Chapter 1
841 Words
Chapter 1
Dr. Olivia Greene pushed open the doors to St. Matthew’s Hospital, the familiar scent of antiseptic and coffee greeting her like an old friend. It was just past sunrise, the golden light filtering through the glass windows of the lobby, but Olivia had been awake for hours, reviewing patient charts and mentally preparing for another grueling shift in the trauma unit.
She thrived in the chaos, in the relentless pace of emergency medicine. There was something about fixing what was broken, about being the steady hands that pulled patients back from the brink, that made her feel whole. But today, a different kind of case weighed on her mind—one that wasn’t just another routine surgery or a nameless patient she’d patch up and send on their way.
Ethan Hunter.
His name had been scribbled across her charts for days now. A survivor of a severe car accident, Ethan had been airlifted in with multiple fractures, internal bleeding, and a head injury that had left him unconscious for nearly a week. She had operated on him twice—once to stabilize his shattered femur and another to repair the damage to his spleen. Now, he was awake. And today would be the first time she met him while he was fully aware.
Pushing through the hallway that led to the ICU, Olivia prepared herself. She had dealt with difficult recoveries before—patients who woke up confused, angry, in pain. She didn’t know what to expect from Ethan, but she knew she had done everything she could to save him.
She stopped outside his door, inhaled deeply, and knocked.
“Come in.”
His voice was hoarse, roughened from disuse. When Olivia stepped inside, her eyes immediately locked onto the man sitting upright in bed. Ethan Hunter was younger than she had expected—early thirties, perhaps—but it wasn’t just his youth that caught her off guard. His piercing blue eyes, shadowed with exhaustion but still striking, met hers with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. A day’s worth of scruff dusted his jaw, and his dark hair was slightly disheveled, as though he had run his fingers through it too many times.
“Mr. Hunter,” Olivia greeted, her professional mask in place. “I’m Dr. Greene. How are you feeling?”
He exhaled a slow breath, his gaze flickering to the IV in his arm before settling back on her. “Like I got hit by a truck.”
Her lips twitched. “That would be an accurate assessment.”
A ghost of a smirk crossed his face, but it was gone just as quickly. “You’re the one who put me back together?”
“I am.” She stepped closer, reaching for his chart. “You suffered multiple injuries, including a fractured femur and a ruptured spleen. We performed two surgeries, and you’re responding well to treatment.”
Ethan studied her in silence for a moment before nodding. “Guess I owe you a thank you, then.”
“No need,” Olivia said smoothly. “It’s my job.”
But his gaze lingered on her, assessing. “Still. Thank you.”
Something in the way he said it made her chest tighten. She ignored it, focusing on the chart instead. “You’re looking at a long recovery, Mr. Hunter. Physical therapy will be key, and there may be some lingering pain, but with time and effort, you should regain full mobility.”
He leaned his head back against the pillows, sighing. “Great.”
His tone was flat, detached. Olivia had seen it before—the quiet resignation of someone who wasn’t just dealing with physical wounds, but something deeper. Something raw.
“You were lucky,” she said carefully. “It could have been much worse.”
Ethan let out a humorless chuckle. “Lucky. Yeah.”
She didn’t push, but she recognized the weight behind his words. Trauma left more than just scars on the body—it left them on the soul.
After a moment, she placed his chart back and met his gaze again. “Do you have any questions about your treatment?”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. Just… when can I get out of here?”
Olivia lifted a brow. “Eager to leave already?”
“Not a fan of hospitals.”
A wry smile touched her lips. “Most people aren’t.”
She didn’t press further. She had learned long ago that some patients weren’t ready to talk. But something about Ethan made her curious—made her wonder what lay beneath the surface of his guarded expression.
“Well, Mr. Hunter,” she said, stepping back. “I’ll check in on you later. In the meantime, try to get some rest.”
He gave her a small nod, but as she turned to leave, she felt his gaze lingering on her. And for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she found herself thinking about him long after she walked away.
- Writer
