Chapter 4

Once the rescue operation was over, I went back to the hospital to process my resignation.

Julian didn't come looking for me again.

He probably still thought I was waiting for him to apologize, and that the business with my father was just an argument I'd started to force him to come home.

After handing the last of my paperwork to HR, I went to the records room to collect my personal files.

At the very bottom of a drawer lay an old photo.

In it, Julian had just finished his first solo surgery. He looked exhausted, but he was smiling at the camera, genuinely happy.

Back then, he had handed me the operative report and spoken very seriously.

"Sienna, once I make Chief, you'll go back to being lead surgeon. I won't let your talent go to waste."

I had believed him.

But tucked into the resignation packet HR gave me was that recommendation for a long-term administrative position. Julian had filled it out for me years ago.

He hadn't even asked me.

I tore the copy in half and dropped it in the trash.

That afternoon, I went to the old house my father had left behind to pick up the rest of his papers.

White funeral drapes hung in the yard, and ash still lay by the door where offerings had been burned.

A funeral home employee was going over the charges for the memorial portrait and the urn, while a property appraiser stood by the door examining the notarized documents.

When I took my father's portrait, my wrists trembled a little.

In life, my father had thought highly of Julian.

He always said, "Julian doesn't say much, but he's steady. I can trust him with my daughter."

In his last few days, my father was rarely lucid, but he still asked when Julian would get there.

All I could do was lie and tell him traffic was bad.

It was a lie, and I still haven't dared to admit it.

A car pulled up outside.

Julian walked into the yard carrying a tin of tea and some health supplements. He hadn't even taken off his white coat.

When he saw the white drapes in the yard, he stopped.

"Where's Sienna?"

The funeral home employee looked him over.

"You're looking for Ms. Hayes?"

"Her father lives here. He's seriously ill. I came to visit him."

The employee looked down and flipped through the files.

"Professor Richard Hayes passed away early last Sunday morning. He was cremated the same day. Are you family?"

The gift box slipped from Julian's hands, and the tea tumbled into the muddy water.

"What did you say?"

The employee frowned.

"The death certificate and the cremation certificate are right here. If you're family, go sign in."

Julian rushed over and snatched the documents, his finger pressing on the time of death.

Last Sunday, 4:40 a.m.

The third call I made to him that night came just before my father took his last breath.

He'd been at the pet store with Nina, waiting for her cat to be examined. Annoyed that his phone kept buzzing, he declined the call and switched it to silent.

Standing behind the door, I watched him turn the pages of the certificates one by one.

His lips moved several times, but no words came out.

I didn't go out.

When he finally looked up, he saw me.

"Sienna..."

Holding my father's portrait, I took a step back.

He walked toward me.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did tell you."

"When?"

"When you were at the pet store."

He stopped.

Looking at his pale face, I found my voice steadier than I'd expected.

"Before you hung up, you said not to let an old man's illness get in the way of Nina picking out a cat."

The papers fell to the ground.

"I didn't know..."

"You knew."

I cut him off.

"You just figured he could wait."

He reached for me, and I stepped away.

"Julian, the wedding's off, and my father has been laid to rest. Nothing you say now makes any difference."

"Sienna, I can make it up to you."

I looked at the supplements he'd brought. It was absurd.

He showed up with a late gift and expected me to act like none of it had happened.

"You can't make up for this."

Julian's eyes were red.

"Then what do you want me to do?"

"Stay away from me."

Holding the portrait, I turned and went inside.

As the door closed between us, I heard him say quietly:

"Can't you give me one more chance?"

I stopped behind the door, my fingers pressed against the frame.

In the portrait, my father gazed quietly ahead.

I answered softly:

"I gave you so many chances. When did you ever care?"