When Forever Changed Sides

Jinxed

Wren POV

It's Thursday, my favorite day of the week.

My schedule has been packed from the moment I stepped into the hospital, and I had just finished a major procedure—a patient with a brain tumour.

The piece of skull had been replaced and secured, and the scalp incision was closed.

I turned to the medical team.

“Alright.”

I looked around the operating room.

“We're done.”

I paused.

“Everything's accounted for?”

“All instruments and swabs accounted for,” Mira, the scrub nurse, replied with a smile.

I returned the smile.

“Good. Let's close up.”

Once the closure was complete, I turned toward the anaesthetist.

“How is he?”

“Stable.”

“He's starting to come around.”

“Airway?”

“Clear.”

“Blood loss?”

“About two hundred millilitres.”

I nodded.

“Okay.”

“Take him to recovery.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

I pulled away from the operating table, pulling off my gloves and dropping them into the clinical waste bin.

I peeled off my gown, handing it over to the theatre staff before walking to the scrub sink.

I turned on the tap.

Water ran over my hands.

I washed them thoroughly, working the soap between my fingers and around my wrists before rinsing it away.

I'd gotten used to the routine.

I've been a surgeon for six years.

The first two were spent as an assistant surgeon.

I've spent the last four as a senior surgeon.

In those six years, I've handled more brain tumour cases than I can count.

I've handled a series of brain tumour cases that earned me lots of Rubik's Cubes.

I always bought them to give to my patients when taking the tumour out of their brains.

Through the way they solved them, I knew how far I was going.

I came out of the operating theatre.

All roads led to the ICU.

I made it a point to see my patient before heading back to my office.

It gave me peace.

Coupled with the fact that I'd never lost a patient before, seeing them after surgery had become something I valued.

I entered the ICU.

A female doctor greeted me.

“Hi, Mr. Hawthorne.”

That sounded irritating.

Not her voice.

The fact that she was flirting in an ICU.

So unprofessional.

“Hey.”

I said it while walking towards my patient.

I didn't mean to sound that way, but I didn't entertain lustful people.

Exception for my baby girl.

Blue.

Shit.

I needed to give her a call when this was over.

She sounded scared this morning.

I couldn't lay my eyes on the patient.

I'd been walking for a while.

Where in God's name was he placed?

I eventually saw him.

A seven-year-old with pilocytic astrocytoma.

We'd managed to remove the tumour.

So the tumour was gone, probably.

But he would still need follow-ups.

“Hey, buddy.”

I said it to him.

His Rubik's Cube was sitting on his sheets, and his eyes were closed.

I went closer.

“Can you hear me?”

He opened his eyes gradually.

“Good. Can you squeeze my hands?”

He squeezed my hand weakly.

“Could you do it with both hands?”

Another squeeze.

I smiled.

“Good boy.”

I picked up his Rubik's Cube.

“Too bad you didn't solve this.”

He looked at the Rubik's Cube, then back at me.

“I'll be taking this.”

He reached out and dragged it toward himself.

“No.”

I smiled.

“Never knew surgery boosted people's energy.”

“Can I keep the Rubik's Cube?”

He asked weakly.

“Sure.”

I nodded.

“But you make me a promise.”

“Which is?”

He gave me a puppy look, just the way my sister kept hers.

True.

I thought.

I missed her.

She went back to school in September.

She attended boarding school.

December wasn't far any longer.

We were already in October.

I consoled myself.

“You will recover speedily.”

I held out my hand.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Good boy.”

I left the ICU.

“Doctor Hawthorne.”

I turned.

“His family wants to see you,” Nurse Camila said.

“I recall Miss Michelle going to speak with them.”

“Miss Michelle?” Camila asked.

“The surgeon in practice.”

“Ohh. They want to speak directly to the senior surgeon.”

“If so, I'm headed to my office.”

I gestured toward the hallway.

“Bring them along.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

I took the lift to my office.

A few minutes later, a knock came.

“Come in.”

Camila walked in.

She stuck her head through the doorway.

“Doctor, I'm here with the parent of the patient.”

“Come in.”

I relaxed into my seat, still sitting up straight.

A young lady walked in. Beside her was a teenage boy.

“Hi, Surgeon.”

“Please have a seat.”

“Surgeon, I will be outside,” Camila said.

“Sure.”

She stepped back out.

“Doctor… how is my son?”

His mother finally asked.

“He's stable. The surgery went well.”

“The tumour?”

“We have removed it completely.”

She let out a breath.

“Completely?”

She asked, her voice filled with emotion.

“Yes. We were able to remove the entire tumour.”

“So…”

She bit her lips.

“Can we see him?”

“He's still under the effects of the anaesthetic, so he won't be fully awake yet. We'll be monitoring him very closely while he comes around.”

“Will he be alright?”

“He's made it through the surgery, and everything went as we'd hoped. That's a very good place to be right now.”

She stood up, extending her hand.

“Thank you for saving my son.”

I extended my hand for the handshake.

“It's my job.”

She left with the teenage boy.

Now, that's the only disadvantage.

I checked the time.

I was in luck.

I was just about to call Blue when an email popped up.

I opened it.

The hospital wanted me to represent them in LA at a medical conference.

It was going to be one week long.

I checked today's date again.

That meant I didn't get a leave until then.

Blue wouldn't like this.

I called Blue.

She was worried.

I helped ease her stress.

I told her about the conference. She was pissed, but what could we do?

We talked about having kids, everything we usually talked about.

The conversation was always the same.

Three kids.

Get a house.

And it went further.

But I didn't seem to get tired of her.

We ended the call.

So we thought.

Until I heard—

I heard a voice.

I looked back at my phone.

The call was still on.

I listened attentively.

That lady had just given my Blue a query.

Made her scared.

Made her apologize.

Anger spiked through me.

When I could no longer hear the other lady's voice, I called out.

“Blue?”

“I'm here.”

She replied, but her voice was sad.

I could feel her fear.

“What just happened?”

I tried my best to be calm.

“I got a query.”

“What?”

“I got a query.”

“Why?”

“Because I was talking to you.”

“You're apologizing for me?”

I meant for it to sound calm, but it came out filled with anger.

“What?”

“You're apologizing because you were talking to me?”

“Wren, please.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“You didn't commit a crime.”

I couldn't pretend to be calm any longer.

“I used work time.”

“You were on your lunch break.”

I countered.

“Not entirely.”

“Blue.”

“It's fine.”

“No, it isn't.”

“I have to go.”

She must have sensed this was not going to end with any of us winning.

“Wait.”

“I need to deal with this.”

“I'll call you later.”

“Okay.”

“Blue?”

“Yes?”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I'll try.”

“Good.”

“Bye.”

“Bye, beautiful.”

Great.

My mood was officially ruined.

I opened the staff app and notified the theatre team that I wasn't fit to operate.

I just sat back in my chair, staring ahead as the irritation slowly settled over me.

I had spent the morning operating on a child, speaking with his family, and receiving an invitation to represent the hospital at a medical conference in LA.

And somehow, one phone call had managed to ruin my mood completely.

I waited for my consultation hours to finish so I could go home.

Then came a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

A nurse came in.

“Mr. Hawthorne, the manager would like to see you.”

“I'll be there shortly.”

She left, shutting the door behind her.

I leaned back in my chair.

“The manager has never called me before.”

I stared at the closed door.

“Coincidence?”

I rubbed my forehead.

“Blue gets a query, and suddenly the manager wants to see me.”

I sighed.

“Have we been jinxed?”