Gold Digger vs Gold Saver My Man's Double Life novel Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

“Your mother has been going on and on at the grocery store, telling everyone about you.” I could almost picture the grin on his face as he spoke. “We’re really proud of you, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I replied, warmth spreading through me at his words.

There was a brief pause, a moment filled with unspoken thoughts, before he continued, “Are you holding up alright? With everything that’s been going on?”

“Yeah.” I meant it wholeheartedly. “Actually, I’m doing great.”

“Good. That’s—well, that’s really good to hear.” He cleared his throat, the sound echoing slightly through the phone. “So, um, Mrs. Williams from church was chatting with me. She mentioned her nephew, a college professor, and she thinks you two might really hit it off—”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Dad. I’m not ready for that yet.”

“I know, I know,” he responded quickly, a hint of exasperation in his tone. “Your mom insisted I ask. I just want to make sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard, okay? There’s more to life than just the hospital.”

“I promise I’ll let you know when I’m ready,” I assured him, feeling a sense of resolve.

After we ended the call, I lingered on the hospital roof for a little while longer, gazing out at the city as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over everything.

So many lives below me. So many narratives intertwining.

Once upon a time, my life had revolved around Grant.

But that was a story I had closed.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed to life with a message.

Sophie:

[Attending physician?! That’s my girl. Drinks at S. We need to celebrate properly.]

A smile broke across my face. [See you there.]

As I made my way back down, a resident stepped into the elevator alongside me. He was fresh-faced, probably not more than twenty-six, with an eager expression.

“Dr. Bennett,” he said, nodding with a mix of respect and confidence.

“How’s your first week going?” I inquired, genuinely curious.

“Brutal. But good,” he replied, a hint of exhaustion in his voice.

“It gets easier,” I reassured him, remembering my own struggles.

The elevator doors slid open, and I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the polished surface—calm, centered, and undeniably confident.

I had made it through the storm.

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