𝐄𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ~𝑨 𝑯𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚
•⋆°.☾⋆.ೃ࿔*:⋆𐙚
𝐕𝐈𝐇𝐀𝐀𝐍 ♡ 𝐑𝐔𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐀
Ruhanika, a quiet introvert with a passion for books and study. She thrives in the world of words, finding solace in...
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4 MONTHS LATER-
I was dead tired after 12 hours of surgery.
My shoulders ached like someone had been hammering them all day. I had been living in the hospital for 3 days straight, hardly sleeping, hardly eating.
Honestly, I didn't want food, coffee, or even rest.
All I want is him.
My peace.
When I stepped out of the hospital ward, I saw Dad and Mumma leaving his cabin.
Bhai already went home.
The clock on the wall glared at me 2:13 a.m.
Before I could think further, I had one last round of OPD. I made my rounds in the ICU, checking vitals of the post-operative cases, examining wound dressings and instructing interns on patient care.
Today, I assisted in an emergency exploratory laparotomy for a patient with a perforated bowel. The case came in late at night, the patient writhing in severe abdominal pain with clear signs of peritonitis.
Under my senior's guidance, I helped make the incision and carefully navigated through inflamed tissue to locate the perforation. It was physically and mentally tough, but every moment was a valuable learning experience.
By the end, the patient was stable, and I felt exhausted yet quietly satisfied that I had given my best.
I finished my rounds, gave instructions to the night interns, and finally walked out.
"Call me if anything happens," I told the interns who are on night duty.
Inside, I prayed nothing would happen. I had zero energy left to handle anything more.
I just need sleep.
"Done?" Mumma's voice broke through.
I nodded quietly. She handed me a water bottle, and I gulped it down like a marathon runner finishing her last lap. Hydration first, emotions later.
"Slow down, Ruhanika," she scolded lightly.
I sank into the nearest chair, still gulping water, trying to rest for a few minutes until Dad arrived.
My mind was too tired, circling the same thought and I wasn't ready to face him.
Mumma studied me as she asked, "Something is bothering you?"
I forced a faint smile trying to sound confident, "Why would you think so?"
She raised her brows, "Because you always scrunch your eyebrows when you're angry or thinking too much. You look like a pufferfish."
"It's not true," I muttered.
What does she mean by pufferfish?
I touched both my cheeks, squishing a little bit, to which she laughed looking at me.
