“Not anymore.”
“My daughter teaches school.”
“My son is in graduate school.”
“Wife?”
Ethan looked through the windshield.
“Passed away.”
The woman’s face changed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“How long?”
“Four years.”
She let the silence sit.
Ethan appreciated that.
Most people rushed to fill grief with sentences.
The emergency department was bright enough to hurt.
Ethan parked near the entrance and found a wheelchair inside.
A nurse helped the woman transfer.
“What’s your name?” the registration clerk asked.
Before she could answer, another nurse recognized her.
“Ms. Hail?”
Ethan stopped.
The name reached him first.
Then the face.
The boardroom photograph.
The email.
The woman from Conference Room 3B.
He looked properly now.
Hair wet.
No executive lighting.
No formal posture.
Still Victoria Hail.
She looked at him.
Recognition took longer for her.
Then it arrived.
“Ethan.”
He went still.
The nurse looked between them.
“You know each other?”
Ethan answered first.
“Work.”
Victoria’s face changed.
Not embarrassment exactly.
Something heavier.
“Oh my God.”
Ethan looked toward the exit.
“You’re safe.”
He started to leave.
“Wait.”
He stopped.
Victoria gripped the wheelchair arm.
“I know who you are.”
Ethan turned.
“I recognize you too.”
No accusation.
That made it worse.
Victoria looked at his soaked clothes.
His hands blackened from the tire.
Her own shoulders covered by his jacket.
“You stopped.”
“Yes.”
“After this morning.”
Ethan said nothing.
Victoria’s voice lowered.
“After I signed your termination.”
The nurse quietly moved away.
Ethan looked at her.
“You needed help.”
Victoria seemed almost angry at the simplicity.
“You didn’t have to.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Ethan considered.
“Because what happened this morning didn’t change what was happening tonight.”
She stared.
“You were stranded.”
“I could help.”
“That’s all.”
Victoria’s eyes filled slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
Ethan exhaled.
“You don’t have to do this here.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
“I signed it.”
“Yes.”
“I barely read it.”
That surprised him.
Not because he suspected otherwise.
Because she admitted it.
Victoria swallowed.
“I signed your termination without reading your complete file.”
Ethan looked toward the reception desk.
“That sounds like something you should think about.”
The sentence landed without cruelty.
Victoria nodded.
“I will.”
A nurse returned.
“We need to take you back for imaging.”
Victoria looked toward Ethan.
He held out his hand.
“My jacket.”
She blinked.
Then laughed through the humiliation of the moment.
“Right.”
She began removing it.
Ethan stopped her.
“Keep it until you’re warm.”
“You’re soaked.”
“I noticed.”
The nurse began moving the wheelchair.
Victoria twisted slightly.