“Thorne! What do you think I helped with the helpers building this tent for this misison!” I paused, my gaze lingering on Thorne and Greta. She looked so happy just being near him, and he simply gave her a nod—acknowledging her in a way that ll
sent a sharp pang through my chest. It felt heavy, suffocating.
I turned my attention away, focusing instead on the large turquoise-blue tent ahead. It stood out vividly against the snowy backdrop, its conical structure reminiscent of something nomadic, adorned with ornate details and faintly glowing light fixtures. Inside, tables were neatly arranged, holding various medical supplies.
Of course, we had brought our own provisions for immediate check-ups, ready to assist the people here. I tried not to let Greta and Thorne get to me. If he wanted to act tough and cold, fine. I could play that game too.
But watching him let Greta openly flirt with him? Dear God. Stabbing her in the eye with a 10cc syringe was becoming a very tempting option.
“Places, everyone,” Thorne instructed, his voice firm and commanding.
I sighed, forcing myself to stay composed. Ignoring him—and the ache in my chest—I walked past without a glance. My feelings had no place here. No matter what was going on between us, I wouldn’t let personal emotions get in the way of saving lives.
As we set up, people slowly approached our stations. I was assigned to check vitals. Most of the villagers were hesitant, their eyes filled with uncertainty. To reassure them, I made sure to wear gloves before gently taking their hands, checking their pulse, and recording their vital signs.
Even so, I could hear the hushed whispers around me, feel the weight of their piercing gazes as they observed my every move.
“How could a freak like her let us check us ?” 
“I'm sure she's not even that good” 
"Here's your slip. You can proceed to the next station. Have a nice day," I said with a polite smile, bowing slightly.
They ignored my greeting, their gazes sharp with distrust. As they walked away, I caught the faint scent of disinfectant—one of them had sprayed it around themselves, as if I were something contagious.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Three patients down. I focused on my work, forcing myself to push past the weight in my chest.
Then, Greta’s laugh rang through the tent.
I didn’t have to look to know she was with Thorne.
My breath hitched. My fingers tingle, going numb as a dull ache spreads in my chest. My knees felt unsteady. I clenched my jaw, trying to block out the sound, the warmth in his voice when he spoke to her.
Thorne, how could you?
"Excuse me."
I blinked, snapping back to reality. An elderly woman stood before me, her expression gentle. Unlike the others, she wasn’t hesitant to approach me.
I softened, forcing a smile. "Yes? How can I help?"
"Would you have a moment to check my health, dear?" she asked kindly.
I exhaled, shoving my emotions down. "Of course, right this way."
Unlike the dozens of others before her, she treated me like a person, not a monster.
As I checked her vitals, she studied me with warm eyes. "This is my first time seeing a doctor as beautiful as you, child," she said with a kind smile.
Her name was Dulcie. In her seventies, alone, but full of quiet strength. She told me her daughters were coming soon to take her away from this place, and she wanted to make sure she was well enough to travel.
I returned her smile. "You're too kind, Mrs. Dulcie, but honestly? Just hearing you speak to me like this made my day."
She sighed in relief when I gave her results. "That's wonderful news, dear. Do you get many breaks here?”
"We’ll have a chance to rest later," I assured her, double-checking her prescriptions.
"I see," she said, nodding thoughtfully.
"I’ll be right back, okay? I just need to confirm your medications with my professor," I said, offering her one last smile before turning away.
Each step toward Thorne felt heavier, the tension tightening in my chest.
He looked up as I approached, his expression unreadable. "What do you need?" he asked, voice cold.
I held out the prescription slip. "Could you sign this?"
"Patient?" he asked, barely glancing up as he scribbled notes.
I explained Dulcie’s case, her mild hypertension, and the vitamins I had prescribed.
Without hesitation, he signed the paper and handed it back. "Here."
I exhaled, gripping the slip tightly as I turned away.
Not a single unnecessary word.
Not a single glance.
The day stretched on, a blur of patients and murmured suspicions. I barely had time to think—just moving from one person to the next, checking vitals, writing slips, forcing a polite smile despite the way they recoiled from my touch.
Even as exhaustion settled into my bones, I kept going. I had to.
I was scribbling down notes for yet another patient when a soft voice interrupted me.
“Excuse me, dear.”
