When you've been understanding for long enough, even hurt starts to feel out of place.

"Dr. James."

It was the first time I'd ever called him that.

He looked up, something shifting in his eyes.

"If the one lying here today were Joyce, would you still send her away?"

His face went cold.

"Lena, don't put the two of you side by side. Joyce has always been frail. She can't handle stress."

"I just lost the baby."

For a moment the ward went quiet.

Harvey's throat moved.

But he looked away soon enough.

"I know. That's exactly why I want you to stay calm."

There was a knock at the door.

Joyce leaned half her face in, her eyes red.

"Harvey, should I not have come? If your wife doesn't want to see me, I'll go right now."

Harvey turned and steadied her by the shoulders.

"Don't stand in the doorway in the draft."

Joyce set the bowl of oatmeal on the nightstand, her voice so soft it was as if she were afraid of breaking something.

"I had the housekeeper make this for you. Try to eat a little. We're both women, I know how hard this is for you right now."

I looked at that bowl.

It was full of dried dates.

The nurse had reminded me just last night not to eat anything too sweet or too rich for a while after the surgery.

Joyce probably didn't know that.

Harvey did.

But all he said was, "Joyce means well. Don't make that face again."

I lifted my hand and pushed the bowl a little farther away.

"Take it back."

Joyce's eyes reddened on the spot.

"I didn't know you were pregnant. If I'd known last night, I never would have let Harvey come with me."

Harvey frowned.

"Lena, don't take it out on her."

I watched the way he shielded Joyce behind him, and suddenly I had no strength left to speak.

A nurse came in to change my dressing and gently warned, "Ms. Swanson needs rest now. Family should try not to upset the patient."

He checked his watch.

"I have clinic. I'll arrange the transfer. Don't be difficult."

He left, taking Joyce with him. The door closed.

On the nightstand, the bowl of date oatmeal was still steaming.

I reached over, opened the drawer, and took out the copies of my medical records and the consent form.

The line for the family signature was blank.

I folded them, page by page, and put them in my bag.

My phone lit up. A text from the neighboring branch.

"Ms. Swanson, Dr. James has booked your transfer for seven o'clock this evening."

I stared at that line for a long time.

Then I dialed a number I hadn't called in a long while.

"Claudia, I'd like to apply for the residency slot at Southport Women's & Children's. Is it too late?"

The other end went still for a few seconds.

"Lena, you've finally decided to leave?"

When the nurse wheeled in a wheelchair, I had just stuffed my last coat into the bag.

"Dr. James said it would be best for you to use the chair."

Laughter drifted from the far end of the hall.

Joyce was sitting beside the nurses' station, an IV line taped to her wrist, a few young nurses gathered around her.

Her voice was soft and sweet.

"Harvey really does make a fuss over nothing. I just felt a little faint, and he insisted I be admitted for observation."

One nurse smiled. "Dr. James is so good to you, Miss Fox. Everyone in the department knows it."

Another lowered her voice. "More attentive than he is to his own wife, even."

When they finished, they suddenly noticed me.

The laughter stopped.

Joyce looked up too, a flicker of panic crossing her face before she pulled a smile back into place.

"Are you leaving, Lena?"

I sat in the wheelchair and didn't look at her.

Harvey came out of the office, a transfer form in his hand.

"The paperwork's done. Someone will meet you when you get to the other branch."

He handed the discharge slip to the nurse, his movements as smooth as if this were any routine release.

I asked, "You're not seeing me over?"

Harvey paused, then glanced at Joyce.

"Joyce has to be on cardiac monitoring soon, I can't get away. It's a ten-minute trip. Don't make more of it than it is."

"Mm."

I answered too fast, and that of all things made him frown.

"Lena, can you not be passive-aggressive for one day?"

I rested my hands on my knees.

"Dr. James, am I not even allowed to say 'mm'?"

Beside us, the nurse kept her head down over the charts, but her ears were turned our way.

Joyce bit her lip and tugged lightly at Harvey's sleeve.

"Harvey, why don't you go ahead and see your wife over. I'll be fine on my own."

A step back that only made me look worse.

Harvey's face darkened.

"There's no need to coddle her. She's a nurse. She knows what matters."

I was a nurse, yes. After we married I'd quit the top-tier hospital for the community clinic, because he said it would be easier, more convenient once we had a child.

Now the child was gone.

All he remembered was that I was a nurse, which meant I should be able to endure more than anyone else.

The elevator doors opened.

Just before the wheelchair was pushed in, Joyce hurried over and draped a thin blanket across my legs.

"Don't be angry anymore. A woman who loses a child can have another. But Harvey's work can't be affected."

I lifted my eyes to her.

"Did your test results come back?"

Joyce froze.

"What?"

I nodded at the slip in her hand.

"Last night you said the follow-up was serious. But I just saw the log at the nurses' station. It's only mild anemia."

The color drained from her face.

Harvey cut in, his voice cold. "Lena, now you'll even drag out a patient's privacy?"

"She's the one waving her own results around the hallway."

"Enough."

He reached out and held the elevator door, leaning down to look at me.

"Joyce has been frail since she was a child. She's afraid of hospitals. Do you really have to push her like this?"

