The hospital corridor was bathed in the blinding glare of a lateafternoon sun. Ethel squinted for an instant, and when she opened her eyes her heart seemed to stop, then race like a startled horse.
There he was, walking toward herher husband, the very man whose smile she could picture down to the tiniest crinkle at the corners of his eyes. Yet it could not be; three long years had passed since hed left this earth.
Just my imagination playing tricks, she thought, clenching the strap of her bag as if to pull herself back into reality.
The man drew nearer, unmistakably resembling her late spouse in height, gait, and features, though his stare was steadier, more restrained. He fixed his gaze on her, unflinching, as if he too had glimpsed a phantom.
A warm blush spread across Ethels cheeks. Lowering her eyes shyly, she slipped past him into the ward where her Aunt Maud lay recovering; Maud had no one but Ethel, and after the operation she required constant care.
Their next encounter occurred in the dressing room. Ethel was pushing an empty trolley when she saw him, a white coat draped over his shoulders, murmuring quietly to a nurse. The squeak of the wheels caught his attention; he lifted his head and froze, his eyes as direct and inquisitive as the day before.
Dr. Turner, the nurse called brightly, breaking the uneasy silence. Is that everything?
Yes, thank you, he replied with a nod, though his eyes lingered on Ethel.
Flushed with embarrassment, she hurried away with the trolley, feeling as foolish as a schoolgirl.
Days in the hospital passed slowly. Their glances met in the corridors again and again. Each time Ethel saw him, a childlike joy rose in her chest. Dr. Turner would sometimes visit Aunt Mauds roomalways courteous, always professionalbut his gaze inevitably lingered on Ethel a heartbeat longer than necessary.
One evening, when her son Tommy was due to start his night shift, Ethel stepped into the lobby for a drink of water. By the window stood Dr. Turner, watching the city darken.
Your son, I presume? he asked softly, turning. The young fellow who looks after Mrs. Pritchard?
Yes, Ethel answered, surprised that he knew her aunts name. Tommy. Hes a bit of a rogue, but a golden onecaring as ever.
He smiled, a smile that felt achingly familiar.
He loves you very much. You can see it.
A tremor rose in Ethels chest, a feeling she had long forgotten. The body ages, but the sensations remain fresh and sharp, like in youth.
Its true, she murmured, blushing. Just dont tell him Im saying that, hed get cocky.
He laughed, the sound warm and alive.
My name is Alex Turner, he said.
Ethel, she replied.
At that moment Tommy burst into the lobby, brandishing a bag of scones.
Mum, hi! Doctor! Ive brought you a treat, as promisedsorry about the cabbage, its all we had left.
Alex took a scone gratefully, and Ethel caught Tommys quick, assessing glance.
The next day the nurses chattered that Dr. Turner had fallen ill and was on sick leave. Something dropped in Ethels heart. So it wasnt meant to be, she thought with a bittersweet resignation. Perhaps its for the bestno awkward goodbyes, no haunting whatifs. Only pleasant memories. Yet those memories were many; she realized grief was not endless, and the future might hold brighter days.
Aunt Maud was discharged three days later. As Ethel packed her things, she tried not to dwell on the emptiness that awaited beyond the hospital walls. She was saying farewell not only to the place but also to the phantom possibility that never materialised.
Tommy, loading the car, suddenly remarked, You know, Dr. Turners a widower. His wife died in a crash three years ago.
Ethel froze, as if nailed to the spot. Three years. Coincidence? Fate?
How do you know? she asked quietly.
We chatted while he was having the scones, Tommy shrugged. He asked about my dad, very politely. You could tell he was alone. And the way he looks at you not like a doctor.
Silently, Ethel slipped into the passenger seat, hope stirring again in her heart.
At home, quiet enveloped her. She brewed a pot of tea and settled by the window, watching the familiar garden. Then her eyes fell on an envelope on the tableshe didnt recall placing it there. Tommy, perhaps.
Inside lay a card depicting an old infirmary, strikingly similar to the one they had just left. With trembling fingers, Ethel opened it.
Ethel,
I realise this may sound mad, and Im truly sorry I fell ill and could not say goodbye properly. Yet I cannot let you simply vanish from my thoughts. Three years ago I lost my love. When I saw you in the corridor, it felt as if the sun rose a second time in one day.
I am not your husband. I am another man, with my own pain and story. But perhaps our stories could share a future?
If this does not appear utterly absurd, I will be at the Edge café opposite the park tomorrow at five oclock.
With hope, Alex
Tears sprang from Ethels eyestears of joy. She was not alone in that strange feeling; he felt it too, and he had the courage to act on something she had barely dared to dream.
The next day, half past four, she stood before a mirror, nervously smoothing her dress.
Mom, you look lovely! Tommy shouted from the kitchen. Just dont overquestion the past, alright? The future is what matters.
She smiled.
The Edge café was cosy, the air scented with fresh pastries. Alex was already there, seated by the window, his brow furrowed as he studied the menu. When he saw her enter, he rose, and that familiar yet new smile blossomed on his face.
I feared you might not come, he said, pulling out a chair.
I feared you would regret the letter, Ethel admitted, sitting down.
Not a moment of it, Alex shook his head, his eyes earnest. You know, the first time I saw you it was like a miracle, a reminder that life does not end.
I felt the same, Ethel whispered. It was as if a warm wind from the past brushed my cheek, yet it was not the pastsomething fresh.
He reached across the table, and she took his hand. His palm was warm.
Lets try, Ethel, he said. No rush. Just lets try to be happy.
She met his gazethe eyes of a man who had walked through the same valleys of sorrow yet never abandoned hopeand nodded. For the first time in three long years she felt not grief for what was lost, but a bright, trembling anticipation of what lay ahead. It was her happy ending, which in truth was merely the beginning of a new story.
