Eternally Yours

With her hair neatly framing her face, she walked behind Nurse Crystal, whose confident strides and no-nonsense demeanor set the pace.

They passed by two other nurses, exchanging fleeting smiles and nods of acknowledgment — one, a tall woman with an affable grin, was known for her quick wit in stressful situations ‘Julie’; the other, a red-haired nurse, her badge reading ‘Clara,’ had a reputation for being exceptionally thorough.

“Mrs. Adler in room 204 is your responsibility today,” Crystal informed Hana, her voice cutting clearly above the distant beeps and murmurs.

“Yes Nurse Crystal,” Hana replied softly, twirling a strand of her dark hair, a nervous habit that betrayed her uncertainty.

They entered Mrs. Adler’s room, a woman draped in sleek business attire, her phone pressed firmly to her ear. She barely glanced up as they approached, her voice sharp like the snap of crisp paper. “I don’t care about the Henderson account; I want those figures on my desk yesterday!”

“Good morning, Mrs. Adler,” Hana greeted, though her voice seemed to evaporate against the woman’s cold exterior. “I’m here to take your vitals.”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Mrs. Adler snapped, finally locking eyes with Hana. Her gaze was piercing, her annoyance palpable.

“Apologies, ma’am. It will only take a moment,” Hana replied, reaching for the blood pressure cuff with hands that subtly trembled.

“Typical,” Mrs. Adler huffed, ending her call with an irritated jab at her phone. “You’d think they’d train you to respect a patient’s time.”

Hana felt her heartbeat quicken, but she focused on the task, rolling up the sleeve of Mrs. Adler’s gown. The cuff inflated, the rhythmic pulsing a stark contrast to the silence that now filled the room. Mrs. Adler’s glare seemed to weigh on her, making every second stretch longer.

“Seems like you’re new at this,” Mrs. Adler said disdainfully as Hana recorded the numbers. “Your hands are shaking. How can anyone trust you to do anything right?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Adler, I am so—” Hana started, but the woman interrupted her with a scoff.

“Ha! Show some confidence, girl. You’re in healthcare; act like it matters to you.”

Hana’s cheeks warmed, a flush of embarrassment creeping over her delicate features. She silently prayed for the strength not to let the harsh words chip away at her resolve. Taking a deep breath, she moved to check Mrs. Adler’s temperature, the beep of the thermometer a small victory amidst the criticism.

“Thank you for your patience, Mrs. Adler,” Hana managed to say, her tone steady even as her insides churned. “We’ll take good care of you.”

As she stepped out of the room, she heaved a sigh of relief. Her silver necklace charm caught the light, a glimmer of solace, and she adjusted the heirloom watch on her wrist — a silent reminder that, with each tick, she grew more into the nurse she was meant to be.

The shrill ring of the call bell pierced through the controlled chaos of the hospital ward, immediately drawing Hana’s attention. Mrs. Adler’s previously composed features were now twisted in pain, her hand clutching at her abdomen as she doubled over in her seat.

“Please—help me,” Mrs. Adler gasped out, her voice a strangled whisper.

Hana didn’t hesitate. Her training kicked in, and she rushed to Mrs. Adler’s side, pressing the emergency response button before calling out, “I need assistance here!”

Two nurses, their faces etched with concern, hastened over. The taller of the two, with hair pulled back in a practical bun, swiftly assessed the situation. “Let’s get her into a ward, now.”

Together, they supported Mrs. Adler, guiding her onto a gurney with gentle efficiency. Each movement was measured, and their combined experience within the sterile, sage-green walls of the hospital was evident in every step.

“Dr. Jenkins, we need you!” one nurse called out as they wheeled Mrs. Adler down the hallway, her moans of agony echoing off the antiseptic tiles.

Ren appeared like a specter from around the corner, his presence commanding yet exuding a calm that seemed to settle over the ward. He stepped up to the gurney, his hands moving expertly over Mrs Adler’s abdomen, palpating with a mix of urgency and care.

“Start an IV,” he directed, his eyes briefly meeting Hana’s before returning to his patient.

Hana nodded, her fingers trembling as she tore open the IV kit. She could feel his gaze on her, and it took all her willpower not to look up as she concentrated on the vein under Mrs Adler’s skin. The catheter slid in, and Hana secured it with a strip of medical tape, only then allowing herself to exhale.

