**Autumn of Forgiveness**
“Natasha Williams, why are you doing this?! Let Dr. Evans handle it!” The nurse, Emily, sounded frantic as she hurried after the head of the surgical department—one of the best in the hospital.
“Emily, prep the operating theatre. We’ll need blood for a transfusion. And call Jack—I need him assisting,” Natasha said, not slowing her pace.
In the ER, a woman in her thirties lay unconscious, dressed in black, one boot missing.
“Hit on a zebra crossing. The driver was three sheets to the wind,” the paramedic reported briskly. “BP’s dropping—suspected internal bleeding.”
“Take her up. Now!” Natasha ordered, and the porters rushed the gurney away.
“Nat! Nat!” The voice behind her was unmistakable. Simon. Her ex-husband. The one who’d left her for this woman.
“Is it true?” He grabbed her shoulders. “Was it Jessica who got hit?”
“Simon, we’re doing everything we can. Now—excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
“You?! You’re operating on her? No! I won’t allow it! You’ll kill her!” His voice held more terror than anger. Natasha gestured to Emily, who promptly jabbed him with a sedative.
When Natasha walked into the OR, the chatter died instantly. She felt the stares. The judgment. But she didn’t flinch.
“Yes, it’s *that* woman. Yes, I’m operating on her. Because I’m a surgeon. One of the best in London. If anyone thinks they can do better—speak now. Otherwise, we work. We save her life. Clear?”
The surgery took three hours. Twice, Jessica’s stats teetered near disaster. But Natasha fought—and won. Jessica would live.
“Two days in ICU, good as new,” she texted Simon, who was camped outside.
“Nat… I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I’ll be in your debt forever!” He clutched her hands, weeping, sinking to his knees.
“Simon… Enough. It’s in the past. Go home. You can’t see her yet. I’ll call if anything changes.”
Natasha brewed herself a dismal cup of NHS coffee, flopped onto the staff-room sofa with a stale pastry, and only then realized she was starving. Just as she shut her eyes, Emily burst in.
“You’re a bloody legend! I’m in awe! But why? Why save *her*? She ruined your life!”
“Emily, I’m a doctor. The patient had internal bleeding. As for the rest… Simon and I wrecked things ourselves. Maybe I never really loved him anyway.”
“You’re a saint,” Emily whispered, hugging her fiercely.
Days later, Jessica was discharged. Simon arrived with two bouquets—opulent red roses and humble daisies.
“These are for you, Nat. I haven’t forgotten—”
“You shouldn’t have.” But she took them anyway.
“Natasha… Forgive me. Thank you… for saving me.” Jessica could barely meet her eyes.
“It’s in the past,” Natasha said softly. Mostly to herself.
Her shift ended. Home felt too empty. Instead, she wandered through Camden, playing her favourite game—guessing people’s jobs. Winner buys coffee.
A man sat on a bench—sharp coat, expensive watch, briefcase. Lawyer? Definitely.
“Excuse me…” She hadn’t realized she’d approached him. “You wouldn’t happen to be a solicitor?”
“Spot on,” he grinned. “And you, I’d wager, are a doctor?”
“How on earth—?” She laughed, startled.
“More precisely—a surgeon. And your name is… Natasha?”
“Hold on, how—? Are you psychic?”
“No, just literate. Your ID badge,” he chuckled. “I’m Edward, by the way.”
“Well then, you owe me coffee *and* a croissant!” she shot back.
For the first time in years, Natasha laughed properly—as if her heart remembered joy. The autumn outside didn’t matter. Spring had bloomed inside her.
