"I've reviewed your case. There's hope for you. Don't worry, no patient of mine has ever given up on themselves," he said with a reassuring smile like a ray of light cutting through the darkness of my life.
I stared at him, and something about his smile-his eyes-reminded me of York. They were just as clear, just as innocent.
"Medicine is great, but nothing beats the sunshine. Let's go for a walk," his tone gentle but unyielding.
"I'm tired,"
Before I could respond, he signaled the nurse to bring over a wheelchair.
Then, without warning, he swept me into his arms in a princess carry and placed me in the wheelchair.
I was stunned by his suddenness but didn't push him away.
I couldn't help it-there was something about him that reminded me of York.
I began cooperating with my treatment.
Dr. Jenkins would accompany me on walks whenever he had time, and soon, I found myself eagerly awaiting his rounds.
My health improved, and as our bond grew beyond the doctor-patient relationship.
One day, as we sat together, he took my hand and said softly, "I think it's time we take things to the next level. Next week, there's a family gathering. I want to bring you along."
I froze. Is this happening so fast?
Five years with York, and he never once took me to meet his family. But with Woodruff, just three months in, and I was going to meet his parents?
The day of the gathering, Woodruff took me shopping for a red dress. The moment I put it on, I felt like a new person-healthier, more alive.
I was worried about what his family would think if they knew I was sick, but Woodruff had once said, "A firm choice is more important than any romance."
I wasn't sure if I believed in fate, but in that moment, I understood what he meant.
When we arrived at Woodruff's home, my anxiety only grew. The large garden, the mansion, the servants-everything screamed wealth. I walked in with him, my heart pounding.
"The others aren't here yet, we've arrived first. Let's wait for them," Woodruff said, his hand gently guiding me.
"Okay," I whispered, trying to steady myself.
"Sit here. I'll go grab you some fresh juice," he walked toward the kitchen.
As I waited, I noticed the family photos on the mantle above the fireplace. I ran my fingers over them, one by one, until I reached a photo of Woodruff as a child.
He looked so innocent. But then, my eyes froze on one particular picture.
It was a photo of Woodruff with someone else. York.
My heart skipped a beat.
Before I could process the shock, Woodruff came back with the juice.
He saw the blood on my hands, and panic flashed across his face.
"Zenobia! You're bleeding," . He rushed me to the car and sped back to the hospital.
On the way there,my mind racing. How could I have missed this?
Woodruff glanced at me, concern written all over his face. "We'll be at the hospital soon. Where are you hurting?"
"Pull over," I ordered suddenly.
"Zenobia, what's wrong?"
"Stop the car,"
Woodruff pulled over and reached out to touch my head. "What's happening?"
"Why... why do you have a picture with York?"
"He's my nephew. I'm his uncle."
I was stunned.
"You knew about York and me all along?"
"No, not at first," his brow furrowed.
"I didn't know, but then his father mentioned you to me. I felt for you and wanted to help, but I never expected to fall for you. I'm so sorry, Zenobia. I never meant to hide it from you."
He pulled me into an embrace.
"And York... I'm sure you've figured out what happened. He and Winnie, they've been in contact for a while. They were still meeting, going to hotels together."
His words sliced through me like a knife. They'd been together all along.
My heart broke into a thousand pieces. But at that moment, I could feel Woodruff's arms around me-comforting, gentle. He wasn't York. He never would be.
Yet, even in his warmth, I could still see York's face, his eyes, his smile. I wanted to confess my feelings to Woodruff, but every time I saw the care he gave me, my words got stuck.
He was the light in my life now, and I couldn't bear to hurt him.
