Clara leaned against the wall for one second.
“I chose medically.”
“That doesn’t make it easy.”
“No,” she said. “It makes it necessary.”
She showered, changed her scrubs, and went straight back to the school-bus patients.
By noon, the storm had softened. Ethan woke in the intensive care unit with a tube delivering oxygen beneath his nose. The first thing he did was ask for Clara.
She entered his room carrying his chart.
Relief flooded his face.
“You saved her.”
“I treated a patient.”
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