I’ve been a nurse for six years. The ER is chaotic, exhausting, but fulfilling. No one cares about my looks—only my skills. But today, my past came crashing back.
Robby Langston. The guy who bullied me in high school was now my patient, holding his injured wrist. When he recognized me, his voice was hesitant. “Becca? Wow, uh… it’s been a while.”
I stayed professional, checking his vitals. Memories of cruel nicknames resurfaced, but then he surprised me. “Guess karma’s funny, huh? You taking care of me after all that.”
As I wrapped his wrist, he swallowed hard. “Listen… I want to say I’m sorry. For everything I did back then.” His words stunned me. He admitted he had thought about it a lot, especially after hearing I became a nurse.
A week later, I found myself volunteering for a youth basketball fundraiser Robby was involved in. I saw a different side of him—coaching kids, giving back. He wasn’t that high school bully anymore. “I don’t expect forgiveness overnight,” he admitted. “But I’m doing what I can to be better.”