“That should kick in,” Ren murmured, his approval fleeting but impactful. As Mrs. Adler’s breaths evened out with the pain medication coursing through her system, Ren turned to the other nurses. “Can we get her records?”

“Right away,” the bun-haired nurse replied, disappearing momentarily before returning with a folder thick with medical history.

During the brief lull, Ren’s gaze settled on Hana once more. Their eyes locked, something unspoken passing between them. It was a connection that seemed to transcend the flurry of the emergency, a recognition that felt both new and ancient.

“Your hands,” Ren commented, an edge of curiosity in his voice as he gestured toward the rubber gloves still snug against Hana’s slender fingers.

Hana’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly tucked her hands behind her back, breaking eye contact. “Just following protocol,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” Ren replied, a ghost of a smile touching his lips as if he understood the nerves that hid beneath her professional demeanor.

As Mrs. Adler stabilized, Ren flipped through the records, his brow furrowing as he absorbed the information. Hana watched him, her heart thudding in her chest, the undeniable draw she felt to him equally thrilling and terrifying.

At that moment, amidst the beeping monitors and the sterile scent of disinfectant, a silent understanding settled between Ren and Hana. They were there to heal, to ease the suffering of those like Mrs. Adler, and perhaps, in doing so, find healing themselves.

“Let’s get an ultrasound to check her abdominal cavity,” Dr. Ren said decisively, his gaze flickering from the patient to Hana.

“Right away, Doctor.” Hana’s voice was steady despite the undercurrent of nervousness as she turned on her heel and slipped out of the room.

Accompanied by Nurse Julia, whose curly hair and no-nonsense demeanor were a familiar comfort in the chaos of the ward, they weaved through the corridors. The wheels of the ultrasound machine hummed against the polished linoleum, punctuated by the distant beeps and soft murmur of hushed conversations seeping out from behind closed doors.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full with Mrs. Adler,” Julia remarked, eyeing Hana’s still-gloved hands.

Hana only nodded, focusing on the task at hand. They returned to the room, where the sterile blue curtains swayed gently from the draft of the air conditioning. The two nurses set up the ultrasound equipment near the bed, the gel and probe ready for Dr. Ren’s inspection.

“Set,” Ren acknowledged their efforts with a nod, turning his attention back to Mrs Adler, who lay with a sheen of sweat on her brow, her previous ire subdued by pain.

“Mrs. Adler, we need to take a look inside, okay?” Ren’s voice was gentle, but firm. Hana watched him apply the cold gel to the patient’s abdomen, her own hands now free from the rubber gloves, fidgeting with the hem of her scrubs.

The room filled with the sound of the machine coming to life, and the soft squelching noise as Ren moved the probe across the taut skin. Hana held her breath; something about this case felt pivotal.

“There,” Dr. Ren murmured, his eyes narrowing at the screen. “Do you see that, Nurse Shizumi?”

She stepped closer, her amber eyes scanning the greyscale image for the anomaly he indicated—a shadow that shouldn’t be there. A mass in the Fallopian tube.

“Yes sir,” Hana asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Ren nodded solemnly, then turned to the patient with a measured calmness that belied the gravity of the situation. “Mrs. Adler, we’ve found something on the ultrasound that we need to discuss.”

The patient’s face, already pale, seemed to lose the last vestiges of color. The tension in the air was palpable, the weight of the moment stretching thin the fabric of routine that usually shrouded the hospital wards.

“Tell me,” Mrs. Adler said, her voice cracking.

The sterile scent of antiseptics mingled with the undercurrent of tension as Ren’s hand paused on the ultrasound machine. Mrs. Adler’s eyes, wide and fearful, flicked from the screen to Hana, searching for something—anything—that might resemble hope.

“Mrs. Adler,” Ren began, his voice gentle but firm, “the mass we’ve discovered here is consistent with an ectopic pregnancy.”

A sharp intake of breath cut through the room as Mrs. Adler clutched at her hospital gown, her knuckles whitening. “Pregnant?” she echoed, disbelief etching her features into a mask of confusion. “But... but I’ve been trying for years.”

Hana’s heart clenched at the mixture of elation and despair that crossed the woman’s face. Years of yearning crystallized in a single moment, only to be shattered by cruel fate.

