9.16
<
The police arrested everyone involved, rescuing dozens of children and reuniting countless families.
Luke Harrison began appearing in my life again after that. Sometimes he would bring me food, other times flowers.
The man who had once been so proud, so unwilling to bow his head in front of me, was now fumbling through clumsy and desperate attempts to win me back.
I didn’t know what he was trying to achieve, nor did I care.
It didn’t matter whether his intentions were genuine or whether I had misunderstood him in the past. The pain he caused me was real, and nothing could erase that.
I thought back to New Year’s Eve, when I cried into my parents‘ arms, swearing over and over that I would never look back.
I wasn’t the woman I had been at twenty anymore. I couldn’t go back to those carefree days, nor to the love I once believed in.
Now, I was edging closer to forty, leaving my thirties behind.
Life doesn’t wait for anyone. Time doesn’t move backward. We all keep marching forward, whether we want to or not.
We have to live with the consequences of our decisions–we can’t just take them back like we did as kids.
Slowly but surely, my life began to find its rhythm again.
I returned to my old job as a doctor.
People around me marveled at my resilience, talking about how strong I must be to have endured so much.
But they didn’t see the nights when I woke up drenched in sweat, haunted by the same nightmares over and over.
A Confrontation with Luke
One night, Luke came to see me again. This time, I couldn’t hold back.
We had a fight–our first real argument, raw and unfiltered.
I let everything out, every ounce of anger and resentment I had buried for years.
Luke stayed silent for a long time, as he always did.
But this time, his silence was different. Deeper. Heavier.
When I finally walked away, I glanced back the next morning and saw nothing but cigarette butts scattered across the ground where he had
stood.
Our lives had become two parallel lines, destined never to intersect again.
At least now, in this space, we would never cross paths.
Finding Solace in the Night
I started to love working night shifts.
There was something about the stillness of the evening that cleared my mind, helped me think more clearly.
Beneath the fluorescent lights of the operating room, I was sharp and focused, my thoughts consumed with saving lives.
But the moment I stepped away from the surgical table, I would collapse into my own endless spiral of doubts and what–ifs.
The families of the patients I saved would hold my hands, thanking me again and again, tears of relief in their eyes.
Their gratitude reminded me that life could bloom anew, even after the harshest winters.
9:16 AM
<
The long nights didn’t exhaust me. If anything, they made me feel alive.
A Dangerous Night
One night, after finishing a late shift, I decided to drive myself home.
As I passed through an intersection, I noticed something strange.
A car seemed to be following me.
It matched my speed, keeping a careful distance.
At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But as the minutes passed, an uneasy feeling crept over me.
I stayed calm, gripping the wheel tightly, and dialed the police.
Just as I was giving them my location, the car behind me sped up, its high beams glaring in my rearview mirror.
The road was dark, the streetlights few and far between.
Suddenly, the car surged forward, heading straight for mine.
In that moment, I saw my daughter’s face in my mind’s eye–a fleeting image, but so vivid it felt real.
For the first time in years, my heart beat fiercely, not in fear, but in defiance.
I wanted to live.
But before the collision came, a deafening explosion erupted behind me.
The impact never reached me.
The world around me went silent, save for the ringing in my ears.
