**Diary Entry**
The girl stood on the other side of the railing. There was no doubt in her intention to jump from the bridge…
At the very start of my night shift, the paramedics brought in a young man. His car had collided with an SUV at the crossroads. After hours of surgery, he was wheeled into intensive care, while the surgeon, Eleanor Whitmore, sat in the staff room, jotting down the operation’s details in the file.
“Here’s your coffee, Eleanor,” said Mary Dawson, the seasoned nurse, placing a mug on the edge of the desk.
“Thank you. Let me know when he wakes up,” Eleanor replied without looking up from her notes.
“Get some rest while you can. It’s quiet for now.”
“You know as well as I do—a shift that starts like this never ends well,” Eleanor countered.
And she was right. Before she could finish her coffee, another patient was wheeled in. By morning, Eleanor was dead on her feet and dozed off right at the desk, her head resting on the paperwork. Mary shook her awake moments later—the man from the car crash had regained consciousness.
Eleanor could’ve said her shift was over, that another doctor would take over, that everything would be fine. But she got up and walked to the ICU. It wasn’t in her nature to leave without checking on a patient she’d operated on.
Under the fluorescent lights, the linoleum floor gleamed like still water. Eleanor stepped quietly into the ward. Yesterday, she’d barely glanced at him—now she saw a strikingly handsome man tangled in wires and monitors. She scanned the readings, then met his gaze.
Even lying in a hospital bed, he oozed arrogance, looking down at her as if she owed him something. She wished she had just an ounce of his confidence. Fighting the urge to glance away, she steadied herself.
“How are you feeling, Alexander? We had to remove your spleen. You lost a lot of blood. Two ribs are fractured, but your lung wasn’t punctured. You’re out of danger—got off lightly, really. The police called. They’d like to speak with you, but I asked them to come later.”
“Thanks,” he muttered hoarsely.
“My shift’s over. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she left.
The same ambulance that brought in another patient gave her a lift home. Her ginger tomcat, Whiskers, rubbed against her legs before trotting off to the kitchen. She was exhausted but knew better than to ignore his meows—sleep would be impossible otherwise. Eleanor barely touched the pillow before she was out.
The next day, Alexander looked better, even smiling when she entered.
“Hello. Glad to see you’re improving. Today, you’ll be moved to a regular ward—you’ll get your phone back, can call family.”
“No one’s here in this city for me. Did I cause you much trouble yesterday?” He still looked down at her. How did he manage that even lying down?
“When will you discharge me?”
“You’ve just had surgery, broken ribs… A week at least, then we’ll reassess. Excuse me, other patients are waiting.” She turned to leave.
Before heading home, she checked on him once more—monitors, IV drip. When she glanced up, his gaze was piercing. He smirked.
A shiver ran down her spine. She’d seen that smirk before. Her memory for faces was sharp, yet she couldn’t place him—only that smirk felt familiar.
All evening, she racked her brain. Nothing. The next morning, he was sitting up, dressed in a fresh T-shirt.
“The nurse brought this. My clothes were ruined,” he explained, catching her surprise. “I feel like… Eleanor Whitmore, 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 once. Years ago, another city, another life.” He winced—ribs protesting.
“You can walk, but carefully,” she said.
“Will you come back to see me?”
“If my shift allows.”
*What nonsense. Why does he act like I owe him something?*
The next day: “So, Doctor, remember where we’ve met?”
“I must’ve been mistaken.”
“Funny. I think we have. Your eyes—I’d never forget them.”
“What’s wrong with my eyes?” She didn’t want to ask, but curiosity gnawed.
“At first, I thought you were just tired. But even rested, your gaze stays the same—wary, like you’re waiting for something, ready to bolt.”
“Rubbish. I’m not running anywhere. You’re recovering well. I’ll discharge you in three days.”
“Thank you for that—” She left mid-sentence.
Three days later, the nurse handed him discharge papers.
“Where’s Eleanor?”
“She’s in surgery.”
Alexander waited in the hall, watching the staff room door. When she emerged, he stood.
“You couldn’t wait to leave, yet here you are.”
“Are you avoiding me?” No shame. “I couldn’t go without thanking you. You saved my life.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“But true. Let me repay you. Your shift ends soon—dinner. Maybe an hour together will jog your memory. Just a meal, no strings.”
“You’re insufferable. Fine. I’ll need time to change.”
“Seven o’clock. The Old Winchester. Near your place.”
“You know where I live?”
“Is it a secret?”
“You’re terrifying. Easier to agree than argue.”
After work, she showered, styled her hair, applied subtle makeup. Dresses—black was her go-to, slimming, safe. But not tonight. She held up pink, then blue. No. The emerald-green one, then. Perfect.
At seven sharp, she entered the restaurant. Live music played. Alexander rose from a corner table—clean-shaven, in a tailored suit. Unrecognizable.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” he admitted, admiring her. No arrogance now.
They ordered: Caesar salad, coffee for her; the same, plus steak for him.
“Hospital food must’ve been torture,” she remarked.
“Confession—I studied the menu while waiting.” A boyish grin.
Conversation flowed until he asked, “Where’s your name from? Father a fan of *The Wizard of Oz*?”
“Guilty.”
“My full name just irritates people. Too many syllables.”
She laughed.
“Finally, you smile.”
A pause as dishes arrived.
“That dress suits you. You wear dark colors to feel thinner?”
She shot him a look but stayed silent.
“Years ago, as a student, I was walking back to halls one rainy evening. June, but miserably cold. I hurried across the bridge—then saw her. A girl, on the wrong side of the railing. No doubt what she meant to do. I stopped. Told her the water was too cold, her bully wasn’t there to see it—what was the point? That no problem at her age was unsolvable.”
Eleanor stared at her plate, pushing lettuce around.
“She listened. Couldn’t tell if she was crying or just wet. Oddly, it worked. I helped her back over. Almost slipped twice. Bought her coffee in a café—only had enough for one.”
Eleanor set her fork down. “You forgot to mention she was fat. Mocked endlessly. ‘Even a tornado wouldn’t lift the house with Fatty Ellie inside.’” Tears glistened. “I screamed at my mother—why did you make me like this?”
“After Year 9, our class went camping. Most had paired off. I was alone. Then one boy asked me to walk by the river. I was so happy—until he ‘accidentally’ pushed me. I reached for his hand, but he stepped back. I slid toward the water. Thought he’d pull me up—so I didn’t scream. Then I saw the horror in his eyes… but the others laughed, so he joined in. Someone stomped on my fingers. I let go.”
She swallowed hard. “Deep water. I couldn’t swim. They fished me out later—covered in mud, vomiting. No one was punished. Just an ‘accident.’”
“So you chose the bridge over facing them again,” he said softly.
“After you walked me away, I swore I’d lose weight, become a doctor. Starved myself through med school—passed out in lectures. One professor said pregnancy would undo it all. So I shut out love. Men would leave when I got fat, like my dad did.”
She wiped her eyes. “I never told anyone. Then one of those girls walked into my clinic. Mask hid me. I wanted to hurt her like she’d hurt me.”
“I’ve often wondered what became of that girl. When I saw your eyes after surgery, I remembered. But I didn’t recognize you. You’ve changed so much. I saved you then—you saved me now. That crash wasn’t random.”
“I should go. Double shift tomorrow.” TheA year later, beneath the same bridge where their stories first collided, Alexander held out a ring, and Eleanor—no longer the girl who believed love would abandon her—whispered “yes” through joyful tears, realizing some rescues are meant to last a lifetime.
