𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ♡ (Under Editing)

| CHAPTER 59 |

7 YEARS LATER-

The hospital was quiet, like most days. Not silent-but filled with low sounds-machines beeping, nurses talking softly, someone walking fast down the hallway.

I walked slowly through the corridor. Everything looked the same-white walls, dull lights, the same plastic chairs that were always either too cold or too hard. People were sitting on them like always-waiting. Some with tired eyes, some looking at the floor, and some clinging to hope.

These walls had seen a lot. So had I.

There was one chair near a plant that I'll never forget. I had sat there after a patient died on my third night shift. I didn't cry. I didn't speak. I just sat. For hours.

Near the nurse's desk, there was a small mark on the wall-a kid once drew a smiley face there with a crayon while waiting. It stayed there for weeks. I liked it. When they cleaned it off, the wall felt too empty.

As I passed the children's ward, I heard a small laugh. A kid, probably playing or just happy for a moment. That sound, so light and free,like they didn't really belong here. But sometimes, in this heavy place, it slips in.

I adjusted my stethoscope. The weight of it reminded me why I was here. Being a doctor isn't always about curing people. Sometimes it's about sitting beside them. Telling the truth gently. Staying a little longer when someone's scared or lonely.

Hospitals aren't just buildings for treatment. They are full of stories. Some stories end with smiles and thank yous. Some....don't.

I walked into the staff room, placed my bag down, and sat on the chair. My back hurt. My feet were sore. But I was used to it.

This was just another day.

Another story.

And I was still standing, still doing my part.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, just for a minute.

Eight months.

That's how long I had been here.

A small hospital in a quiet village, surrounded by fields and dusty roads. The mobile network was weak here, but people's feelings were strong and real.

It wasn't part of the original plan.

I was supposed to be working at my father's hospital in the city-freshly graduated, ready to start my post-graduation residency. Everything was lined up. Everything looked perfect from the outside.

But plans change.

So, I worked just for three months in my father's hospital but then i signed up for a one-year medical outreach program instead-serving in remote areas. It wasn't an impulsive decision. It was something I had thought through. Quietly. Alone.

Shruti would always joke, "People come to rural camps to gain experience, not run from luxury hospitals."

I never corrected her.