If I Were Her

Chapter 14

The door slammed open before he could react.

“Ethan!”

The single word hit him like a hammer, and he flinched instinctively, pressing himself against the wall. He had heard his name called multiple times already, but he had hoped—foolishly—that his dad would leave him alone this morning.

He knew better.

His father stepped in, body taut, eyes flashing with a barely contained storm. The air in the room seemed to shrink, heavy and suffocating. A metal golf club rested in his hand, the weight of it ominous.

Before Ethan could speak, his father’s voice rumbled, low and furious:

“Do you know what I do for you? Day and night, I work my fingers to the bone, every single day, to make sure you turn out a big shot! And all you bring back for me… all you do… is this?” He gestured sharply at Ethan with the club. “Excuses! Weakness! Is this what I’m training you for? A failure?”

Ethan’s heart thudded painfully, confusion twisting into dread. He opened his mouth to speak, to explain, but his father cut him off.

“Do you know the disgust I felt when your course adviser called me yesterday? To ask why your CGPA—your grades, my hard work, all my sacrifices—dropped from a 4.8 to a 4.5? Do you even realize how close you are to leaving a first class? And yet here you are, acting like it doesn’t matter!”

The words hit Ethan like a freight train. He hadn’t even realized that was the reason for his father’s anger. The calls, the shouting, the glare—it had all been connected to his grades, to his course adviser bypassing him entirely and calling his father first. Why didn’t she talk to me first? he thought, bitter and frustrated, as adrenaline and fear coiled in his stomach.

Before he could respond, the golf club swung hard, striking his cheek. Pain exploded, white-hot and searing, and he staggered back, hands flying to his face. Blood pricked between his fingers, warm and metallic.

“Do you understand what failure looks like?!” His father roared, eyes dark with fury. “Do you even care about the life I’m trying to give you?”

Another swing connected, this time along his jaw. Copper filled his mouth, his vision blurred slightly, and he pressed himself against the wall, every nerve screaming to flee.

A sudden, desperate shout cut through the chaos:

“Stop! Leave him alone!”

His mother staggered into the room, hands raised, face pale but determined. She tried to push his father away, but he shoved her roughly aside, her body hitting the doorframe with a thud. She staggered back, clutching at the wall to stay upright.

Ethan pressed his hands to his bleeding face, chest heaving. The pain was sharp, blinding—but the swirl of anger, fear, shame, and disbelief inside him was worse. His father’s shadow loomed over him, a storm that could break at any second.

And for the first time, Ethan fully understood. This wasn’t just about the fight. It wasn’t just about him. It was the pressure, the sacrifice, the expectation he hadn’t lived up to—the thing his father thought he’d earned and that he had almost thrown away.

The room felt smaller, heavier, his dad stormed away and he rushed to help his mother, ignoring the blinding pain he was passing through.

————————

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Iris stepped into the Accident & Emergency department, notebook tucked under her arm, gloves in hand. She had no classes today and felt this was the best day to start at the hospital.

The smell hit her immediately: antiseptic, sweat, and something faintly metallic lingering in the air. She swallowed hard. This was her first real shift, and her heart thumped like a drum.

“Morning, Iris!” Marissa’s voice called from across the corridor. She looked as composed as ever, though her cheeks were slightly flushed. “Ready for your first taste of chaos?”

Iris gave a small laugh, following her friend. “I think so… mostly. Just… let’s survive the day first.”

They were second-year volunteers, so they weren’t doing anything life-threatening—mostly hanging drips, checking vitals, giving routine medications, and emptying catheters. Still, the sheer energy of A&E made it feel like the frontlines. Patients streamed in, paramedics calling out injuries, monitors beeping, trolleys clattering. It was a whirlwind.

“I’ll take that bay,” Marissa said, already moving toward a patient. “You can help with vitals here.”

Iris nodded, kneeling beside the bed of a middle-aged man recovering from a minor accident. She checked his blood pressure, murmured reassurances, and noted the readings carefully. Routine work, yes—but adrenaline prickled in the back of her neck. Every patient had a story, and for the first time, she felt like she was glimpsing real medicine, real urgency.

A nurse passed by, handing them a tray of medications. “Iris, Marissa—help me hang these drips, please. Fast, but careful.”

Iris glanced at Marissa. “Let’s do it,” she whispered. They moved together, threading tubes, adjusting clamps, making sure everything was sterile. The patient squirmed slightly, but Marissa’s calm voice guided them through, and soon the drips were steady.

Hours passed in a blur. Some moments were mundane—emptying catheters, wiping sweat from anxious patients’ brows, noting vitals—but others were unexpectedly thrilling, a teenager came in with a deep cut on his arm, a paramedic wheeled in a patient who had fainted at home, a young woman came in in labor. They weren’t allowed to intervene beyond observation, but the tension, the movement, the life-or-death energy made everything feel electric.

