The morning started like most others—early, cold, and filled with caffeine. I was halfway through rounds at UCLA Medical Hospital when my phone buzzed with a message from Sophie.
Sophie: "Big news. Call me ASAP. Not tragic. Not wedding. Just… important."
I slipped into the supply room between cases, heart slightly racing, and dialed.
"Okay," I whispered. "What's the non-tragic, non-wedding, but somehow important news?"
"You remember that pitch I submitted for the medical research incubator? The one I didn't think I'd get because I sent it in five minutes before the deadline?"
"Yes…"
"I got in. Charlotte—I GOT IN!"
I let out a gasp so loud a nurse peeked through the door.
"Wait, Sophie… that's incredible!"
"I know! But that's not all—it's a collaborative program, which means I'll be flying back and forth between New York and L.A. for the next few months."
The words took a second to settle in.
Back and forth.
Not goodbye.
Not yet.
A surprising swell of joy rose in me. Not just because I'd get to see my best friend more often—but because she was doing something big. Something bold.
"You're going to kill it," I said.
"Just like you're killing it there, Doctor Almost."
After the call, I floated through the rest of my shift like a helium balloon. Things were moving. Growing. Becoming.
Later that day, James met me in the small courtyard outside the hospital with two paper cups of coffee in hand.
"Peace offering," he said. "For nearly snapping at you during our last late-night study session."
"You were grumpy," I teased, taking the cup.
"You try diagnosing case studies while sleep-deprived and emotionally drained."
I raised my brow. "Oh, so your charm has limits?"
He smiled. "You're the only one who ever dares to say that."
We sat in silence for a while, watching the golden light scatter through the leaves above us.
Then James spoke, quietly. "I've been thinking about what you said the other night. About feeling like a ghost of who you used to be."
I turned to him.
"I think… we all have versions of ourselves we outgrow. But the people we become? They're built on the bones of those ghosts."
I let his words wash over me.
"Do you think we'll still be friends in ten years?" I asked. "When Sophie's running medical research in New York, and you're off saving the world, and I'm—who knows where."
"I think," James said, setting his coffee down, "you'll be unforgettable, no matter where you go. And I'll be there. Even if I have to follow your trail of success stories."
I looked at him—really looked at him—and for the first time in a while, I didn't feel nervous or awkward or even uncertain.
I just felt… grateful.
Later that evening, I sat by my window, staring at the picture James had given me—our trio frozen in a memory.
A knock came at the door. This time, Sophie didn't wait. She barged in with a huge grin and three pints of ice cream.
"Emergency celebration," she announced. "Because I can't keep my joy to myself."
We sat on the floor in pajamas, devouring spoonfuls between bursts of laughter.
"I feel like everything's changing," I said.
"It is," Sophie replied. "But for once, it's changing in our favor."
We clinked our spoons together like champagne glasses.
To friendship.
To love.
To becoming unforgettable.