City A hadn't changed at all.
Still loud. Still busy. Still buzzing with the kind of energy that never slept. People moved in steady streams across the wide roads, horns blared in the distance, and blinking traffic lights controlled a chaos that somehow made sense to those who lived here.
Debby stood quietly across the street, her gaze lifted to the towering hospital ahead of her. Imperial Central Medical Hospital—the largest and most prestigious medical center in City A. The place she once belonged to. The place that had once belonged to her.
Snow fell slowly, drifting in soft spirals through the cold air. The flakes landed on her shoulders, on her long lashes, on the fabric of her coat, melting into tiny droplets. Her blonde hair swayed gently with the wind, strands brushing across her face. The hem of her coat fluttered behind her, caught in the soft push of the breeze.
She didn't move.
She just stared.
The tall glass building reflected the cloudy sky above, as proud and unshaken as ever. People came and went through the sliding doors—nurses, patients, doctors in white coats. To them, she was just another figure on the sidewalk.
But she wasn't.
She had once walked those halls. Held lives in her hands. Stood at the top of operating rooms and was called a genius in scrubs. She had lived through blood, sweat, exhaustion, and the thrill of saving lives. The hospital didn't know it yet—but its top surgeon had returned.
Three weeks.
It had only been three weeks since she last walked through those halls. Two weeks since she left under circumstances most people didn't understand, though many claimed to. Whispers, accusations, sideways glances—none of it had ever been confirmed. But that didn't stop the speculation.
Now… she was back.
And everything—every brick, every window, every sound of distant sirens—felt exactly the same.
Except her.
She walked in.
The warmth of the hospital surrounded her immediately—the sterile scent of antiseptic, soft rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, the murmur of conversations, and the familiar beeping of machines from the wings.
People moved with purpose, but slowly, eyes began to turn.
One nurse froze mid-step. Another stopped pushing her medicine cart.
Shock flickered in their eyes.
Whispers began—quiet, but not quiet enough.
Some stared in silence as they passed her, unable to mask the disbelief on their faces. Debby didn't flinch. Her steps didn't slow.
Let them look.
She walked straight ahead, chin slightly raised, gaze steady.
She had no explanations to give.
She approached the elevator and pressed the button, her reflection caught faintly in the steel doors. Behind her, a few more heads turned. No one dared speak to her.
Then—arms wrapped around her from behind.
Warm. Tight. Familiar.
The voice that followed was light and cheerful.
"Debby! I knew you'd come back!"
Debby turned slowly, the corners of her lips softening just slightly.
Veronica.
Still wearing her oversized nurse's coat, glasses slightly crooked, and hair pinned into a messy bun like always. She hadn't changed. The same round cheeks, the same soft brown eyes brimming with joy, the same plump frame that people often mocked behind her back.
She had always looked older than her age—only in her mid-twenties, but constantly mistaken for someone much older. People had laughed. Gossiped. But Debby never did.
Veronica clung to her like a long-lost sister, practically bouncing on her feet with excitement.
"I missed you so much!" she said, finally pulling back to look up at her. "You're glowing, Debby. You look—God—you look like a movie star walking through snow!"
Debby blinked, then let out a quiet breath. "You haven't changed."
Veronica grinned. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
The elevator chimed open again, and both women stepped inside.
"Are you going to your office or the surgical board first?" Veronica asked, still glowing with happiness.
"I'm going to the manager's office," Debby replied.
The elevator began to move.
It stopped at the third floor, the doors sliding open with a soft ding.
This floor was more flooded with people than the first. Doctors, nurses, interns, and staff walked briskly in every direction, voices overlapping and machines beeping faintly from nearby rooms.
And then—she saw her.
Jessica.
Average height, with a face so obviously touched by surgery that it was hard to ignore.
She and Debby had once been inseparable. They grew up in the same village in City A, catching crabs by the river, dreaming big dreams under starlit skies. They studied together, pushed each other, and eventually made it into a public university through scholarship.
If anyone had told her back then that Jessica—her best friend—would betray her, Debby would've burned them alive.
She never knew Jessica was having an affair with Luke. She never imagined that while she was building a future, Jessica was sleeping with the man she loved—and had even gotten pregnant for him. Twice.
Two abortions.
When Debby found out and confronted them both, she thought she'd get closure. Instead, it was the beginning of her ruin.
Two days later, she and Jessica were scheduled to operate on a young girl with appendicitis. The surgery went well. Afterward, Debby chose to stay by the girl's side—her family hadn't arrived yet, and she didn't want the child waking up alone.
Hours passed, and Debby stepped away briefly to grab something to eat.
Then it happened.
The child's mother burst into the hospital cafeteria, screaming. She slapped Debby in front of everyone. Beat her. Cursed her.
"You killed my daughter!"
Others rushed to break them apart, holding the woman back.
And then Debby heard it:
The little girl was dead.
The hospital staff looked at her differently. Doubt spread faster than fire. And though she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, no one wanted to listen.
She was arrested that same day.
The case never went to court. They didn't charge her with murder, but her license was revoked. She was forced to pay for the child's funeral and "support" the family—terms she never agreed to, for something she didn't do.
Through it all, she hoped Luke would show up. Call her. Ask what happened. But he never did.
Instead, Jessica made everything worse—mocking her, calling her a murderer, even throwing her belongings out of her office in front of staff.
It was humiliation beyond what she could bear.
Still, Debby wanted to prove her innocence. She knew she was innocent.
But with no money, no license, and nowhere to go, she returned to the village.
And then the final blow hit her.
She was pregnant.
Pregnant with Luke's child.
With her father sick and no money for treatment, she felt the entire world crumbling around her.
Until Alexander came.