“An ectopic pregnancy means the embryo has implanted outside the uterus,” Ren explained, his gaze never leaving Mrs. Adler’s. “In your case, it’s in the Fallopian tube.”

“Can’t you save it?” The pleading note in Mrs. Adler’s voice wrenched Hana’s insides, a silent symphony of shared pain.

Ren’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly, a testament to the burden he bore—the harbinger of unwelcome truths. “I’m afraid it’s not viable,” he said softly. “The pregnancy can’t proceed safely.”

“Let’s talk about your options,” Ren said, casting a glance toward Hana, their shared empathy enveloping the room like a warm blanket amidst the cold reality of medicine.

The door swung open, drawing all eyes to the figure of Mr. Adler as he strode in, his expression wracked with concern. His eyes darted from his wife’s tear-streaked face to the solemn figures of Ren and Hana.

“Is everything alright? What’s happened?” His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the fear of a man who felt his world tipping precariously.

“Marcus,” Mrs. Adler breathed out, her voice trembling like a reed in the wind. “I’m pregnant.”

His face lit up for a heartbeat, a sunrise of joy that darkened quickly as he noticed the somber atmosphere. “That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” There was a desperate edge to his question, a plea for someone to affirm the happiness he so clearly wanted to grasp.

“Mr. Adler,” Ren interjected, stepping forward. “Your wife needs surgery. An ectopic pregnancy is life-threatening if not addressed promptly.”

“We’ll have her transferred to OB/GYN”

The word ‘surgery’ hung between them like a specter, cold and unwavering.

“Life-threatening?” Mr. Adler repeated, his hopeful visage crumbling. He moved to his wife’s side, enveloping her hand in both of his. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with sorrow and love.

“Can’t carry to term,” Mrs. Adler whispered, her voice barely audible over the beeps and hums of the hospital ward around them. “It’s in my tube, Marcus. Our baby...we can’t...”

“Shh,” he soothed, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his tears unbidden. “We’re together in this. That’s what matters.”

Hana discreetly stepped back, giving the couple a semblance of privacy in the crowded hospital room. She watched as Ren documented the findings in Mrs. Adler’s medical record, his handwriting steady despite the emotional undertow. Her hands, though still gloved, remained at her sides—no longer twisting or fidgeting but held with a newfound resolve.

As the machines beeped their indifferent rhythms, Hana realized that within these walls, life and loss danced a delicate pas de deux, and healing often began with the hardest revelations.

Hana moved with quiet efficiency through the ward, her presence a whisper against the cacophony of monitors and hushed conversations. She approached Mrs. Adler’s bed, where the sunlight now streamed in through the windows, she’d opened moments before. The fresh air mingled with the sterile tang of antiseptic, a subtle reminder of the world outside these healing confines.

“Time for another check,” Hana announced softly, her fingers deft as they assessed the pulse at Mrs. Adler’s wrist. The woman’s eyes, red-rimmed and weary, followed Hana’s movements without protest.

The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air as Hana busied herself with the final checks on Mrs. Adler’s vitals. The room, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun streaming through the open window, felt less like a confinement and more like a sanctuary at that moment. Mrs. Adler, her face etched with lines of both pain and contemplation, shifted beneath the crisp hospital sheets

“Are you doing this out of pity?” Mrs. Adler’s voice cracked, lined with the fatigue of confrontation she was no longer wielding.

Hana met her gaze steadily, noting the tension knitted between the patient’s brows. “I’m here to care for you, Mrs. Adler,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “It’s not about pity. It’s about helping those in need, regardless of anything else.”

“Even after I was so unpleasant?” A flicker of regret passed over Mrs. Adler’s face, the harsh lines of pain softening.

“Especially then,” Hana replied, her hands steady as she adjusted the IV line. “Sometimes, we’re tested, not to show our weaknesses, but to discover our strengths.” Her amber eyes held a deep, unwavering commitment that seemed to reach beyond the walls of the hospital room.

Mrs. Adler lay back against the pillows, considering this young nurse who radiated calm amidst the storm of her fears. Hana’s simple silver necklace caught the light, a beacon of her steadfastness. Outside, the world continued its pace, unaware of the life-altering decisions unfolding within the hospital’s embrace.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Adler murmured, her resistance ebbing away like the tide going out, leaving behind the raw reality of her situation.

