1 At the overlook, I shifted angles repeatedly, chasing the perfect light. Framing Dana in my lens, I called out three times. She did not seem to hear me, her eyes fixed elsewhere. It was only when Owen shouted for her to smile that she lit up, beaming at him with a warmth I had not seen in months. A passing couple glimpsed Owen’s screen and laughed. Man, your girl must really adore you. Look at how her eyes light up. Owen’s ears flushed crimson. Dana cleared her throat, shifting her weight. I looked down at my DSLR. The viewfinder captured only a blurred side profile, making me look like a paparazzo hiding in the bushes. Since childhood, they had overlooked me, assuming I would follow their lead. In high school, they planned every road trip, taking for granted I would tag along. Later, they chose medicine and enrolled me in nursing without asking. Now they were celebrated as the ER’s Dream Team, while I worked myself to the bone just to keep up. I looked up. They were already walking shoulder to shoulder toward the next stop, certain I was behind them. But this time, I turned and walked the other way. After a lifetime of trailing behind them like a shadow, even a shadow grows tired of following. It took Dana three hours to realize I was gone. The text she sent was cold and demanding. [Where did you run off to? Go grab us some iced lattes from the entrance. Did you seriously get lost again?] I couldn’t even remember how many times she only reached out because she needed something from me. I didn’t reply. I just locked my screen and kept organizing the medical supplies. Our head nurse, Martha, walked back from her rounds and stared at me in confusion. “Wait, Gavin? Didn’t you save up all your PTO to go on that trip with them? Why are you back so early?” My hands froze on the medicine vials. Dana and Owen only had to pull off a single successful emergency surgery to get rewarded with a week-long paid vacation. Meanwhile, I had to hoard every precious hour of my annual leave just to tag along. Yet, the trip I had looked forward to for months had only made me feel like an invisible ghost. Another three hours passed. Owen sauntered up to the nurses’ station clutching a massive plush bear. He tapped my shoulder, grinning. “Hey man! Dana and I had to fake-hug for a whole thirty minutes to win this in a couples’ contest. My arms are literally dead, but hey, anything to cheer up my best bud!” Earlier that day, I had suggested we enter that same contest, but Dana had dismissed me with a cold, “Don’t be childish.” So I dropped it. But the moment Owen wanted it, she was more than willing to pretend to be his partner. We were the ones in a relationship, yet my chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. Seeing that I wasn’t reaching for it, Dana shoved the plush toy into my arms, her face darkening. “You walked off without a word earlier, and Owen is still thinking about you. Who are you throwing a tantrum for?” Her sharp tone drew disapproving glares from the surrounding staff. Owen quickly stepped in to play the peacemaker, a role he knew all too well. “Come on, Dana, you know you sound terrible when you say stuff like that,” he said, turning back to me with an apologetic smile. “Gavin, you aren’t still sore about the photo thing, are you? Tell you what, I’ve got tons of hilarious, ugly photos of her on my phone. Let me show you!” He unlocked his screen, showing off his gallery like a playful act of revenge. The woman who was always so rigid and professional in front of me was pulling goofy faces and laughing hysterically in his photos. Meanwhile, my own camera roll was filled with over a thousand candid photos, each capturing only a fraction of her face. Dana playfully wrapped her arm around his neck, teasingly squeezing his shoulders. “I told you never to show anyone those! You’re dead, Owen!” “Alright, alright! I give up, man!” I stood there like an idiot, feeling entirely like the “anyone” she referred to. I turned away, walked straight up to the top floor, and knocked on the medical director’s door. “Director Harrison, I’ve decided to accept the overseas fellowship.” The director’s face lit up with excitement, though a hint of worry quickly followed. “Gavin, I’m thrilled to hear that. But have you discussed this with your supervising physician?” My supervising physician was Dana. When we first started at the hospital, both Owen and I were interns under her supervision. But Owen was the only one she fast-tracked for a permanent position. During my residency, I made absolutely zero mistakes and received three commendations, but she shrugged it off as just doing your job. I pulled consecutive double shifts to catch up on patient charts, and she called it the slow bird trying to catch the worm. But when Owen managed to stabilize a single seizure patient on his own, she flooded the director’s office with recommendation letters, securing him a spot in the trauma unit. Over time, I realized that