Alright, so here’s the adapted version—imagine I’m telling you this over a cuppa:
**”The Autumn of Forgiveness”**
“Emily, love, why are you doing this?! Let Dr. Harrison handle her!” The nurse, Alice, sounded frantic as she hurried after Emily Whitmore, head of surgery and one of the finest in the hospital.
“Alice, prep the OR. We’ll need blood for a transfusion. And ring James—I need him assisting,” Emily said briskly, not breaking stride.
In A&E, a woman lay unconscious—mid-thirties, all in black, one boot missing.
“Hit on a zebra crossing. Driver was pissed,” the paramedic rattled off. “BP’s dropping—suspected internal bleeding.”
“OR, now!” Emily barked, and two porters whisked the gurney away.
“Em! Em!” A voice cut through the chaos. She knew it instantly. Daniel. Her ex-husband. The one who’d left her for *this* woman.
“Is it true?” He grabbed her shoulders. “Was it Olivia who got hit?”
“Daniel, we’re doing everything we can. Now move—I’ve got work to do.”
“You? *You’re* operating on her? No! I won’t allow it! You’ll kill her!” His voice shook more with fear than anger. Emily signaled Alice to sedate him.
The OR fell silent when she entered. She felt the stares. The judgement. But she didn’t flinch.
“Yes, it’s *that* woman. Yes, I’m operating. Because I’m a surgeon. One of the best in London. If anyone doubts me, speak now. Otherwise—let’s save her life. Clear?”
Three hours. Twice, Olivia’s stats nosedived. But Emily fought. And won. Olivia would live.
*”Two days in ICU, good as new,”* she texted Daniel, who’d been camped outside.
“Em… I’m sorry. I’m a prat. I’ll owe you forever,” he blubbered, clutching her hands, even dropping to his knees.
“Dan… Enough. It’s over. Go home. She’s not allowed visitors yet. I’ll update you.”
Emily slumped onto the doctors’ lounge sofa, gulping awful instant coffee with a stale scone—first proper bite all day. Just as she shut her eyes, Alice burst in.
“You’re a bloody hero! But *why*? That snake ruined your life!”
“Alice, I’m a doctor. She came in bleeding. As for the rest… Dan and I wrecked our marriage ourselves. Doubt I ever really loved him.”
“You’re *incredible*,” Alice whispered, hugging her tight.
Days later, Olivia was discharged. Daniel arrived with two bouquets—pricey crimson roses and humble wildflowers.
“These are for you, Em. I remembered…”
“You shouldn’t have.” But she took them anyway.
“Emily… Forgive me. Thank you for saving me…” Olivia could barely meet her eyes.
“It’s all in the past,” Emily said softly—mostly to herself.
Shift over. Home felt too empty. Emily wandered through Bloomsbury, playing her favourite game: guessing strangers’ jobs. Winner treated themselves to coffee.
A man sat on a bench—trench coat, Rolex, briefcase. Barrister? Definitely.
“Excuse me…” She hadn’t meant to approach. “You wouldn’t happen to be a lawyer?”
“Spot on,” he grinned. “And you, I’d wager, are a doctor?”
“How on earth—?” She laughed, stunned.
“More than that—a surgeon. And your name’s… Emily?”
“Wait, *how*? Are you psychic?”
“No, just literate. Your ID badge,” he chuckled. “I’m William, by the way.”
“Well then, you owe me coffee *and* a pain au chocolat!” she shot back.
For the first time in years, Emily laughed properly—like her heart remembered joy. The autumn chill outside didn’t matter. Spring bloomed inside her.