“Rest now,” Hana encouraged, offering a smile tinged with empathy. “You’re in good hands.”

As she stepped away from the bedside, Hana carried with her the weight of Mrs. Adler’s gratitude, and within her heart, the unspoken understanding that every act of kindness was a stitch in the fabric of healing.

“Listen,” Mrs. Adler’s voice cracked slightly, betraying a vulnerability she seldom allowed others to witness. “About earlier... I’m sorry. I can be a bull in a china shop when I’m scared.”

Hana paused, her hands momentarily stilling from their task. She met Mrs. Adler’s gaze, seeing the woman—the person—behind the brusque exterior. “It’s okay,” Hana responded with a grace that seemed to fill the space between them. “We’re all human. We react in different ways to stress.”

Mrs. Adler’s eyes sought understanding, and Hana offered it freely. “What matters now is focusing on what’s best for you.” She straightened, the faint crinkles near her honey-tea eyes deepening as she spoke with quiet conviction. “Your life is precious, more than anything else. There will be other chances, other possibilities for a baby, but your husband... he can’t replace you.”

“Even with the odds stacked against this pregnancy?” Mrs. Adler’s words trembled, hope warring with realism.

“Especially then,” Hana said, her slender fingers gently smoothing the blanket over Mrs. Adler’s form. “This baby, because of where it’s grown, won’t likely survive to term. And carrying on could mean risking your ability to have children in the future—or even your health.”

From behind the door, an inquisitive doctor listened, his attention captured by the nurse’s genuine concern and clear explanation. He noted the careful way she avoided any clinical coldness, instead infusing her words with warmth and compassion. For the first time, he heard the nurse form a sentence that consisted of more than three words.

“Thank you, Nurse Shizumi,” Mrs. Adler whispered, her work-hardened hands clutching the bed sheets. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Take all the time you need,” Hana reassured, her necklace glinting softly. “I’ll be here if you have any questions or need to talk.”

With those parting words, Hana stepped back, allowing Mrs. Adler some space to absorb the gravity of her situation.

As she moved towards the door, she didn’t notice the tall figure of Dr. Jenkins discreetly stepping away, a half-smile playing on his lips; he had seen many nurses, but Hana’s sincerity touched something in him. There was just something familiar about her. Without interrupting, he turned and walked down the corridor, his mind already weaving thoughts of the nurse’s gentle strength into his reflections on the day.

The sterile scent of antiseptics mingled with the muffled beeps of hospital monitors as Hana escorted Mrs. Adler’s gurney through the quiet corridors toward the OB/GYN ward. The wheels hummed a steady rhythm against the polished floor, a counterpoint to the fluttering in Hana’s chest. She glanced at Mrs. Adler, the woman’s face drawn, eyes reflecting the fluorescent lights above like troubled pools.

“Will it hurt?” Mrs. Adler’s voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the hush around them.

“This hospital has one of the best,” Hana reassured her, her hands steady on the gurney despite the tremor she felt within. “They’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Comfortable,” Mrs. Adler echoed, her gaze flickering with the ghost of irony. “That’s not something I’m used to chasing.”

Hana paused beside the door marked with the bold letters ‘OB/GYN - Operating Rooms’. A nurse, the fabric of her scrubs rustling softly, joined them, her badge reading ‘Mira’. Mira’s bright eyes met Hana’s, offering silent support.

Hana felt Mrs. Adler’s tension, the air charged with the unspoken gravity of the procedure ahead.

“Will I...” Mrs. Adler started, her lips trembling. “Will I still be able to...”

“Try again?” Hana finished for her, understanding the question that lingered. “Yes. After recovery, there’s every chance. You can discuss this with your specialist, but many women go on to have healthy pregnancies.”

“Thank you, Nurse Shizumi,” Mrs. Adler’s voice cracked, a single tear escaping down her cheek.

“Call me Hana,” she replied, brushing away the tear with a thumb covered by her glove. “They’re almost ready for you.”

“Good luck, Mrs. Adler,” Hana whispered, even as the doors to the operating room swung shut, obscuring the scene from view. She removed her gloves slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle upon her.