It had been over a month since he was gone.
My shoulder was mostly healed. I could move it more freely now, though not without consequence, of course. A dull ache still lingered, flaring up at the worst moments, it was like my body still refused to let me forget what had happened.
So I drowned myself in work. Long shifts, extra hours, anything to keep my mind occupied, even when it meant that I'd get less sleep. Anything to stop myself from retreating into my room, burying myself beneath the covers and wait for something that might never come.
Garrick had disappeared too.
And yet, somehow, his absence haunted me just the same. Every time I stepped into the hospital, I found myself expecting to see him loitering around the entrance or the corridors, leaning against walls like he belonged there. I could almost picture the expensive flowers he'd sent with the foolish hope that I'd take him back.
But they didn't come anymore.
Which just meant that Marcus—
Marcus was gone.
"Elena!" Julie's voice snapped me out of it.
"Yes?" I replied, turning too quickly and immediately wincing as a sharp pulse of pain shot through my shoulder.
"Sorry," she said, a little breathless. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, dark circles beneath her eyes that mirrored my own after another long night shift. "I was just asking if you're okay. You seemed...somewhere else."
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
I turned back to my computer, logging out before gathering my things, which wasn't much, really. Before I know it, I had signed out and was all ready to head back home.
Julie was zipping up her jacket while I waited by the door, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The nurses coming in for the next shift had already started filing through. Fresh, alert, looking far too put together for the hour. Ready for war.
I gave a small nod as they passed.
They nodded back, but their eyes lingered, sympathetic.
It was starting to get old.
"Are you alright?"
I turned to see Faye approaching, already in uniform. She was one of the nurses taking over my shift. A middle-aged Filipino woman with two kids, always neat, composed. Her dark hair pulled back into a tidy bun.
"Heard what happened," she added gently.
I nodded, then gave a small shrug, instantly regretting it as pain flared in my shoulder. I masked it as best as I could.
"I'm alive," I said lightly. "As you can see."
"Well," she said, stepping a little closer, lowering her voice, "are you together, then?"
I blinked. "What?"
"That John Doe guy," she said, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "He's not bad to look at. I'd run away with him too."
A small, disbelieving breath left me.
God. Is that what they thought?
"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. 'It's not like that. We're not—together." The words felt strange even as I said them. "He's...just...somewhere."
Sara studied me for a second longer, then gave a slow nod. "I see."
"Alright, that's enough interrogation for one morning," Julie cut in, stepping up beside me, her tone light but pointed. "We just survived a night shift. We deserve to go home before we collapse."
Sara laughed softly. "Fair enough. Go get some rest."
"See you tomorrow," Julie added.
"Take care, ah," Sara said, giving me one last look, gentler one this time, before heading off.
We said our goodbyes, then pushed through the doors and out of the hospital.
The early morning air hit immediately. Cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos inside. For a moment, neither of us spoke as we walked side by side toward the bus stop.
Then Julie sighed.
"You know people are talking, right?"
I let out a small breath, already expecting it. "I figured."
"They don't have the full story," she continued. "So they're...filling in the gaps."
"With what?" I asked dryly.
She gave me a look. "With whatever makes the situation more interesting."
I huffed softly, shaking my head. "I don't care."
And I meant it. Mostly, anyway.
"It'll die down," I added. "There's only so much they can say before they get bored. It's not like there's anything real to talk about anyway."
Julie glanced at me, like she wanted to say something more, but didn't.
And I was grateful for that.
"Well, get some rest, Jules," I said, lifting a hand in a small wave, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.
"You're not taking the bus?" she asked, glancing toward the line of buses pulling in, doors hissing open one after another.
I shook my head, following her gaze briefly before looking away. "No. I think I'll walk. the morning air's nice." I hesitated, then added, "I've been cooped up for too long."
Julie studied me for a moment, like she wasn't entirely convinced, but she didn't push.
"Alright," she said finally. "See you tomorrow. And seriously, get some rest, Elena."
"You too."
I turned just as she jogged ahead, weaving through the small crowd to catch her bus. Within seconds, she was gone, swallowed into the early morning rush.
I lingered for a moment longer, watching the street settle back into its rhythm.
Then I started walking.
At first, I didn't think much of where I was going. I just let my feet carry me forward, past the familiar shops, past the quiet cafés still setting up for the day. The air was cool, crisp with the tail end of winter, though spring had begun to creep in at the edges.
Somewhere along the way, without really meaning to, I drifted further than usual. And by the time I noticed, I was already walking through Verulamium Park.
The open stretch of green felt almost too quiet after the hospital. To my right, the ancient Roman walls ran along the edge of the park, worn but still standing. Unchanged, despite everything that had come and gone around them.
The trees behind them were still bare, branches stretching thin and skeletal against the pale morning sky. Spring hadn't quite taken ahold yet.
I slowed, then eventually stopped.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the ruins, at something that had outlasted centuries. Of wars, of entire lives.
Something that belonged to his world.
Had his hands ran through these stones and thought the same?
A strange feeling settled in my chest.
Before I could think too much about it, I moved toward one of the benches nearby and sat down, letting out a quiet breath as I leaned back.
The cold of it seeped through my jacket.
Grounding.
I stared ahead, but my thoughts...they were nowhere near the present.
I didn't realize it at first.
It started as a pressure in my chest, something quiet and persistent until my vision blurred and the ruins in front of me softened at the edges. My hand came up to my face, brushing beneath my eyes only to find it warm. I blinked, and more tears followed.
A shaky breath left me as I pressed my palm against my mouth, trying to steady myself. But this time, I couldn't.
It wasn't just the waiting. It wasn't just the uncertainty.
It was the fact that I could never see him again. Touch him again. Be with him again.
The way he looked at me then, like I was something already written into his life. The way he spoke of a life that should have been ours, as if it had been ruthlessly stolen, not imagined. A life I had never lived and never will, yet one that now lingered at the edges of my mind, impossible to ignore.
My shoulders trembled as I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, my hand still covering my face.
I was grieving something that had never even happened.
What a fool I've become, grieving over a man who shouldn't even have existed.
I let out a quiet, unsteady breath and let the tears fall, no longer trying to hold them back. Because what's the point?
I missed him.
God, I missed him.
The realization settled deep, heavy and unrelenting. I should've tried harder. Should've asked him to stay. Should've told him that I loved him. That I wanted him here, with me. That whatever he thought he had to finish...he could start anew.
That he could have a life here.
With me.
My breath caught as the thoughts spiraled, each one sharper than the last. I should have said it. I should have done something. Anything, just so he'd stay.
"Elena?"
I froze.