Iris stepped aside to chart vitals for a patient and noticed the entrance of a young man wincing slightly, rubbing the side of his face. Swelling and bruising marked his cheek, and she paused mid-note.

Something about him felt… familiar.

Before she could think further, a nurse beckoned her to assist with a drip. She shook her head slightly, trying to push her curiosity aside. She would come back to him later.

———————-

Ethan had tried. He really had. He had dragged himself to school, sitting through lectures, forcing a calm expression, gritting his teeth whenever someone glanced at his face. The swelling along his cheek throbbed with every subtle movement, and the concerned looks from classmates, wide-eyed and silent, only made him feel more exposed. He ignored them all, keeping his head down, pretending the pain wasn’t there.

By the middle of third period, Botany, it had become impossible. The cherry-eyed lecturer had noticed immediately.

“Ethan,” she said gently but firmly, “you need to get that wound checked out. Go to A&E at the teaching hospital—you can head home after that.”

He had nodded mutely, his pulse uneven, forcing a tight smile he didn’t feel, and left the classroom, walking carefully so as not to aggravate the throbbing along his jaw.

Now he sat on the edge of a chair in A&E, one hand pressed lightly against his cheek, wincing every time he moved. The nurse worked efficiently, cleaning the wound, preparing a dressing, all while Ethan tried not to flinch too much.

It was then he noticed her. Chestnut hair, calm movements, professional yet effortless. She wasn’t Ava—Ava was an art student; she wouldn’t look this natural in scrubs. Recognition hit him instantly.

He froze for a moment, taking in the sight, before a blonde girl gestured urgently toward Iris, clearly trying to get her attention. Before he could process further, the blonde girl had practically dragged Iris toward him, whispering to the nurse he couldn’t hear everything clearly but he heard her saying Iris had a question about wound dressing.

Iris looked flustered for a fraction of a second but recovered quickly, asking a question about swelling and dressing care. The nurse answered patiently, demonstrating the steps, and then turned to him

“You’ll need to come in at least twice this week to have this dressing checked and to see how the bruise healing, don’t touch it too much.”

Ethan leaned back slightly, pressing a hand against the good side of his face nodding, bracing against the dull throb.

———————-

Iris had been thinking of a hundred ways to bite Marissa’s head off before the nurse even spoke. How dare she drag her here like she had some right to? This was her first shift, and all she wanted was to survive without being shoved into a scene she hadn’t signed up for.

The nurse’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Iris, could you take his vitals? I’ll be back in a moment”

Iris blinked, caught off guard. The nurse stepped away, Marissa practically glued to her side, whispering something to the nurse as they walked down the hall. Iris let out a quiet sigh.

“Alright,” she muttered, mostly to herself.

She approached him, trying to steady her sweaty hands. Ethan sat there, jaw tense, one hand brushing the side of his face. The bruise was already swelling, the purple spreading under the skin.

“Sorry,” she whispered, almost under her breath, as she lifted the blood pressure cuff and slid it over his left arm, securing it tightly around his bicep. She hated that she was apologizing for something she hadn’t even done, but it felt right somehow.

She checked the valve, squeezed the bulb, and then hesitated. Her better judgment screamed at her not to ask—but she couldn’t resist.

“How did you get a bruise like that?” Her hands were steady on the cuff.

He exhaled slowly, eyes flicking away for just a second before meeting hers again. “Tripped on some stairs… this morning,” he said, his voice calm, but the tension in his jaw betrayed the lie.

Iris nodded, letting her fingers linger on the cuff as she checked the readings. Then, softer this time, almost like she were confessing something herself, she said, “Ava… she seemed… upset. I mean, really upset about the breakup.”

He stiffened slightly, pressing a hand lightly to the side of his face. His eyes darkened, just a fraction. “Oh… um, I don’t want to talk about it,” he murmured, voice low, careful.

“That’s okay,” Iris said quietly, meeting his gaze. “Just… thought you should know.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the faint hiss of the cuff deflating and the quiet hum of the hospital lights. His expression softened ever so slightly, just enough for her to notice, but the walls around him remained.

Iris stepped back, sliding the cuff onto the table and scribbling the numbers into her notebook. She let a small sigh escape, almost to herself. “Alright, that’s it for now.”

He nodded once, brushing a hand again lightly over the tender skin of his cheek. “You’re not supposed to touch that often” she said and he chuckled then winced

“Sorry” she said mentally cursing herself, at this point he must think that was the only word she knew.

“It’s fine, I don’t wanna sound like a horrible person but this thing between me and Ava it happens a lot” she looks up from her notes

“What? I mean..”

“I’m tired of always being threatened or publicly embarrassed, maybe we needed to end things”

She nodded and walked away before he decided to say more heartfelt things she’d rather not hear