Scandal & Scholarship

Chapter 19 (Ambrosia's POV)

The final day of the volunteer camp dawns, its sky a blend of colors that don't quite match the somber mood surrounding the area. It's been a grueling few days for everyone. The line of patients never seems to end—some of them pull through, others don't—and each moment feels like a test of endurance, a trial by fire. I knew, coming into this, that this was the life I wanted for myself. I always imagined it would be like this: raw, real, unpredictable. But knowing and experiencing are two very different things.

I finally get a break, and I sink onto a nearby bench, letting the exhaustion settle into my bones. I feel every bruise, every ache, but also that sense of rightness in the pit of my stomach. This is what I was made for, I remind myself—these moments when everything else fades into the background and it's just me, my hands, and the lives I hold in them.

Lily has been incredible these past few days. I'm grateful to have her here with me, her unwavering presence like a lighthouse in this storm of chaos. She's worked just as hard, and her quiet strength has been a comfort I didn't know I needed. But even though Lily has been my rock through all this, I can't help but notice how my thoughts keep drifting back to Alex.

There's this tension between us, an intensity I can't quite place, and I hate that I don't understand it. I've caught him staring at me more times than I can count, his eyes burning with something I can't decipher. And then there's me—just as guilty, looking at him when I think he won't notice, watching the way he moves with that same frustrating confidence. We've barely spoken about anything other than work, and yet, there's this electric charge between us, like the air before a storm.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps breaks through my thoughts. I snap my head up to see a stretcher being rushed toward me, the patient on it pale and barely conscious. My heart jumps into overdrive. He's been trapped between two large rocks; I can already tell he has broken ribs, maybe a punctured lung, and other internal injuries that I can't even begin to diagnose on sight. The severity of his condition is written all over his ashen face.

I jump to my feet, my training kicking in. Everything else fades away—the exhaustion, the lingering thoughts of Alex—and all that matters is this moment, this life that hangs by a thread. I work with a focused frenzy, calling for supplies, issuing rapid instructions, my hands moving as fast as they can. But it's not enough. His injuries are too severe, and no matter how desperately I try to pull him back, I lose him.

The world seems to blur for a second as the reality sinks in. The finality of it hits me like a punch to the gut, and I feel something inside me go still, like a flicker of light snuffed out. My hands tremble slightly as I let go of the patient, the weight of failure pressing down on my chest. We go through the rituals, saying our goodbyes in that small, solemn gathering, honoring the life that slipped through my fingers. My body is tensed, every muscle coiled tight like a spring ready to snap, but I hold myself together. I don't cry; I can't let myself fall apart right now. Grief is a luxury I can't afford in this place.

I sense eyes on me, and for a moment, I think it's just the curious gazes of the camp—people wondering if the stoic Ambrosia will break after losing her patient. But then, there's something different, something more piercing. It's Alex. His gaze is intense, unwavering, as if he's trying to read something in my expression, searching for a crack in my armor. I can feel the weight of his stare on my back, heavy and almost comforting, though I'd never admit it.

But right now, that's the last thing I want to think about. I can't afford to dwell on the way he's looking at me, on the unspoken words that pass between us, on the complicated knot of emotions he seems to tug at without even trying. I shove the thoughts of Alex to the back of my mind, locking them away for later, for when I'm not surrounded by tragedy and the echoes of what I couldn't save. Right now, all I need to do is keep it together, to remember that this is the life I chose—no matter how much it hurts sometimes.