Jo Wilson sat at her desk in the hospital lounge, staring at the open email on her laptop. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she couldn't shake the feeling of nausea that had settled in her stomach the moment she saw the sender's name: Alex Karev. After everything that had happened, after the way he had left her without so much as a proper goodbye, now he had the nerve to reach out. And for what? Closure?
The lyrics from Taylor Swift's "closure" echoed in her mind: "Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. It cut deep to know ya, right to the bone." It had been months since Alex had left her to be with Izzie Stevens, and Jo had spent every day since trying to rebuild her life without him. She was finally starting to feel like herself again, finally finding some sense of peace, but now—this email—was threatening to rip open old wounds.
The email itself was short, almost sterile, as if Alex thought a few lines of explanation could make up for the heartbreak he had caused.
Alex's Email:
Jo,
I hope you're doing well. I've thought a lot about what I did, about the way I left. I'm sorry for the hurt I caused you. I know it's too late to make things right, but I wanted you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, and I hope you're okay.
Alex.
Jo stared at the words, her mind swirling with a mix of anger, sadness, and frustration. He wanted forgiveness? After abandoning her without a word, without giving her any kind of explanation until it was too late? She didn't owe him forgiveness. She didn't owe him anything.
But the truth was, part of her still ached for the love they had once shared. Before everything went wrong, before he had left her for Izzie, they had been good together. She had loved him deeply, and letting go of that love had been the hardest thing she'd ever done.
Now, sitting here with his apology in front of her, Jo felt like she was right back where she started—caught between the love she had lost and the anger that came from being abandoned.
Just then, the door to the lounge creaked open, and Link, her best friend and fellow doctor, walked in. He took one look at her face and raised an eyebrow.
"What's going on, Jo?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.
Jo sighed, running a hand through her hair as she closed the laptop. "Alex emailed me."
Link's eyes widened, and he pulled up a chair beside her. "Seriously? After everything?"
Jo nodded, her jaw clenched. "Yeah. He says he's sorry, that he never meant to hurt me. Like that makes it all better."
Link frowned, his voice cautious. "How do you feel about it?"
Jo let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "How do I feel? I don't even know anymore. I thought I was doing okay, you know? I've been moving on, trying to build a life without him. But now... this. It's like he's trying to get closure for himself without thinking about what it does to me."
Link nodded, his expression understanding. "You don't owe him anything, Jo. Not after what he did."
Jo looked at him, her eyes filling with emotion. "I know. But it's hard to let go of someone you loved that much."
Link reached out, squeezing her hand gently. "You're strong, Jo. You've been through hell, and you came out of it stronger. Don't let him drag you back into that."
Jo nodded, though her heart still felt heavy. "I just... I don't know what to say. Or if I should even respond at all."
Link gave her a soft smile. "You don't have to do anything. It's up to you."
Later that evening, after a long and exhausting day of surgeries, Jo found herself sitting in her apartment, staring at the laptop again. The email from Alex was still there, waiting for her to decide what to do with it. She could delete it, pretend it never existed, and continue moving forward with her life. Or she could respond, give him the closure he seemed to be seeking, and maybe find some for herself in the process.
But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she didn't need closure from Alex. She didn't need him to validate her pain or her healing. She had been doing just fine on her own, and she wasn't about to let him pull her back into the past.
Still, the anger simmered just beneath the surface, and Jo knew she couldn't keep it all bottled up. She needed to say something, if only to get it off her chest.
With a deep breath, Jo opened the email and began typing.
Jo's Email:
Alex,
I got your email. I've thought about how to respond, and honestly, I don't know if anything I say will really matter to you. But I need to say it for me.
What you did hurt me in ways I can't even put into words. You left me. You made a choice, and that choice wasn't me. And now, months later, you reach out asking for forgiveness, like that's something you're entitled to.
I don't owe you forgiveness. I don't owe you anything. I've spent these past months trying to rebuild my life, trying to move on from the pain you caused. And I'm getting there, slowly but surely.
So no, I won't give you the closure you're looking for. You're going to have to find that on your own. I'm done trying to make sense of why you left. I'm done trying to make excuses for you. I'm focusing on myself now, and I'm not going to let you or anyone else take that away from me.
I hope you and Izzie find whatever it is you're looking for. But don't expect anything from me.
Jo.
She hit send before she could second-guess herself, feeling a strange mix of relief and sadness wash over her. It wasn't easy to say those things to Alex, but it was necessary. She needed to reclaim her own power, to stop letting his choices define her.
A few days later, Jo found herself in the hospital cafeteria, sitting with Link and enjoying a rare moment of calm between surgeries. They were laughing about a story one of their patients had told them, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Jo felt genuinely happy.
But that happiness was interrupted when Izzie Stevens walked into the cafeteria.
Jo froze, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched Izzie approach the coffee station. She hadn't seen Izzie since everything had gone down with Alex, and the sight of her stirred up a whirlwind of emotions—anger, hurt, jealousy. But more than anything, Jo felt a deep sense of betrayal.
Link followed Jo's gaze, his expression darkening. "Do you want to leave?"
Jo shook her head, though her hands trembled slightly. "No. I'm not running away from this."
Just then, Izzie turned and spotted Jo. For a moment, their eyes met, and Jo saw a flicker of something in Izzie's expression—guilt, maybe. Izzie hesitated for a moment before making her way over to their table.
"Jo," Izzie said, her voice soft and hesitant. "Can we talk?"
Jo looked at her, her emotions swirling. Part of her wanted to lash out, to tell Izzie exactly how much pain she had caused. But the other part of her—the part that had been healing, slowly but surely—knew that getting angry wouldn't change anything.
"Fine," Jo said, her voice steady. "Let's talk."
Link gave Jo a reassuring look before standing up. "I'll give you guys some space."
Once Link was gone, Izzie sat down across from Jo, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She looked nervous, as if she wasn't sure where to begin.
"I know I'm probably the last person you want to see," Izzie began, her voice quiet. "But I wanted to say... I'm sorry. For everything."
Jo crossed her arms, her expression guarded. "You're right. You are the last person I want to see."
Izzie winced, but she nodded. "I get it. What Alex and I did... it wasn't fair to you. And I know I hurt you. I just... I wanted to apologize."
Jo stared at her for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She had spent so long being angry at Izzie, blaming her for Alex's departure, but now, seeing her in front of her, Jo realized that her anger wasn't really about Izzie. It was about Alex. He had made the choice to leave. He had been the one to break her heart.
"Look, Izzie," Jo said, her voice firm. "I don't need your apology. What happened... it hurt. But I'm not going to let it define me anymore."
Izzie looked down, her expression filled with guilt. "I understand."
Jo sighed, her anger slowly dissipating. "I hope you and Alex are happy. Really. But I'm moving on. I'm not going to keep reliving the past."
Izzie nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Jo."
Jo gave her a small, tight smile. "Goodbye, Izzie."
As Izzie walked away, Jo felt a sense of closure wash over her—not the kind Alex had been looking for, but the kind she had needed. She had said her piece, and now, she could move on with her life.
As she sat there, alone for a moment, the lyrics from "closure" played softly in her mind: "I know I'm just a wrinkle in your new life, staying friends would iron it out so nice..." But Jo didn't need to stay friends with Alex or Izzie. She didn't need to keep holding onto the past.
She was finally ready to let go.
