Born To Heal You (MilkCiize)

BTHY - 2 🥛🎀

POV: Ciize

It's 1:55 AM, and I'm standing in front of the luxurious and stunning GMM Hospital. My dream—my ambition—is right here before me. Ever since I was young, I dedicated myself to medical studies so that one day, I could step into this building as a licensed doctor. I want to become the finest neurosurgeon, at least in my fantasy—and hopefully, in reality.

"Ciize, there you are! I've been looking for you for over an hour!" exclaimed my flamboyant friend, Gemini, who, I swear, looks more femme than I do.

"Don't be ridiculous. I've been standing right here, and I saw you walk past me just to mock my height!" I was getting annoyed, but he hugged me tightly, welcoming me to our dream hospital. Such a sweet guy—or maybe lady.

"Finally, we're here together, interning at the hospital we've always dreamed of! If we prove how gifted, smart, and hardworking we are, we'll have a great chance of getting hired here in the future!" He held me as if we didn't see each other almost every day in class.

"Gem, don't be so dramatic. As if your parents don't own shares in this hospital. You've got the biggest shot at being hired. As for me, I'll have to work my butt off."

"Don't let my family's wealth fool you. I've always been independent. If I had to, I'd work as a servant for my family. I never use their connections to get ahead. I've learned a lot from my earnest, tiny best friend." He tried to mock my height again, but I ignored him when a tall, good-looking guy approached us.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Fourth, your lead doctor. I'll be supervising both of you during your internship."

In that moment, I knew Cupid had struck Gem right in the heart.

-----

Almost immediately, Gem was assigned to another department, while I was assigned to care for a female patient. Before I started, I was thoroughly briefed. The patient I was assigned to look after was classified as a "Class-A" patient, meaning I couldn't speak about her to anyone—not even my best friend. Her identity was highly confidential. The medications she received had no labels, and her condition was described in coded language—not just medical jargon, but more like a secret report that needed deciphering.

I was told to refer to her as Patient 0731. But after a month of working there, her attending nurse slipped and called her by her name—Milk. The nurse was fired immediately. That's when I realized how serious my task was and how easily I could get into trouble if I wasn't careful.

Milk—what an unusual name for someone who looks so fierce, even while unconscious. Despite looking gravely ill, she has an air of elegance. Her lips are cracked, her skin has a bluish tint, and her hair is disheveled. She's really tall, about 170 cm, and seems to have grown even taller from lying down for almost half a year. Don't ask me how I figured that out—my mind sometimes works like a machine. Being poor but a genius has its perks.

I feel more like a spy than an intern doctor. I want to learn more about her, about her true condition. I want to help her wake up from her coma. If they really wanted to cure her, why not consult other experts? Or maybe they don't care, as long as she keeps paying for her stay. It's ridiculous to think about.

It's obvious they're all too afraid to give her the care she truly needs. I often see Milk, even in her unconscious state, freezing at night. The nurses don't bother to tuck her in or wipe the sweat off her forehead after giving her strange medications that seem to do more harm than good. They don't brush her hair, adjust her position to prevent bedsores, or give her a proper pillow to support her neck.

It breaks my heart to see her like this—helpless, neglected, ignored. Everyone is too afraid to make a mistake, but not me. I'm focused, attentive, and wise. If they ever accuse me of a mistake, I'll fight back. I won't let them mistreat her while I'm her assigned doctor. I'll take care of her like she's my own.

-----

I did thorough research and studied the laws about addressing her rights and needs, even as a "Class-A" patient. I consulted my retired lawyer friends about it. As a result, I drafted a letter requesting full authority to care for Milk, while ensuring her privacy and confidentiality were respected. I just wanted her to get the care every human deserves, not allowing her coma to justify neglect.

After submitting my request to the medical head office, they were stunned. They knew I was one of the gifted student interns, but they hadn't realized my potential in winning arguments. It seemed I might be better suited as a lawyer than a medical student. They didn't know I had quickly adopted the mindset of my retired lawyer friends. In the end, I was commended and given full responsibility for Patient 0731.

"Milk, now I can finally call you by your name. Do you know how hard it is to stay quiet when I'm 923% extroverted?" I said with a smile.

"By the way, I'm Ciize. Nice to meet you!"

As I held her hand, I was overwhelmed by the feeling she gave me. It wasn't just that her hand was cold and stiff, but there was something more. For the first time, I felt a strange sense of comfort. Despite being unconscious, she felt warm to my touch, evoking a euphoric feeling. Even though I'm a genius, I couldn't find the right words to describe it—the day we finally held hands and connected, even though she remained in a deep slumber.