Arriving at the hospital, Abigail handed the wounded man over to her colleagues in the emergency room and hurried to the surgery department. Dr. Colbert still had not answered her message. That was not unusual — a surgeon was always busy with operations, patients, and paperwork. Abigail knew that perfectly well by now.

  Her legs habitually carried her toward the room where Charlie was lying. But this time she changed course and headed straight for the doctor’s office.

  “Here we are,” she said, barely crossing the threshold.

  She pulled the card from her pocket and placed it on the table in front of the surgeon.

  The doctor took it and began to examine it as though she had handed him not a plastic card but a mysterious piece of parchment covered in ancient writing.

  “The money for Charlie’s surgery,” she explained.

  Hadn’t he received her message yet?

  Finally, Dr. Colbert looked up at her and frowned.

  “What happened to you?”

  Abigail followed his gaze and only then noticed that the clothes visible beneath her unbuttoned medical coat were stained with blood.

  “Oh, it’s not my blood,” she said. “I brought in a wounded man.”

  “Are you on duty today?” the doctor asked, slightly surprised.

  She bit her lip for a moment. It was an unpleasant reminder that she no longer worked in surgery. Her ex, Chuck, had taken her place two weeks ago. And the hospital had offered her nothing else except the emergency room. She supposed she should be grateful for that, too. If she were no longer an intern here, they might have kicked her out altogether.

  “A doctor is always on duty,” Abigail forced a smile.

  Dr. Colbert nodded approvingly.

  “One day you will make a great doctor,” he said rather bitterly.

  She had nothing to blame Dr. Colbert for. He was her supervisor, and as far as she knew, he had done everything he could to keep her place in surgery. But he had had to back down: Chuck’s influence had grown greatly when he started dating the daughter of a member of the hospital’s board of trustees.

  For Chuck, love was always just a doormat that he had to step on to get through the right doors.

  Love…

  Abigail smiled bitterly. The only man who really loved her was Charlie.

  “So when is Charlie’s surgery?”

  The doctor looked at the plastic card he was still twirling in his fingers. Then he sighed and, unexpectedly, handed the card to Abigail.

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  “No longer necessary, girl,” he said dully. “Charlie died. Two hours ago. I tried to contact you, but your phone was out of service.”

  She did not move. The doctor got up from the table, walked over to her, and thrust the card into her hands. She took it with stiff fingers and stared at it as if she were seeing it for the first time. Then she looked up at the doctor. She felt confused more than heartbroken. She tried to say something — that this couldn’t be, that everything had to be fine, because she had done everything she had to do. She had got the money. She had done the impossible. Even illegal things. And now it couldn’t end this way. It just couldn’t. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Not only to Charlie, who was supposed to be fine, but to her, too.

  She wanted to throw all this at Dr. Colbert, even if it was not his fault. But she couldn’t say a word — all the air had suddenly gone out of her lungs.

  Dr Colbert patted her on the shoulder.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded.

  “Sure?”

  She nodded again.

  The card was still in her hands. Such a useless piece of plastic… But she couldn’t take her eyes off it.

  “Never make a deal with the devil — he will deceive you anyway,” her mother had always told her. She had never listened. She had always believed her mum, who had no belief in devils; talking about the devil had actually meant Charlie, whom she couldn’t stand. But now she was forced to agree with her mother:

  whether the devil existed or not, he had deceived her.

  “Will you inform the family, or do you want me to…?” Dr. Colbert asked.

  “Better you,” Abigail choked out.

  It was part of their job to bring tragic news to families. But she briefly imagined the jubilant faces of Mrs. and Miss Warren and realized that she might not be able to restrain herself from slapping them.

  Dr. Colbert nodded. He patted her arm once more and went out, leaving Abigail alone in his office.

  Abigail sat down on a chair. She was surprised that she felt nothing. It was empty, echoing, and sterile inside, like in an autopsy room during a shift change. She was grateful to Dr. Colbert for not trying to console her. It wouldn’t be… inappropriate. An autopsy room is not the right place for condolences. And a doctor is not the right person for this. Dr. Colbert was, she believed, genuinely upset by Charlie's death — the death of a patient is always a defeat for a doctor. But a doctor cannot die with every patient he loses. A doctor's condolences only highlight how alone you are in your loss.

  Abigail had been caring for Charlie since his first day in the hospital, though Charlie was not her patient. He was not even her relative.

  She never knew exactly who he was to her.

  She used to call him godfather, but somehow she knew he was not. She was hardly baptized because her mother believed that even if God exists, he is too busy looking after rich people, while they were not rich and therefore of no interest to God. But more importantly, Abigail’s mum would never have accepted Charlie. As a child, Abigail believed it was because Charlie was rich — her mum hated rich people. But when she grew a little older, she realized that it wasn’t that.

  “Why is my mum always angry with you?” she asked Charlie.

  “It’s a secret,” he always answered. “I can’t tell you.”

  “I love secrets. Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Because this secret is too heavy for such a little girl.”

  “How heavy?”

  “As heavy… as the sky.”

  Abigail laughed. Charlie always joked with a serious face to confuse her.

  “The sky is light,” she told him reproachfully, as if she had caught him in a trick. “So light I can’t feel its weight!”

  Charlie bowed slightly, as if accepting the reproach.

  “The lightest thing in the world, uh?” Then his tone became serious. “Until one day, the one who holds it for you leaves. Or falls.”

  He never lied to her. Now, when Charlie was gone, Abigail did feel how heavy the sky really was. And now she finally understood who Charlie really was for her: the man who held the sky.

  She bit her lip, realizing that what she felt now was not sorrow for Charlie alone, but pity for herself.

  “Charlie, why did you do it to me? Why did you leave me?” she whispered.

  And then tears finally came.