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Asclepius
(/æˈkliːpiəs/; Greek: ἈσκληπιόςAsklēpiós [asklɛːpiós]; Latin: Aesculapius) or Hepius is a hero and god of medicine in ancient Greek religion and mythology.
Asclepius represents the healing aspect of the medical arts.
His s...
A/N: I'm going to be putting doctor pick up lines in this space for every chapter... hehe?
Enjoy 2500 words~ 🤣
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"Here's your coffee, sir. Please, enjoy!" You exclaimed while forcing a smile to the customer in front of you who had by the time taken his drink and left without uttering a word or even glancing up once from his phone.
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S
ighing in exasperation, you grabbed the grey plastic tub filled with cleaning supplies and made your way toward one of the empty tables littered with used cups and crumpled napkins. The warm scent of roasted coffee beans and vanilla lingered in the air, mixing with the faint murmur of conversation and the quiet hum of the espresso machine. The Azalea Café wasn’t particularly busy this morning, but that didn’t stop the tables from piling up with dishes left behind by hasty customers.
It had been months since you started working here—just a temporary job while you figured out your next steps. You had taken a break from college, needing time and money to continue your business major. It wasn’t exactly your dream, but it was practical. A stable career in a high-paying marketing firm would at least ensure a future without financial stress.
You wiped down the smooth wooden surface of the table, the damp cloth gliding effortlessly over the surface as your mind wandered.
You lived with your mother, just the two of you. Your father had passed away when you were too young to fully grasp the weight of death. You had faint memories of him—his voice, his touch, the scent of the cologne he used to wear—but the one thing that stood out the most was that he had always been sick.
And you knew it.
Even when no one else had told you, even when doctors spoke in hushed voices and your mother cried behind closed doors—you had known.
It was because of your gift.
Or, as your mother called it, a divine blessing from God.
To you, it was neither a blessing nor a curse. It was simply a part of who you were.
From the moment you were old enough to understand, you had seen it—the way sickness clung to people like an aura, the way it marked them before symptoms even began. You could see where illness rooted itself, where pain lived within their bodies. It had always been this way, but you had assumed everyone else saw it too—until your mother realized the truth.
At first, she had been afraid, believing you were possessed. But after countless trips to temples, meetings with shamans, and spiritual cleansing rituals, she became convinced that you were chosen.
