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MANI RHODES
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Saiomi navigated the bustling hallways of Massachusetts General Hospital with practiced ease, her days blending into a rhythm of routine and quiet resilience.
Her dark skin, deep and rich, seemed to glow under the harsh hospital lights, and her curvy figure was accentuated by the crisp, white nurse's uniform she wore.
Her size C breasts and plump butt, though always a part of her, felt like a distant echo of the woman she used to be.
Her face was framed by thick square glasses that sat perched on her nose, which was small and button-like.
Her dark brown eyes, often obscured by the glasses, held a depth of emotion that belied her calm exterior. Her full lips curved into a polite smile whenever she received compliments, but her smile rarely reached her eyes these days.
As she walked from room to room, checking on patients and offering gentle reassurances, her coworkers frequently complimented her. "Saiomi, you look stunning today!" one nurse would say, while another would add, "You have such a calming presence, it's like you're glowing."
Saiomi offered a polite smile each time, her eyes betraying a hint of weariness. The compliments, though well-meaning, felt hollow.
They were like a distant echo of a self she no longer recognized, a self that had been buried beneath layers of grief and disappointment.
The stillbirth of her baby two years ago had cast a long shadow over her life, and the failed relationship that had preceded it had left her with a profound sense of loss.
Her days at the hospital were filled with the buzz of activity—patients arriving, charts being updated, and medical staff moving in a synchronized dance of care.
Yet, despite the noise and the flurry of activity, a quiet melancholy clung to her. Each smile and kind word from her colleagues was a reminder of how different she felt from the person they saw.
