I\u2019ve been a nurse for six years now. Long shifts, aching feet, barely enough time to eat\u2014but I love it. It\u2019s the one place where I feel like I truly matter. Nobody cares what I look like, just that I do my job well.<\/p>\n
But today? Today threw me back to a time I\u2019d rather forget.<\/p>\n
I walked into the ER room with my chart, barely glancing at the name. \u201cAlright, let\u2019s see what we got\u2014\u201d Then I looked up.<\/p>\n
Robby Langston.<\/p>\n
He was sitting on the bed, wincing as he held his wrist, but when he saw me, his eyes went wide. For a second, I thought maybe he didn\u2019t recognize me. But then he did a quick, awkward glance at my face\u2014at my nose\u2014and I knew.<\/p>\n
Middle school, high school\u2026 he made my life hell. \u201cBig Becca,\u201d \u201cToucan Sam,\u201d all the creative ways to make a girl hate her own reflection. I spent years wishing I could shrink, disappear, be anyone else. But here I was, standing in scrubs, holding his chart, and he was the one needing me.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecca?\u201d His voice was hesitant, almost nervous. \u201cWow, uh\u2026 it\u2019s been a while.\u201d<\/p>\n
I kept my face neutral. \u201cWhat happened to your wrist?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBasketball injury,\u201d he muttered. \u201cJust a sprain, I think.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded, checking his vitals, doing my job like I would with anyone else. But inside, I was battling old ghosts. I had imagined a moment like this before\u2014facing my past, getting some kind of closure. Maybe even some kind of justice.<\/p>\n
Then, as I wrapped his wrist, he let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh. \u201cGuess karma\u2019s funny, huh? You taking care of me after all that.\u201d<\/p>\n
I met his eyes. For once, he wasn\u2019t the cocky guy from school. Just another patient, just another human.<\/p>\n
And then he said something that made my hands pause.<\/p>\n
\u201cListen\u2026\u201d Robby swallowed hard, shifting on the bed. \u201cI want to say I\u2019m sorry. For everything I did back then.\u201d<\/p>\n
I blinked, taken aback. An apology? From the guy who made me dread going to class, who gave me nicknames I still remember in my worst moments? I forced myself to keep my professional composure, setting aside the gauze and grabbing a wrist brace from the supply cart.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t have to say anything,\u201d he continued, voice quieter now. \u201cI know I was a jerk, and I can\u2019t fix it. But I\u2019ve thought about it a lot. Especially when I found out you became a nurse.\u201d<\/p>\n
He gave a weak chuckle. \u201cI figured if anyone deserved to do something meaningful, it was you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I focused on Velcro straps and making sure the brace fit correctly. Part of me wanted to tell him exactly how much he hurt me\u2014how I spent weekends hiding in my room, how I tried every ridiculous remedy to \u2018shrink\u2019 my nose, how I once begged my mom for surgery I didn\u2019t need. But another part of me, the nurse part of me, the older, maybe wiser part of me, reminded me that I was here to help. Even if it was him.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I\u2019ve been a nurse for six years now. Long shifts, aching feet, barely enough time to eat\u2014but I love it. It\u2019s the one place where I feel… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":33480,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-33479","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n