What Once Was

Chapter One

“The doctor will be with you soon.” I say as I make my way out of the room. Patients forget me the second I leave. It’s as if I disappear along with their memories. Everyday, it’s the same beeping machines, same hallways, same smell of alcohol lingering on my hands. I smile at every patient I walk past. I can’t even remember if they’re my patients.

I reach my desk and check the clock. 8:34 pm. I finish my charting, endorse my patients to the next shift, double-check IV lines so no one yells about them later. A quick walk through the ward, a quick glance at the monitors. It’s all automatic now, muscle memory more than anything. By the time I sign my name on the log sheet, I’m already halfway out the door in my head. Just another shift done. Nothing new.

I get home to my one-bedroom apartment and sink into the couch. Dinner hasn’t even crossed my mind — actually, neither has lunch. The last time I ate was this morning, before work. My stomach complains, but not enough to move me.

I drag myself to the fridge and find leftover lasagna from Kaycee’s birthday… two weeks ago. It’s definitely more biohazard than food at this point. I make a mental note to throw it out later, when I have the energy. For now, I settle with cereal. A proper meal can wait until tomorrow.

After eating, I take a quick shower, then collapse into bed. The lasagna is still in the fridge. I didn’t have the strength to care. My eyes shut, and that’s it. I don’t dream — I haven’t in years. I just black out, night after night, like clockwork.

Tomorrow’s my day off. Not that it matters. The cycle’s been the same for two and a half years now, and I’m so over it.

My days off usually fall into one of two categories: bedrotting until my body fuses with the mattress, or pretending to be productive by cleaning the apartment and doing laundry. Today, I was aiming for the former — it was already noon and I still hadn’t left my bed — when my phone buzzed.

Kaycee: “You haven’t forgotten about the reunion tonight, right?”

I groaned into my pillow. That was today? Of course I’d forgotten. I typed back “Of course” because sarcasm is easier than admitting I can’t keep track of my own life. Kaycee had mentioned it on her birthday dinner a couple weeks ago, just the two of us. I’d been half-listening, half-stressing over a patient I was worried about. My fault. Completely.

I dragged myself up and went to find food. Bread. That was it. Right — I was supposed to get groceries today. I mentally pushed that chore to “tomorrow-Kate” and chewed my sad bread breakfast. Then, just to feel like I hadn’t completely wasted my day, I picked up a little around the apartment.

By three, I knew I had to start getting ready. High school reunions aren’t exactly red-carpet events, but showing up looking like I’d just crawled out of a shift wasn’t an option. Especially since there was a chance my ex, Salem, would be there.

So I took my time: light makeup, eyeliner to make my eyes look sharper than they felt, hair curled because people always said it suited me, and my nicest dress — a short black bodycon with long chiffon sleeves. Kitten heels to match.

By the time I checked my phone again, it was 6:15. Perfect. Twenty minutes to the venue. I’d be early, which I preferred. I hated being late. Being late felt like announcing yourself, and I never wanted to give anyone an excuse to stare at me.

Luna’s Chicken and Beer is already buzzing when I arrive. A handful of people are scattered around the long table, drinks in hand, laughter a little too loud for a Monday night. Kaycee spots me instantly and waves me over to the empty seat beside her.

Most of them look familiar, though their names blur together in my head. Seven years is a long time — give me a break. Besides, I never had that many friends in high school anyway. It was always just me and Kaycee. Two introverts bonded by sketchbooks and Spotify playlists. Just us… until Salem showed up.

Speaking of Salem.

“Hey, do you know if Salem’s coming tonight?” I ask Kaycee quietly.

Before she can answer, Gracie — across the table, perfectly poised and apparently still nosy — cuts in. “Oh, haven’t you heard? He moved to Korea. He says it’s for his dad, but honestly, I think it’s because of his girlfriend.”

Oh. I nod, pretending that the news doesn’t loosen something in my chest. Relief tastes strange, like I wasn’t prepared for it.

More people stream in, calling out names, hugging, all that reunion energy that feels both warm and exhausting.

“Hey man! God, it’s been forever!”

“Oh my god, Gracie, you look amazing tonight!”
“Heyyy, look who it isss!”

I glance up, and my stomach drops. Zachary. Zack.

“I’m not late, am I?” he says, voice deeper but still somehow the same.

“No, doc, right on time. We just ordered,” Theodore answers — at least, I think that’s his name.Zack takes the empty seat across from me, right beside Gracie. He looks… older, rugged even. There’s a faint stubble along his jaw, and his dimple threatens to show when he smiles shyly.

“I’m not a doctor yet, Ted,” he mutters. Then his gaze shifts, and for a brief, unbearable second, our eyes meet.

Was I staring? God, was I actually staring? The heat rushes to my face as I drop my eyes to the menu I’m not even reading. Whether I was or not doesn’t matter — because it feels like I’ve just been caught.