Heartstrings on Fire (Agnes and Jared)

Lately, Agnes had been cooped up in the sterile confines of the Thomas Group Hospital.

Ramona and Ben had returned to Willowbrook Town. They'd been sifting through the rubble of information, sending out snippets to the local news stations.

Their coverage of the earthquake had struck a nerve, resonating deeply with viewers far and wide. The raw footage and documentaries they released had moved hearts, stirring the nation into action.

A tide of volunteers from across the country had descended upon the small community of Bronzetown Borough. Spontaneous fundraisers popped up like daisies in spring, and the TV stations had dedicated a special segment to the ongoing situation in the quake-stricken borough.

Charitable organizations, too, had shifted into high gear, providing aid to the injured and the orphans left in the disaster's wake. Despite all this, Agnes couldn't shake her concern for Yara.

Ben had called to tell her that Yara was now in the care of a local foster home, and once the dust settled, they'd find a loving family to adopt her.

"Agnes, you gotta look after yourself," Ben had said, his voice a blend of concern and firmness. "You've been through the wringer, what with that concussion and all. Mr. Judson sent me to tell you to take a break-two weeks off, no work talk, just rest up, okay?"

Agnes was exhausted.

Her body and mind were teetering on the brink, and she spent what seemed like an eternity just sleeping it off.

Ryder had come out of surgery. Agnes had checked in with the chief surgeon, who'd painted a grim picture.

Ryder had been lucky not to lose his arm, given the severity of his injuries and the poor ideal rescue conditions. But with a medical brace now a permanent fixture in his arm, he could never perform surgeries again.

Hearing this confirmation hit Agnes hard. She'd braced for it, sure, but the reality still stung. Ryder's life's work, his passion for medicine-it was all but dashed.

For a surgeon, being told you can't operate is akin to a life sentence without parole for his career. Ryder's path had taken a permanent detour, and Agnes felt an icy chill at the thought. It was a debt she owed Ryder, one she could never repay.

When Agnes went to visit Ryder in his hospital room, he was awake, his arm swathed in a thick cast, immobilized.

She couldn't stand the sight of his bruised and battered limb, but as she stepped closer, Ryder was the one to break the ice, "Agnes, how are you feeling? Is your head still throbbing?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

The lump in her throat grew. "I'm fine now, but you..."

Ryder, as though reading her mind, cut in with a reassuring tone. "My hand will be fine, Agnes. Don't you worry about me."

"But you'll never hold a scalpel again," she blurted out, the guilt gnawing at her insides.

Ryder's casual shrug couldn't mask the weight of his words. "Agnes, I'm not a doctor anymore. Leaving the Novy Medical Team was a choice I made after a lot of thought. Once I stepped out, I didn't plan on looking back. There are many paths in life, and since I've chosen a different one, I can't turn back now. So whether or not I can wield a scalpel-it doesn't matter anymore."

Agnes wasn't sure if Ryder was just trying to ease her guilt or if he truly believed his own words. But she hoped, for both their sakes, that he'd find a new dream to chase in the wake of the life he'd left behind.