no matter how hard I ran to catch up, the distance between us only widened. I shook my head, a sense of relief washing over me. “No need to discuss it with her. This is my decision.” When I left the hospital that night, a torrential downpour was hammering the streets. Dana popped open her umbrella, naturally pulling Owen close under her arm. I stood behind them, having forgotten my own umbrella, completely drenched. She blinked, looking back at me. “I’ll drop Owen off at the car first, then come back for you.” Before I could even answer, she was already running into the storm, shielding Owen. The wind was biting, and I sneezed repeatedly, shivering under the awning. An hour dragged by. Freezing and exhausted, I dialed her number. It took twenty minutes of continuous ringing before she finally picked up. In the background, the sounds of a video game roared. Dana’s voice was laced with the annoyance of someone who had been interrupted. “Oh, sorry. I totally forgot. Honestly, Gavin, you’re so dense sometimes. If I didn’t show up, you should’ve just hailed a cab instead of standing there like a statue. Fine, I’ll call an Uber for you.” Right then, Owen’s voice cut through the line, whining, “Cover me, cover me! We’re gonna lose!” The call was cut off without another word. I stood at the entrance, cold rain mixing with the tears on my face. I walked nearly two miles through the storm before I finally managed to flag down a taxi. The driver handed me a napkin, shaking his head. “Tough night, huh? There’ve been a couple of muggings around this area lately. You shouldn’t be wandering out here alone in this weather. Didn’t you have anyone to pick you up?” Hearing his words, a sudden chill ran down my spine. There had indeed been a string of violent robberies near the hospital. Dana had even ordered pepper spray and tactical alarms online, stuffing them into Owen’s backpack. She hadn’t bought a single thing for me. When I had asked her about it back then, she had leaned into my chest, murmuring, “Why would you need that when you have a girlfriend to walk you to your car every day?” Now, I had neither the protection nor the girl. I pushed open the front door of our apartment to find Dana blow-drying Owen’s hair. He was wearing my pajama set, the matching couple’s set I had bought. Hearing the door, Dana turned off the dryer, her expression instantly souring. “You’re finally back. Owen and I were worried sick. We were just about to go out and look for you.” The two of them were showered, warm, and wearing matching loungewear. They didn’t look like they had any intention of stepping foot outside. My eyes stung, and the bitterness I had bottled up finally boiled over. “Did it ever cross your mind that I could have been in danger out there? I’m your boyfriend, Dana, not him!” Dana froze. Owen’s face flushed bright red. He pushed past her, grabbing his coat and rushing out the door. Dana muttered a curse and made to follow him, but then stopped, turning back to me with a glare. “Did you take the wrong meds today? You were the one being stupid, and now you’re taking your attitude out on us? Tomorrow, Owen and I have a shift. There’s a surgery scheduled, and you’re going to assist. Consider it your way of making up for this tantrum.” She spun around and ran out to chase after Owen. I stood in the hallway, soaked to the bone, mud dripping from my jeans onto the hardwood floor. I was always the one left waiting for orders, never even given the chance to say no. The next morning, I woke up with my head spinning. I checked my temperature, and it was nearly 104 degrees. My vision swam, and I could barely lift my eyelids. I called Dana and Owen over ten times, but neither of them picked up. Desperate, I dialed the emergency line. Hearing Dana’s voice on the dispatch receiver, I felt like I was grabbing onto a lifeline. “Dana, please, I have a really high fever.” “Gavin? Why are you calling this line?” her voice snapped. “You’re clogging up the emergency line just because you’re sick? You’re a medical professional, Gavin. Act like one instead of playing games.” Suddenly, Owen’s voice drifted through the receiver, sounding on the verge of tears. “My mom just slipped and threw her back out! She can’t move at all! Dana, please, I called an ambulance but you need to help me.” His frantic cries drowned out my weak plea. The call was cut off. Eventually, a colleague noticed I hadn’t showed up for my shift and sent an EMT team to my apartment. When I finally opened my eyes, the attending physician on duty sighed heavily. “High-grade fever caused some mild neurological strain. You went to nursing school, Gavin. You know how dangerous that is.” I knew. And as a chief resident, Dana should have known better than anyone. It was past midnight when Dana finally realized I had been admitted. She walked in straight from her rounds, her white lab coat still on, and picked up the chart at the foot of my bed. “The fever is down, but we