I nodded, checking his vitals and beginning the examination, keeping my emotions in check. Though old memories stirred in the back of my mind, I reminded myself of the present. I had always imagined a day when I might face my past and find closure—I just never expected it to happen in this way.
As I wrapped his wrist, he let out a quiet chuckle. “I guess life has a sense of humor. You taking care of me after all that.”
For the first time, I saw Robby not as the person from my past, but as someone simply seeking help. Then, unexpectedly, he said something that made me pause mid-wrap.
“Listen…” he began, shifting uncomfortably. “I want to say I’m sorry. For everything I did back then.”
I blinked, momentarily taken aback. An apology—from the person who had once made school difficult for me. I took a breath, keeping my composure as I secured the bandage.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he continued. “I know I wasn’t kind, and I can’t change that. But I’ve thought about it, especially when I heard you became a nurse.”
He offered a small smile. “I figured if anyone was going to do something meaningful, it would be you.”
His words carried weight, stirring emotions I wasn’t sure how to process. Part of me wanted to recall every difficult memory—the times I felt small, the moments I wished I could disappear—but another part of me, the one strengthened through years of hard work and perseverance, reminded me that I had moved forward.
After a pause, I finally said, “I appreciate your apology.”
A quiet understanding settled between us. I could sense he wanted a deeper conversation, perhaps even forgiveness, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. Not yet.
He winced suddenly, shifting his wrist. “Is it supposed to hurt this much?”
I frowned slightly, performing a quick check. His X-rays were still pending, but something about his reaction made me suspect it was more than a simple sprain.
“We’ll know more once the doctor reviews your scans,” I said gently. “Try to keep it still.”
I stepped away, gathering my thoughts as I moved back to the nurses’ station. The memories of school—of difficult days and self-doubt—lingered, but they no longer held the same weight. I wasn’t that person anymore. I had found strength in who I had become.
When the results came back confirming a fracture, I returned to his room. Calmly, I explained the next steps and prepared his arm for a cast. As I worked, he looked up at me and said, “I know I can’t undo the past, but I hope that one day you’ll know I truly regret it.”
I met his eyes, sensing sincerity in his words. Instead of dwelling on the past, I finished securing the cast and simply said, “Take care of that wrist.”
As I turned to leave, I felt something shift within me. I had faced a piece of my past, but I had done so on my own terms. Moving forward wasn’t about forgetting or even forgiving—it was about standing strong in who I was today.
And that, I realized, was a victory in itself.