faded echoes ¦ sk x ks

CHAPTER 11

Ling's Point of View

I softly brushed the tears away. The weight of the heartache felt so familiar. My fingers hesitated a moment before touching the small red box—the one with the promise rings. They were gifts Orm had given me on my birthday—the best birthday of my life. I smiled bitterly at the memory. The rings weren't just ornaments; they symbolized promises: promises to marry me, promises to build a future together, promises to create endless happy memories. 

But those promises... They were shattered, like glass breaking on the cold floor.

Orm had broken them, and because of her, I couldn't bring myself to believe in promises anymore. The woman I loved had made me hate what she once swore to honor.

I slowly put the box back on the shelf, closing it with a finality that echoed in my chest. Leaving it there, I retreated to my bedroom, too tired to cry anymore. Too tired to confront the relentless pain that seemed to haunt me, no matter how much I wished it would fade. My body collapsed onto the bed, the questions swirling in my mind pulling me into a restless sleep.

"Good morning, Doc!" Nene's cheerful voice greeted me as I walked into my office, an attempt at normalcy.

I pasted a forced smile on my face. "Good morning. Is the first patient here yet?"

"Not yet, Doc."

I looked at my watch. It was too early. "Can you get me a coffee from that place down the street?" I asked, shrugging into my coat and dropping into my swivel chair, the worn comfort of routine beckoning me in.

"Sure, Doc. What flavor?"

"The usual," I said without thinking, my mind already distracted by the mountain of paperwork on my desk.

Nene nodded and left. I kept myself busy with work, filling the emptiness with it. I approached each task with concentration, monotony often helping me to divert my thoughts, hidden in a corner of my head. Fifteen minutes passed, and Nene came back with the coffee. This time she spoke while breaking my concentration.

"Your first patient is already outside," she said.

"Okay, let her in," I replied, the professionalism sliding back into place.

The door opened, and a woman entered, her smile bright and eager. I mirrored her expression as I stood to greet her. "Please, have a seat so we can get started."

She sat, still smiling, but there was a nervousness to her that I couldn't ignore. I clasped my hands together, my gaze steady as I studied her. "So, Ms. Agravante, what brings you in today?"

"Well… it's my skin…" she began, her voice wavering slightly.

I nodded, already understanding. "I understand. Can you elaborate on that?"

She hesitated but began talking, the nervousness so alive. I just couldn't help but smile to reassure her. "I get it that you are nervous, Ms. Agravante. That's why I'm here—to help you out. You don't need to worry."

She took a deep breath in relief and nodded. "I have developed rashes on my skin after using this product..."

I leaned forward slightly as I listened further. "May I know the product? And how long have you been using it?"

"It's a new brightening serum I purchased online. Its name is Luminous Glow, and I've been using it for about two weeks so far." She detailed, her confidence rising as she spoke.

I listened attentively, taking in every detail. Our conversation continued as I examined the rashes, offering advice on skincare products and how to be more cautious with new products. After a careful assessment, I prescribed a mild hydrocortisone cream to help alleviate the inflammation and itching.

"Remember, always patch test new products on a small area before applying them to your face or body. It's a simple precaution that can prevent reactions like this," I counseled, my tone kind but firm.

"I will, Doc. Thank you so much!" she said, relief flooding her face.

I nodded and smiled faintly. It quickly became a mad scramble to get through my day; the hours melted away as streams of patients poured in to be seen to. I didn't have even an instant to think beyond the work ahead of me. The casualty list for the bus accident filled the emergency ward, and the hospital was slammed. There was no place, no room to breathe.

The patient flow coming in for their rash caused by the same serum, Luminous Glow, made my exhaustion worse. I did not have one free moment to pay attention to the ache beneath my chest, the one that had been going on since the day Orm walked away from me.

In a strange way, I was thankful for the overwhelming busyness. My mind was too occupied to let thoughts of her creep in, even for a split second. The questions, the pain—it was all drowned out by the weight of my responsibilities. And for that, I was grateful.