Kismet | ENGLOT

Chapter 34

Third Person's POV:

The hospital corridors pulsed with life, the sterile scent of disinfectant blending with the low hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic beeping of monitors. The air was filled with hurried footsteps, clipped conversations, and the occasional rattle of a gurney being pushed toward its next destination. Engfa moved through the chaos with a determined stride, her white coat billowing slightly behind her, though the weight of exhaustion dragged at her every step.

Her legs felt like lead, each movement a conscious effort as if her body had grown heavier with every passing hour of her shift. The clipboard in her hand was marked with notes, patient charts scrawled with a mix of urgency and precision. Her eyes, though lined with dark circles from too many sleepless nights, scanned the information diligently, her mind a whirlwind of diagnoses, treatment plans, and upcoming rounds.

Fatigue had settled deep into her bones, a relentless ache that no amount of caffeine or stolen moments of rest could soothe. Her shoulders sagged slightly under the invisible weight of her responsibilities, and her fingers occasionally trembled from the strain of pushing herself beyond her limits. Still, she pressed on.

As she passed the nurses' station, her gaze flickered briefly to the clock on the wall, the hands marking yet another hour that blurred into the next. But she didn't stop. She couldn't. Her purpose was too great, her resolve too strong. The memory of Charlotte's smile, her laughter, and the way she had believed in Engfa with unwavering faith was a constant presence, a quiet whisper urging her forward.

It was Charlotte's memory that fueled her, that gave her the strength to keep going even when her body screamed for rest. The promise she had made—to live her life fully, to help others, to make a difference—was etched into her soul. She carried it with her in every step she took, every decision she made, and every patient she cared for.

The hall stretched ahead of her, a seemingly endless path of doors and lives waiting to be touched. And though weariness pressed heavily against her, she tightened her grip on the clipboard, straightened her posture, and moved forward with purpose. There was work to be done, lives to save, and a promise to keep.

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By the time she pushed the door open to her condo that evening, exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. The familiar warmth of her home greeted her, but what truly melted her fatigue was the sight of Chompu bustling around the kitchen. The smell of something savory filled the air, and Engfa couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

"You're home," Chompu said, turning to her with a grin, a kitchen towel draped over her shoulder. She wore one of Engfa's oversized shirts, her hair pulled back in a loose bun, a sight that somehow felt more comforting than anything else.

"I'm exhausted," Engfa admitted, dropping her bag by the door and toeing off her shoes. "But this makes it better." She gestured to the kitchen, her voice soft with gratitude.

"Go sit down," Chompu instructed, pointing to the couch. "Dinner's almost ready."

Engfa chuckled but obeyed, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. The exhaustion didn't disappear, but the tightness in her chest eased as she watched Chompu move around with ease, her presence a balm to Engfa's frayed nerves.

Later, they sat at the small dining table, the meal simple but delicious. Chompu reached out to refill Engfa's glass of water, her hand brushing lightly against hers. "You've been pushing yourself too hard," she said, her voice tinged with concern. "Promise me you'll take a break when you can."

"I will," Engfa replied, her voice tinged with affection. "Thank you, Chompu. For this. For everything."

Chompu smiled, her eyes soft as they met Engfa's. "You'd do the same for me."