Hotheads

Realising that she was still wearing the hospital gown, Callie blushed even more, feeling a bit self-conscious. ‘I’ll get changed,’ she said, reaching for the blanket to cover herself. Elias shook his head. ‘No need to change. Someone is bringing breakfast.’ ‘Who?’ Before Elias could answer, a soft knock came on the door. ‘Come in,’ he called out. Lemuel entered the ward, carefully balancing a tray filled with a sumptuous breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, warm croissants, and a colourful assortment of fruits wafted through the room. He set the tray down on a bedside table and, looking apologetic, said to Callie, ‘Callie, I mean, Doctor Hawthorne, I’m sorry.’ The contrite tone in Lemuel’s voice puzzled Callie, and she turned her attention to him, her eyes searching his face for clues. He continued, ‘I shouldn’t have lashed out at you, taken out my frustration on you. I was wrong, and I hope you could forgive me.’ Callie saw genuine remorse in his eyes and responded softly,