I'd looked at this face for three years. There was a time, when he came home from work, I could find a little warmth in his eyes that belonged to me.

Now there was only impatience.

The doors slid slowly shut.

In the last sliver of the gap, I heard Joyce say softly, "Harvey, does she hate me now?"

Harvey's voice was low.

"She's just losing control. She'll be fine in a couple of days."

I lowered my eyes.

I wouldn't be fine.

The room at the neighboring branch was even quieter than I'd expected.

The nurse hung my IV and left.

I sat on the edge of the bed and opened the email on my phone.

My senior colleague from Southport Women's & Children's had written back.

"There's still one residency spot, but it needs a recommendation from your current employer and a statement on your marital and childbearing status. Are you well enough to handle it right now?"

I looked at the words marital and childbearing status, my fingertip resting there a long time.

In the end I wrote back: "I am."

At eight that night, a text came from Harvey.

"Did you eat the oatmeal?"

Three minutes later, another.

"Don't ruin your health out of spite."

I didn't reply.

At ten, the feed refreshed.

Joyce had posted a photo of the hospital's night lights.

The caption: "Turns out having someone watch over you when you're sick really does put your heart at ease."

In the corner of the photo, the cuff of Harvey's white coat showed.

I set the phone face-down on the nightstand.

Moonlight came down and fell across the back of my hand.

The vein beneath the needle was tinged blue.

The first year we were married, I ran a fever of a hundred and two. He was on a night shift and rushed home before dawn to make me oatmeal, telling me that from then on, whenever I was sick, he would be there.

After that, he was always at the hospital.

Just never beside me.

Someone knocked. I thought it was the nurse, and looked up to see Harvey standing in the doorway with a thermos in his hand.

「Lena, let's talk.」

Harvey set the thermos on the nightstand and twisted off the lid.

Fish congee, plain and light.

It used to be my favorite thing he made.

He moved slowly, holding the spoon out to me.

「Joyce just fell asleep, so I came to check on you.」

I didn't take it.

「Dr. James must be busy.」

His brows drew down.

「I know you're upset, but don't talk to me like that.」

I looked at the bowl of congee.

The fish was sliced thin, the ginger picked out clean.

「Is bringing congee the only reason you came?」

Harvey sat down in the chair by the bed, his voice gentling.

「Transferring you to the other branch was thoughtless of me. If you're not comfortable there, I'll move you back tomorrow.」

A day earlier, that line might have softened me.

But my phone was still open on Joyce's posts.

I asked, : 「And after I move back? You'll keep avoiding Joyce?」

He said nothing.

I gave a small laugh.

「See? You won't even lie to me once.」

Harvey raised a hand and pressed at the space between his brows.

「Joyce has no family here. She saved my life.」

I'd heard this so many times.

Joyce saved him. So when she's scared of the dark he stays with her, when she has a follow-up he watches over it himself.

And I'm supposed to understand, supposed to step aside, supposed to be considerate of that 「bond forged through life and death.」

I said, : 「Then what about our child?」

Harvey's fingers went stiff.

「Lena.」

「It never saved your life, so it didn't matter?」

His face changed.

「Don't say things like that.」

「Then how should I say it?」 I looked up at him. 「That it was just unlucky, that it happened to clash with Joyce's checkup?」

Harvey stood up, his voice dropping lower.

「You're not in a stable state right now. I won't argue with you.」

The moment I open my mouth, I'm not in a stable state.

I pushed back the blanket and got out of bed, the IV stand dragging with a faint rattle.

Harvey reached out to steady me.

I moved away.

His hand hung in the air, then drew back slowly.

「Where are you going?」

「The bathroom.」

「I'll help you.」

「No need.」

I walked slowly, my lower belly heavy and aching.

I'd barely reached the door when Joyce's call came in.

Harvey glanced at it and answered on instinct.

「What is it?」

His tone tightened all at once.

「Don't cry, I'm coming right back.」

He hung up and looked at me.

「Joyce woke up and couldn't find me. She's a little broken up. I'll go back first and come again tomorrow.」

I held on to the door frame.

「Harvey.」

He stopped.

I asked, : 「If I told you I'm in pain right now too, would you stay?」

Something struggled in his eyes.

Brief.

Brief enough to feel imagined.

「The nurse is right outside. Ring the bell.」

He picked up his coat and headed out, and I heard him add one more thing.

「Stop using your body to sulk.」

The room went quiet again.

The bowl of fish congee was still steaming.

I walked over and put the lid back on.

The next morning, the nursing office called.

「Your residency application to Southport — Dr. James says it won't be approved for now.」

I gripped my phone.

「On what grounds?」

「You just had a miscarriage. You're not fit for it physically or mentally, and your marital situation needs to be watched too.」

I closed my eyes for a moment.

「I understand.」

A message came in from Harvey: : 「Let the residency wait for now. Don't do anything rash. Once you're better, I'll take you somewhere to clear your head.」

Clear my head.

He always liked to slap a pretty bandage over a wound. Whether or not it was festering underneath.

That afternoon I went back to the department for my file, and as I reached the door I heard people talking.