should run another IV to be safe.” Her hand brushed against my forehead, her touch unusually gentle, but I only stared at her with cold eyes. “I told you I was burning up. Why didn’t you help me?” Her hand paused, her brows knitting together. “Gavin, an elderly woman is fragile. What if she had fractured her hip? As medical staff, you should know how to prioritize.” But her favorite motto had always been that no patient’s life was worth more than another’s. Owen walked in then, his face a mask of guilt. “Gavin, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. My mom’s accident was so poorly timed, otherwise we wouldn’t have tied up the emergency dispatch.” Dana glanced at me coldly before turning to soothe him. “Accidents happen, Owen. Don’t beat yourself up. Gavin has always been dramatic about minor things anyway.” My voice fell flat and cold. “The hospital has more than one ambulance, Dana.” The faint smile on her face vanished, replaced by irritation. “But you’re fine now, aren’t you? Owen was panicking, and I couldn’t focus. Besides, I knew you’ve always been independent enough to take care of yourself.” Perhaps the squeaky wheel always got the grease. Or perhaps I was simply never her priority. But this time, I had almost died. This wasn’t just another petty snub. The bitter lump in my throat tasted like ash. I swallowed it down and said quietly, “Dana, let’s break up.” I turned away from her and closed my eyes. Owen tugged at my blanket from behind, his voice cracking. “Gavin, please. I’m so sorry. Blame me, but don’t do this.” Behind him, Dana let out a dry, bitter laugh. “Is this your first day knowing him, Owen? He probably saw some video online about playing hard to get. He’s never had a spine before. Suddenly he’s acting out like he’s someone else.” The two of them continued to talk about my passive nature, completely ignoring the flight confirmation notification that had just popped up on my phone screen. My final shift before leaving was assisting the two of them in the operating room. A male patient had been brought in after a head-on collision, and his vitals were highly unstable. During the procedure, I read out the vitals clearly. “Heart rate 120. Preparing beta-blockers.” Yet, Owen administered a dosage meant for a heart rate of 125. The monitor immediately erupted into a shrill alarm. Dana, acting as the lead surgeon, barked, “Get out! Both of you! Call Dr. Bennett to scrub in!” After a grueling three-hour rescue, the patient was stabilized. Dana walked out of the OR, ripping off her mask, her face livid. “What the hell was that? How do you make a rookie mistake like that?” Owen’s eyes instantly welled with tears. “I swear I heard 125. I’m sorry, I must have misheard.” Dana’s accusatory glare locked onto me. My chest tightened, and I quickly defended myself. “Everyone in that room heard me. I said 120.” Dana sighed, her impatience clear. “A mistake was made, Gavin, and someone has to take responsibility.” Without another word, she marked a giant UNSATISFACTORY on my annual performance review. The year-end excellence award wasn’t just a title; it came with a triple bonus. I had worked harder than anyone, practically living at the hospital and pulling consecutive 24-hour shifts to earn it. My eyes stung, my voice rasping. “The rest of the board already voted to approve my nomination.” Dana only offered a cold shrug. “Every file requires a comprehensive evaluation.” Behind her, a smug smirk played on Owen’s lips. Five years of sleepless nights and absolute dedication evaporated in a single second. Five hours remained until my flight. I gathered my belongings from the nurses’ station and packed them into a cardboard box. The other nurses steered clear of me, treating me like a pariah. Dana walked up, flanked by a group of interns. “I won’t be too harsh on you this time. I’ll have you reassigned to the triage desk. You have the patience for it anyway. Write a five-thousand-word reflection, apologize to the patient’s family, and we’ll put this behind us.” She looked down at me, waiting for me to bow my head, apologize, and beg for forgiveness like I always did. But I didn’t say a word. I picked up my heavy box and walked out. By the time Dana texted me demanding the reflection essay, my flight had already taken off. Owen was assigned to cover my shifts as a penalty, and Dana stayed at the hospital with him for three straight days to help him through. She figured a few days of silence would give me time to cool down and realize how foolish I was being. When the three days were up, Dana walked down to the nurses’ station, ready to take me home. She met Martha just as she was coming out of the locker room. “Hey Martha, can you call Gavin out for me? I’m taking him home.” Martha stared at her in utter disbelief, uttering a sentence that left Dana frozen in her tracks. “Dr. Dana, Gavin left for an overseas fellowship three days ago.”
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