Love and Resilience

Unspoken Distance

Jovana's POV

Two months had passed since Serena became my patient, and every day felt like a rollercoaster of emotions. Watching her endure the grueling chemotherapy sessions tore at my heart. Her once-bright eyes, full of life and hope, now held shadows of pain and exhaustion. I could see it in the way she flinched when the IV needle was inserted, or how she tried to smile through the nausea.

As a doctor, I had seen it all before, but with Serena, it was different. This wasn’t just another patient I knew her, loved her once, and seeing her suffer was unbearable.

Today, I was on my usual rounds, checking in on my patients. As I approached Serena’s room, I took a deep breath. It wasn’t easy facing her day after day, knowing that there were things left unsaid between us. The distance she maintained was palpable, and I couldn’t help but feel that our history was a weight she was still carrying.

When I entered the room, I froze. There she was, sitting on her hospital bed, smiling faintly while talking to a man I didn’t recognize. They both turned toward me the moment I stepped in, the conversation cutting short. I noticed the man’s hand resting gently over Serena’s, and something inside me twisted.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I quickly said, trying to maintain my professional composure. “Am I interrupting something? I can come back later.”

Before either of them could respond, I turned on my heel and left the room, the image of their hands still lingering in my mind. I could feel my pulse quickening as I walked to my next patient, trying to push the thoughts away.

It wasn’t my business. Serena had every right to have someone in her life, and yet, I couldn’t stop wondering: Who was that guy? Why was he holding her hand? Was he just a friend or something more?

As I sat down for a short break, my mind refused to quiet down. My emotions were all over the place jealousy, frustration, sadness, and maybe even a hint of longing. I had no right to feel any of this. Serena wasn’t mine anymore. But knowing that didn’t stop the ache in my chest.

Just then, Dr. Cassandra approached me, her usual bright smile plastered on her face. Cassandra was nice enough a skilled doctor, friendly, and well-liked by the staff. I was well aware that she had a crush on me. She had hinted at it more times than I cared to count, but I had never given her the chance. My heart was still too tangled up with Serena to even consider anyone else.

“Hi, Dr. Rommer,” Cassandra greeted me, pulling up a chair beside me. "Mukhang malalim ang iniisip mo."

I forced a smile, hoping she wouldn’t pry. “Just thinking about work, as always.”

Cassandra gave me a sympathetic look. “I know your new patient has been a tough case. Serena, right? I’ve heard she’s been through a lot.”

Hearing Serena’s name from Cassandra’s mouth only deepened the pit in my stomach. I nodded, choosing my words carefully. “Yeah, she’s been battling leukemia for a year now. The treatments are intense, but she’s holding on.”

Cassandra’s eyes softened. “You’re doing great work with her, Jovana. I’m sure she appreciates everything you’re doing.”

I smiled weakly, but my thoughts were still elsewhere. After a few minutes of small talk, I excused myself and headed back to Serena’s room. I needed to see her again, to somehow shake off the unsettling feelings swirling in my mind.

When I walked in this time, the man was gone. Serena was sitting up, and I immediately noticed the red roses in a vase on her bedside table. Red roses. I stared at them for a moment, feeling another sharp pang in my chest. I whispered to myself, “Pink tulips are her favorite, not red roses.”

“Hey,” I said aloud, trying to sound casual as I approached her bed. "Kamusta pakiramdam mo ngayon?"

Serena looked at me, her face composed, but I could tell she was weary from the treatments. “I’m managing,” she replied softly, her voice tinged with the exhaustion of someone who had been through too much.

I nodded, making a few notes on her chart, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. There was a distance between us, a wall that had been building for weeks. Even when I tried to ask her about how she was coping emotionally, she gave me short, guarded answers, as if she didn’t want to let me in.

“I know the chemo is tough,” I said, trying again to connect with her. “But you’re strong, Serena. I’ve seen you fight through this.”

Serena smiled faintly but didn’t say anything. The silence between us was heavy, almost suffocating. I knew she was avoiding something, maybe avoiding me. It was painful to admit, but I could feel it in every word left unsaid.