On the third day, the city held a joint commendation ceremony for the chemical plant explosion rescue.
As head of the Emergency Internal Medicine Department, I'd been seated in the front row.
The ceremony opened, and the officials finished their speeches.
Daryl walked up to the podium in his crisp rescue uniform, taking long strides.
He'd always hated occasions like this.
At every meeting before, he would rattle off a few token lines from a script, impatient to be done.
But today was different.
He stood on the stage, gripping the microphone, his gaze traveling past the senior officials in the front row and settling on Imogen Fox in the back.
"The reason this chain-explosion rescue went so smoothly comes down to one person I want to single out for special recognition."
"Imogen Fox, an intern from the city hospital. Please stand up."
Imogen flushed red and rose, one hand pressed to her mouth.
Daryl looked at her, his voice gentler than I had ever heard it. "Imogen may only be a fresh graduate, an intern without even a permanent position. But yesterday, at an extremely dangerous explosion site, she kept her head. Not only did she stay on the front line saving lives, at the critical moment she drew up a flawless triage protocol."
"You could say she made a decisive contribution to the entire rescue operation."
Below the stage, the hospital leadership nodded one after another.
The deputy director sitting beside me smiled and led the applause.
"Young people these days really do surpass their elders."
Thunderous applause rolled through the hall.
Imogen bowed her head shyly and bowed again and again to the room, thoroughly enjoying praise that was never hers to begin with.
I watched it all coldly.
Yesterday, at the explosion site, Imogen had hidden behind Daryl the entire time.
She'd gotten even the most basic wound dressing wrong.
And now she'd somehow become the hero who made the decisive difference.
The host smiled and picked up the thread. "Let's invite Dr. Fox up to the stage to share the flawless triage protocol she drew up yesterday."
Imogen walked up and stood beside Daryl.
The two of them side by side, the talented man and the beautiful woman, made a strikingly matched pair.
The big screen behind them lit up.
The second I saw what was projected there, disbelief spread across my face.
The title of the slides: Emergency Triage Protocol for Major and Catastrophic Incidents.
This was the presentation I'd started preparing last month, poring over case studies of casualties at home and abroad, a protocol I'd tailored specifically for the rescue team.
Daryl had been right there at the time.
He'd even watched me forget to eat while I worked out bed-turnover rates.
And now, without so much as a blink, he was taking my life's work and using it to lift up his new favorite.
Imogen held a laser pointer, aiming it at the big screen, her voice soft and delicate.
"When facing mass-casualty blast injuries, I believe the first priority is to establish a three-tier triage system..."
The officials below kept nodding.
"Well put."
"Young people these days really are impressive."
I looked at the woman beaming on the stage, then at Daryl beside her, watching her with such open admiration.
I stood straight up from my seat.
The chair scraped against the floor with an ear-splitting screech, cutting Imogen off mid-sentence.
Every eye in the room turned to me.
Daryl's brows knit tight, and he stared me down.
I ignored him and looked up at Imogen. "Dr. Fox, I have two questions for you."
Imogen's hand froze on the laser pointer, her face going pale.
I took a step forward.
"Page three, on the yellow-zone classification for severe inhalation injury combined with extensive burns. What pathological mechanism did you base that priority level on?"
"Page five mentions pre-treatment for severe blast injury. On-site, without imaging support, how do you quickly rule out delayed rupture of internal organs?"
Everyone looked at Imogen.
The senior specialists and hospital leaders below sat up straight too.
Imogen's hand on the microphone began to shake.
She opened her mouth, stammering for a long moment.
"The priority is... based on the patient's..."
She couldn't make anything up. She turned to Daryl beside her.
"Captain Delgado, did I say something wrong and offend Director Simmons? Director Simmons has a real problem with me."
She sniffled.
"I'm just an intern with limited experience. The captain encouraged me to share this protocol..."
Daryl's face darkened at that.
He strode over and pushed Imogen behind him.
He pointed at me down in the seats and scolded me loudly.
"Clementine Simmons, you throw your weight around in the department, fine. But look at where we are today!"
"Imogen just started clinical work. You ask a question this vicious to deliberately corner her. Is that fun for you?"
I looked at him coldly. "The protocol says it clearly. She's the presenter. She got up there to claim the credit, and she can't even explain what she supposedly wrote?"
"This is just you being jealous of a newcomer!"
Daryl slammed his hand down on the podium in front of him.
"Clementine Simmons, you're the head of emergency, and you're narrow-minded, without an ounce of generosity."
"You sit all day in your bright office in the back, in the air conditioning, playing mouthpiece over a radio."
"If it hadn't been for Imogen risking her life to work alongside me yesterday, could we have saved that many people?"
"What gives you the right to stand here and interrogate someone who was out there risking her life on the front line?"
I looked at this man I had loved for five years.
Every time there was a rescue operation, I went out with the team, worked my eyes raw on scheduling and logistics, and took in every single casualty they brought back.
I provided their support, held their beds, made sure his people got the fastest possible treatment.
What he'd done today didn't just rob me of my life's work. It denied everything I'd given as a doctor.
The doctors and officials below began whispering among themselves.
Hiding behind Daryl, Imogen wiped at her tears while stealing looks at me, her eyes taunting.
Daryl was watching me too, waiting for me to lower my head and sit back down.
I didn't fall apart. I only met his eyes coldly.
