06

𝓣𝓲𝓶

I spotted Eric the moment I stepped into the emergency ward. He was pacing back and forth near the nurses’ station, his movements restless and uneven. His jacket was half off, his tie loosened and hanging crooked around his neck.

He looked like someone who had been holding his breath for too long.

“Tim,” he said the second he saw me.

Relief washed over his face so fast it almost startled me. He crossed the space between us in long strides and grabbed my arm like he was afraid I might disappear.

“Thank God you’re here,” he said. His grip was tight. Too tight.

“I came as soon as you called,” I replied. “What happened?”

“She fell into the water,” he said quickly. “She slipped. I don’t even know how long she was there. She started coughing, shaking. I thought she was drowning right in front of me.” His voice cracked slightly. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” I said, even though my heart was already racing. “Let’s see her first.”

He nodded and pulled me toward the ward, talking the whole way. About how pale she looked. About how scared he was. About how she hadn’t stopped shaking even in the ambulance. I listened, but part of my mind was already switching into work mode. Facts. Symptoms and evidence.

That was how I stayed calm.

Laura was lying in the hospital bed when we entered. White sheets pulled neatly over her body. Her hair spread across the pillow, dark against the sterile white. Her skin looked pale under the harsh lights, almost translucent.

“Eric,” she whispered when she saw him.

He rushed to her side instantly, taking her hand in both of his. “I’m here,” he said softly. “I’m right here.”

I stayed a step back, watching. She turned her head slightly, her eyes landing on me. Just for a second. And in that second, something flickered there. Not fear. Not a weakness.

Awareness.

Then she closed her eyes again.

I moved toward the foot of the bed and picked up her chart. I scanned it carefully. Vitals were stable. Oxygen saturation was normal. Blood work showed nothing alarming. No signs of infection. No damage to her lungs. Everything pointed to one simple truth.

“She’s fine,” I said after a moment.

Eric turned to me sharply. “What do you mean, fine?”

“I mean medically,” I clarified. “There’s nothing wrong with her. Her lungs are clear. Oxygen levels are good. No internal issues. According to these reports, she could be discharged right now.”

Laura shifted slightly on the bed. Her brow furrowed. “I don’t feel fine,” she said weakly.

Eric frowned deeply. “But look at her, Tim. She looks sick.”

“Looking sick doesn’t always mean being sick,” I said, keeping my voice even. “What matters is what the tests show.”

I could feel Laura’s eyes on me again. This time, she didn’t look away.

“I feel miserable,” she murmured. “My chest feels tight.”

“According to the reports—” I began.

I didn’t get to finish.

Laura suddenly started coughing.

Not a light cough. Not a nervous one. Violent, choking coughs that tore out of her chest and bent her forward. Her fingers clawed at the sheets as she gasped for air. Her face twisted in what looked like real distress.

“I—I can’t breathe,” she rasped. “It hurts.”

Eric panicked immediately.

“Nurse!” he shouted. “Doctor! Someone help her!”

The ward exploded into movement, and the nurse rushed in. A doctor appeared at her side. Someone fitted an oxygen mask over her face.

Laura kept coughing, shaking, clutching at Eric’s hand like it was the only thing keeping her anchored.

My stomach dropped.

I stood there, frozen, my mind racing. This didn’t make sense. None of it did. Her vitals had been normal. There had been no warning signs. And yet….

Eric spun toward me, eyes blazing. “Didn’t you say Laura was fine?”

The accusation in his voice was sharp enough to cut.

“I said the reports—” I started.

But he had already turned away from me, his attention fully on Laura again. He whispered reassurances to her, his voice shaking, his hand stroking her hair. I stood there uselessly, my hands clenched at my sides, my chest burning.

The coughing slowly eased. Her breathing steadied. The nurses stepped back. The doctor checked her once more, frowned slightly, then nodded.

“She’s stable,” the doctor said. “We’ll continue monitoring.”

Eric exhaled shakily.

Laura lay back against the pillows, eyes closed, her breathing slow and shallow now. She looked exhausted. Weak. Helpless.

Eric finally turned back to me. His face was tight now, no panic left in it, just irritation.

“Come with me,” he said.

He didn’t ask. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the ward, down the hall, stopping near a blank stretch of wall where no one was standing close enough to hear.

“I know you don’t like Laura,” he said quietly, but his tone wasn’t calm. It was accusing. “And I know you think she exaggerates things.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“And I know you think she’s dramatic,” he went on. “But that doesn’t mean she’d fake something like this.”

My chest tightened. “Are you saying I lied about her condition?”

“I’m saying you might be biased,” he replied. “You’ve never tried to hide it.”

That hit hard.

“I read her chart,” I said. “I checked her tests. Everything was normal.”

“And yet she couldn’t breathe,” he shot back. “I saw it. I was right there.”

“So because you panicked, my judgment doesn’t matter?” I asked.

He sighed like I was exhausting him. “Why are you getting so defensive?”

“Because you’re questioning my work,” I snapped. “You’re questioning me.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Tim, come on. You’ve never liked her. Of course that affects how you see things.”

The words burned.

“I’m a doctor,” I said. “I don’t let personal feelings decide diagnoses.”

He hesitated, just for a second.

That pause said everything.

“I’m not saying you did it on purpose,” he said quickly. “I’m just saying… you might not be as objective as you think.”

Something cold settled in my chest.

“So after all these years,” I said slowly, “you really think I’d risk someone’s life because of jealousy?”

He frowned. “You’re twisting my words.”

“No,” I said. “I’m hearing them very clearly.”

He stepped closer and lowered his voice, like he was calming a child. “Look, I just don’t want tension. I want the people I care about to get along.”

The people I care about.

Like I was an obstacle.

He pulled me into a hug suddenly, one arm around my shoulders. Familiar and automatic, the kind of hug that used to mean something.

“I just hope my best friend and my wife can coexist,” he said lightly. “That’s not too much to ask, right?”

My body went stiff in his arms. My jaw locked. I stared at the wall over his shoulder, feeling small, boxed in, brushed aside.

“Of course,” I said.

He laughed and pulled away, giving my shoulder a firm pat.

“Buddy,” he said, half-smiling, “you’re not actually jealous, are you? Laura even joked once that we’re so close she wondered if you were gay.”