I’ve been a nurse for six years. Long shifts, aching feet—but I love it. It’s where I feel

I truly matter. But today brought back memories I’d rather forget. I walked into the ER,

chart in hand. Then I looked up, His eyes widened when he saw me. A quick glance at my

nose—he remembered. In school, he made my life miserable: “Big Becca,” “Toucan Sam.”

But now, he was the one needing help. “Becca? Wow… it’s been a while. ”What happened to your wrist?”

I asked, keeping my voice neutral. “Basketball injury. Just a sprain, I think.

”I stayed professional, though memories lingered. As I wrapped his wrist, he laughed softly.

“Karma’s funny, huh? You taking care of me after all that. ”Then, quietly: “I’m sorry.

For everything. ”An apology—from him? Part of me wanted to revisit the pain, but the

nurse in me kept focused. “Well,” I said, “I appreciate that. ”X-rays confirmed a fracture.

As I fitted his cast, he said, “I hope one day you’ll believe I’m really sorry.

”I met his gaze. “Take care of that wrist. ”And with that, I walked away, knowing I’d already won—on my own terms