Each scrape of metal against snow made her pulse quicken. Freedom. Return.
The world creeping closer again.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The faintest flicker of a signal.
For a moment she just stared at it, watching it pulse with light like something alive. Then she picked it up.
One new voicemail.
Two unread texts.
The first was from the hospital administrator.
“Dr. South, confirming your OR block Monday morning and staff meeting at ten. Hope the storm clears soon. You’re missed.”
The second—shorter, sharper—was from Julia.
“Saw the weather reports. I suppose you’re stuck. Hope you brought good reading material.”
No warmth. No concern. Just that same cool civility that had once felt like respect.
Nia’s thumb hovered over the screen before she locked it again, setting the phone facedown as if that could mute the noise building in her chest.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the carpet until the pattern blurred.
Back to Phoenix Ridge. Back to order, to rounds, to surgical schedules, to being the woman who always had the answers.
The thought should have steadied her. It didn’t.
Because for the first time in years, she wasn’t sure she wanted that life untouched.
Her chest tightened with something that felt dangerously like panic.
The hospital was her refuge, her fortress—clean, sterile, predictable. But after these days of snow and warmth and Soren’s hands—God, those hands—returning to that world suddenly felt like stepping into a vacuum.
A soft knock broke her spiral.
She turned. The door opened a few inches, and Soren’s face appeared in the gap. Her hair was dusted with snow, cheeks flushed from the cold, tool belt slung low on her hips. “Hey,” she said, voice gentle. “You disappeared on me.”
Nia straightened, smoothing her sweater, forcing her composure back into place. “I needed to make some calls.”
Soren stepped inside, reading more than Nia wanted her to. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” Too fast.
Soren’s gaze flicked to the phone on the nightstand. “Work?”
Nia hesitated, then nodded. “They’re expecting me back. The flights should start tomorrow if the plows clear the road tonight.”
“Right.” Soren’s tone was neutral, but her jaw flexed slightly. “Guess that’s good news.”
“It is.”
The silence that followed was thick. The air between them shifted, cooling in ways Nia couldn’t name.
Soren leaned against the doorframe, hands in her pockets. “You look like you just remembered the real world exists.”
“I did.” Nia tried to smile, but it faltered halfway. “And I need to go back to it.”
