He catches my eye and lifts a hand in a small wave, then gestures me forward.
I scan the room out of habit.
No sign of Brant.
My chest tightens as disappointment fills me, but I try to mask it.
Maybe he’s busy.Maybe he’s avoiding this.Avoiding me.
I keep moving, past nods and hugs, pretending I don’t care.
My dad clears his throat, and the room falls quiet.
“It’s been an honor having my daughter here as a resident.”
I freeze, my chest tightening.Don’t cry, not in front of everyone.
“She earned her place,” he continues.“No one made it easy for her.Especially not me.”Laughter ripples through the crowd.“But she’s proved herself.With Dr.Gould and”—his eyes skim the crowd— “with Dr.Harrison.”
My stomach drops.
I follow his line of sight.
There.In the back corner, half-shadowed and unsmiling, stands Brant.
His charcoal suit is crisp, his tie slightly crooked.His arms are folded, his jaw tense.He looks like he doesn’t want to be here.
But he is.
And suddenly, the air feels like it’s been sucked out of the room.
Someone presses a knife into my hand, taking my attention away from him.“Cake?”
I paste on a smile.“Sure.”
I cut the first slice of the white cake with gold trim, ‘Good Luck in New York’ written in black across the top.Keeping my eyes down, I focus on each slice.
When I glance up again, Brant’s gone.
No goodbye.No last look.Just gone.
Something breaks cleanly inside me.
I make it through the rest of the party on autopilot, accepting hugs, promises to keep in touch, and laughing at jokes.By the time the last person leaves, my face aches from smiling.
Back on the ward, Mason and I are visiting patients, writing patient notes, and signing off on orders.He walks me through final discharges like it’s any other shift, cracking dumb jokes to keep things normal.I pretend it works.
As we pass the lockers, Mason taps my arm.“So, I’m thinking about applying for a clinical leadership role.”
I blink, forcing my mind to catch up, to focus on him instead of the hole in my chest.“Really?”
“Yeah.Figured it’s time to level up.You kinda lit that fire under me, to be honest.”
My throat tightens again.“Then you better keep kicking ass.”
“I will if you do.”He holds out a hand, then pulls me into a hug.“Call if you get lonely in the big city.”
I won’t.We both know I won’t.This is a polite goodbye, the kind you say to a colleague you respect but won’t actually stay in touch with.“I will.”
