I walked over to the counter, printed out the discharge paperwork, and handed the clipboard to Elias. He looked at me, his eyes begging for mercy, begging for five minutes to explain the impossible hell he had been living in. “Keep the bandage dry,” I told him, my voice completely devoid of the emotion tearing me apart inside.

“Give her Tylenol for the pain. You can follow up with her pediatrician in a week for stitch removal.” “Adelaide, please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please let me explain. I didn’t know about the baby. If I had known…” I looked at him—really looked at him.

I saw the boy I loved, the man who broke my heart, and the father of my child, all wrapped into one devastated shell of a person. “You made your choice to protect your daughter, Elias,” I said softly, the finality of my words echoing in the sterile room.

“And now, I have a shift to finish so I can provide for mine.” I turned my back on the only man I had ever truly loved, walked out of Trauma Bay Two, and let the heavy glass doors slide shut behind me.