“Thank you,” I said. “You did not have to do that.”
He shrugged like it was nothing.
“You looked like you needed it.”
We talked for a few minutes, nothing dramatic or romantic, just a quiet pocket of calm in a place built for emergencies.
He told me his name was Elliot Hayes, that he worked nights handling operations and safety issues, and that he preferred nights because that was when things actually mattered. I told him about Lauren and my job in publishing, and he listened in a way that made me feel like my words were not just filling space.
At one point, a nurse walked past and started to say, “Doctor,” before catching herself and correcting mid sentence.
He did not react, but I noticed.
I filed it away and ignored it.
Three days later, he found me online.
I still do not know how.
His message was simple.
“Hope your friend is okay. If she is, would you like to get coffee sometime?”
I stared at my phone, feeling something unexpected spark to life.
Lauren leaned into my doorway with her wrist in a brace.
“Is that the hospital guy?” she asked.
“Apparently also an internet detective,” I said.
“Say yes,” she told me.
So I did.