A Race Against Time
Dr. Sarah Chen hurried through the sliding doors at Denver International Airport, clutching her medical bag in one hand and holding her phone tight to her ear.
“Sarah, you need to get here as fast as you can,” Dr. Martinez urged from Santa Barbara General Hospital.
“It’s a twelve-year-old girl. She’s crashing. Her family requested you by name.
They’ve read all your work. Without your surgery… we might lose her tonight.”
Sarah’s chest tightened. She had spent her career perfecting a technique to repair rare heart defects like this one.
This was exactly why she had sacrificed dinners, holidays, even relationships—because when a child’s life hung by a thread, she wanted to be the one holding the scissors steady.
She rushed toward the counter, thinking only of the girl waiting in a hospital bed miles away. If she caught the 4:30 flight, she’d be in the OR before 8 p.m. Just in time.
But fate had other plans.
Her bag snagged on the rope barrier, her purse spilled open, and everything scattered across the floor.
On her knees, scrambling for her stethoscope, she heard a man’s voice at the counter:
“Two tickets to Santa Barbara, first available flight.”
Sarah shot up her hand. “Wait—I was next!”
The man—tall, polished, expensive suit, expensive watch—slid his credit card forward as if she didn’t exist. His name, Michael, glimmered in silver letters.
The agent hesitated.
“Sir, the doctor was ahead of you.”
“I only need one seat,” Sarah pleaded, standing now with her belongings clutched against her. “It’s a medical emergency. A child’s life is at risk.”
Michael finally turned, his eyes cool, unreadable.
“Unfortunate. But my plans matter too.”
His companion, Dana, touched his arm gently. “Michael, maybe we should let her—”
“No,” he cut her off.
“We’re not changing our trip.”
Moments later, the agent handed Michael two boarding passes. Sarah was left staring at the empty screen, her heart sinking as the chance to save her patient slipped away.
By 6:30 p.m., the call came.
“Sarah… we lost her.”
The Flight He Wanted
Michael walked through the terminal, triumphant. Dana, beside him, looked shaken.
“Michael, that doctor said a child—”
“Not my responsibility,” he said sharply.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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