The girl stood on the other side of the railing. There was no doubt about her intention to jump from the bridge…
At the very start of her night shift, the ambulance brought in a young man. His car had collided with an SUV at a junction. After hours of surgery, the patient was wheeled into intensive care, while the surgeon, Eleanor Spencer, sat in the doctors’ office jotting down the procedure’s details.
“Coffee, Eleanor,” said senior nurse Margaret Whitmore, placing a mug on the edge of the desk.
“Thanks. Call me when he wakes up,” Eleanor replied without looking up from her notes.
“Take a rest while you can. It’s quiet for now.”
“You know as well as I do—starting a shift like this never bodes well,” Eleanor muttered.
And she wasn’t wrong. Before she could finish her coffee, another patient arrived. By dawn, Eleanor was dead on her feet and dozed off right at the desk, her head resting on the paperwork. Margaret woke her with the news that the post-accident patient had regained consciousness.
Eleanor could’ve said her shift was over, that another doctor could check on him, but she got up anyway. It wasn’t in her nature to leave without ensuring her patient was stable.
The linoleum in the corridor gleamed under the fluorescent lights like the surface of a pond. Eleanor slipped quietly into the room. Yesterday, she hadn’t gotten a proper look at him, but now she saw a rather attractive man tangled in wires and monitors. She checked the vitals, and when her eyes flicked back to him, she found him studying her.
Even lying in a hospital bed, the man oozed confidence, his gaze appraising her as if from a higher perch. She could’ve used just a fraction of that self-assurance. It took effort not to look away.
“How are you feeling, Alexander Whitmore? We had to remove your spleen. You lost a lot of blood. Two broken ribs, but your lung’s intact. No danger to your life—you got off easy. The police called—they want to talk to you. I asked them to come later, give you time to recover.”
“Thanks,” he said hoarsely.
“My shift’s over. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Eleanor left the room.
The ambulance dropping off another patient gave her a lift home. In the hallway, a ginger cat wound around her legs before trotting off to the kitchen. She was bone-tired, but first, she had to feed Marmalade—otherwise, he’d keep her awake all night. Eleanor was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
The next day, the patient looked much better—he even smiled when she entered.
“Hello. You’re recovering well. Today, we’ll move you to a ward, return your phone. You can call your family.”
“No one’s waiting for me in this city. Did I cause you much trouble yesterday?” His gaze was still unnervingly direct. How did he manage that?
“When do I get out?” he asked.
“You *just* had surgery. Broken ribs… You’ll be here at least a week. After that, we’ll see. Excuse me, other patients need me.” Eleanor turned to leave.
Before heading home, she checked on him one last time, adjusting the IV and glancing at the monitor. When she finally met his eyes, she caught that same amused smirk. A shiver ran down her spine.
She’d seen that smirk before. She never forgot a face, but this man was new—yet that grin felt hauntingly familiar. All evening, she racked her brain, but nothing came to mind.
The next morning, he was sitting up in bed—someone had brought him a T-shirt.
“Nurse fetched it. My clothes were covered in blood,” he said, catching her surprised look. “Eleanor… I get the feeling you want to ask me something.”
“No—well, yes. Have we met before?”
“I’d remember a woman like you.” His smirk returned. “A gaze like yours… I’ve only seen it once. Years ago. Different city, different life.” He winced—the ribs weren’t fully cooperating.
“You can get up, but carefully,” she said.
“Will you come back?” he asked suddenly.
“If the shift’s quiet.”
*What on earth is this? Why does he act like I owe him something?*
The next day, he grinned. “Remember where we’ve met yet, Doctor?”
“I must’ve been mistaken.”
“Oh, I think we *have*. Your eyes—I know them.”
“What’s wrong with my eyes?” she snapped, curiosity getting the better of her.
“Day one, I thought you were just tired. But the next day, you looked fresh—same wary stare, like you’re bracing for disaster. Like you’re ready to bolt.”
“Rubbish. I’m not running anywhere. You’re healing well—I’ll discharge you in three days.”
“Thank you for—”
She left before he could finish.
Three days later, the nurse handed him discharge papers and X-rays.
“Where’s Eleanor?” He frowned when she didn’t appear.
“She’s in surgery.”
Alexander lingered in the corridor, watching the office door. When she finally emerged, he intercepted her.
“You were desperate to leave, yet here you are.” She arched a brow.
“Are you avoiding me?” No hint of embarrassment. “I couldn’t go without thanking you. You saved my life.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“But true. If you hadn’t operated, I’d be dead. So—dinner. My treat. Maybe an hour together will jog your memory?”
“You’re insufferable. Fine. Seven o’clock. *The Old Winchester*. Don’t be late.”
“You live near there, don’t you?”
“How do you—? Never mind. Easier to agree than argue.”
After her shift, Eleanor showered, styled her hair, and applied light makeup. Then came the wardrobe crisis. Black was her safety net—slimming, confidence-boosting. But she couldn’t wear it forever. She tossed aside a pink dress, then a blue one. Finally, she pulled out a dark emerald gown—it matched her eyes. Perfect.
At seven sharp, she entered the restaurant. Live music played. Alexander waved from a secluded table—clean-shaven, in a sharp suit, he looked different.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” he admitted, admiration flashing in his eyes. For once, he didn’t seem smug.
They barely glanced at the menus before ordering—Caesar salad and coffee for her, the same plus steak for him.
“Guessing your father loved *The Wizard of Oz*?” he teased about her name.
“Spot on.”
“My full name’s a mouthful—annoys people.”
She laughed.
“Finally, a smile.”
The food arrived. Between bites, he said, “That dress suits you. You usually wear dark colours to look slimmer?”
She shot him a glare but stayed silent.
“Years ago, I was walking back to my dorm. Raining, freezing by the river. June, but felt like November. Then I saw a girl—teenager—on the wrong side of the bridge railing. No doubt what she planned. I told her the water was too cold, no audience—what’s the point? No problem’s unsolvable at that age.”
He paused. “She listened. Could’ve been rain or tears on her face. Oddly, it worked. I helped her climb back. Nearly slipped twice. Bought her coffee at a café—only had enough for one cup myself…”
Eleanor stared at her plate, pushing lettuce around.
“I asked what happened, and she—”
“—She told you why she wanted to die,” Eleanor finished, setting down her fork. “You forgot to mention she was fat. The class laughed. *‘Even a tornado wouldn’t lift the house with Fatty Ellie inside…’* They’d chant, *‘Ellie, did you eat an elephant for breakfast?’*”
Her voice wavered. “After ninth grade, we went camping. Everyone paired off—except me. One boy asked me to walk by the river. I was so happy! Then he ‘accidentally’ pushed me. I grabbed for his hand—he stepped back. I slid toward the water.”
She swallowed. “I thought it was a joke. That he’d pull me up. Then I saw the fear in his eyes—but the others arrived, laughing. Someone stepped on my hands. I let go. The water was deep. I couldn’t swim. They fished me out, coughing up mud. No one was punished—just an ‘accident.’”
“So you decided drowning was better than facing them,” Alexander said softly. “Kids are cruel to those who’re different.”
“After the bridge, I vowed to become a doctor, lose weight—no matter what. I barely ate at uni, fainted from hunger. But I did it. One professor warned pregnancy would undo it all—*‘that’s just your body.’*”
She exhaled. “I banned thoughts of love. Men leave when you gain weight—like my dad did.”
“I told you if everyone solved problems by jumping, the planet would be empty. You remembered”And yet,” Alexander said softly, taking her hand across the table, “here we both are—proof that some bridges lead somewhere better after all.”
