Clara sat in the hospital waiting area, her phone buzzing in her hand. She glanced at the screen and froze. Nathaniel.
Oh no.
She'd completely forgotten to call him.
Taking a deep breath, she answered. "Hey, Nathaniel."
"Clara?" His voice came through the line, calm but with that edge of worry she recognized instantly. "Where are you? You were supposed to be at work an hour ago."
Clara winced. "Yeah… about that."
"Clara."
"There was an accident," she said quickly, before he could jump to conclusions. "But I wasn't in it, I swear. I just—someone got hurt, and I helped. I'm at the hospital now."
There was a short pause. Then, "I'm coming to get you."
"No!" she said, maybe a little too loudly. A nurse looked over from the desk, and Clara lowered her voice. "You don't have to. I'm fine, really. The woman's the one who was hurt, not me. I just want to make sure she's okay before I leave."
"Clara…"
"Please, Nathaniel. Don't worry. I'll text you once I know she's alright."
Another pause. She could almost hear him frowning on the other end. Finally, he sighed. "Alright. But if you're not back at work by noon, I'm coming there myself."
"Deal," she said with a small smile. "Thanks, Nat."
"Just… be careful," he said softly, and then the line clicked.
Clara slipped her phone back into her bag, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
They weren't even in a real relationship and he was fussing over her like a worried husband.
Before she could settle again, a doctor walked out from one of the rooms, scanning the waiting area. "Miss Clara?"
She stood immediately. "Yes, that's me."
The doctor gave her a reassuring smile. "The woman you brought in—she's awake now. She asked to see you."
Clara blinked in surprise. "She did?"
"Yes. She seems quite fond of you already," the doctor said with a small chuckle. "Right this way."
Clara followed him down the hall, her heart thudding in her chest. When they reached the room, the doctor pushed open the door and gestured her in.
The woman lay propped up against the pillows, a faint smile already forming when she saw Clara step inside. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, with kind eyes that somehow felt familiar even in her pale, tired face.
"There you are," the woman said, her voice soft but warm. "My little rescuer."
Clara blinked, a little startled. "You remember me?"
"How could I forget?" the woman said, her smile widening. "You held my hand the whole time. You wouldn't let go."
"And we met at the dinner party."
Clara's cheeks warmed. "I just… didn't want you to be alone."
The woman studied her for a moment, eyes gentle. "You have a kind heart, dear. Not many people stop to help these days."
Clara smiled shyly and stepped closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"A bit bruised, but alive," the woman said with a small laugh. "Thanks to you."
Clara shook her head. "I just called for help. The doctors did everything else."
The woman reached out and took her hand, squeezing it lightly. "Still. Thank you, Clara."
Hearing her name from the woman's lips made something twist in Clara's chest—something she couldn't quite explain. There was something about this woman, something quietly familiar.
"Do we… know each other?" Clara asked hesitantly.
The woman's smile didn't fade, but her eyes softened in a way that made Clara's heart skip. "Not yet, dear," she said. "But I have a feeling we will."
The woman squeezed her hand gently, then smiled again — the kind of smile that reached her eyes.
Clara didn't understand why, but her heart gave a small, strange flutter.
Something about this woman — her presence, her voice — felt familiar. Like she wasn't just a stranger she'd helped by chance.
Like she was someone who was meant to cross her path.