I looked up to see Mrs. Dulcie standing there, holding a small bundle wrapped in cloth.
“Oh, Mrs. Dulcie,” I said, surprised. “Is something wrong? Do you need another checkup?”
She shook her head, smiling warmly. “No, no, dear. I just… I noticed you haven’t had a break.” She held out the bundle. “I brought you some cookies. You must be hungry.”
For a moment, I just stared. The contrast between her kindness and the cold treatment I had endured all day left me speechless.
“I…” My voice faltered before I managed a small smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Dulcie. You really didn’t have to.”
“Nonsense,” she said, placing the bundle in my hands. “You’re taking care of everyone else. Someone has to take care of you too.”
A lump formed in my throat, but I forced it down, nodding. “I’ll be sure to eat them later.”
She patted my hand gently. “Good. And don’t let these stubborn folks get to you. Some hearts take longer to thaw than others.”
“You should have a break too, come with me outside. You need some fresh air,” she added.
“I-I couldn’t…” I said, disappointed.
She just smiled. “I saw your colleagues take time off. It’s lunch break, dear. Don’t tell me you won’t eat because of work.”
I sighed, glancing around. Everyone else was eating, taking their lunches, except me.
“Okay,” I relented. “Thank you.”
We sat near a small garden just outside the tents, the soft crunch of snow beneath us as I took a bite of Mrs. Dulcie’s cookies. They were warm, buttery, with just the right amount of sweetness. I hadn’t even realized how hungry I was until I started eating—until the exhaustion of the day settled in.
With each bite, the tension in my chest eased a little. The sting of whispers, the sharp gazes, the way Thorne had ignored me—it all faded, if only for a moment.
I glanced toward the tents, knowing exactly where he was. He and Greta were probably sitting together, sharing a meal, talking like nothing had ever happened.
I understood that Thorne was distant, that he had walls built higher than I could ever climb. But watching him let someone openly flirt with him—just days, maybe weeks after our breakup—was something else entirely.
That was just so messed up.
“You think so deep, my dear. Is something bothering you?”
I snapped back to reality, my gaze shifting to Mrs. Dulcie. She was crocheting, her fingers moving effortlessly with the yarn. I didn’t even know where or when that crochet hook had appeared.
I forced a small smile. “Nothing, Mrs. Dulcie,” I said, bringing another cookie to my lips.
She chuckled but didn’t press, her hands continuing their steady work.
“My dear, I am old, and I’ve seen enough to know when someone is carrying a heavy heart,” she said gently. “You may not say it, but it’s already weighing you down—and that’s not healthy.”
Her calm, knowing voice echoed in my ears, sinking into the very part of me I had tried to ignore.
I hesitated at first, but as Mrs. Dulcie continued to crochet, her presence warm and patient, the words began to spill out. I told her everything—the heartache that wouldn’t leave, the weight of unspoken words, the sting of criticism. I left out Thorne’s name, yet somehow, she seemed to understand anyway.
As I spoke, the tightness in my chest loosened, if only a little. A small relief, like finally taking a breath after being underwater for too long. But as that tension faded, something else surfaced—tears. Silent and unbidden, they slipped down my cheeks.
I quickly wiped them away, embarrassed, but Mrs. Dulcie only smiled. She set aside her crochet and reached out, her frail but steady hands taking mine. Her touch was gentle, grounding.
“Oh, my dear,” she murmured, giving my hand a light squeeze. “You’ve been holding onto so much, haven’t you?”
I swallowed hard, nodding, unable to speak.
She let out a soft sigh, rubbing comforting circles over my knuckles. “The heart is a stubborn thing,” she said, her voice laced with knowing. “It aches when it wants to, even when we tell it not to.”
I let out a shaky breath. “It’s just… unfair.”
She nodded. “It is. But you must remember, pain doesn’t mean you are weak. It only means you cared.”
I looked down at our joined hands, her warmth seeping into my skin. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel entirely alone.
I looked down at our joined hands, her warmth seeping into my skin. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel entirely alone.
But as the moment passed, reality crept back in. The weight in my chest never truly disappeared—it just settled, waiting.
After Thorne leaving me, I felt that I was alone. I needed him, and he knows it. I miss him—all of him. Everything. Yet it looks impossible to bring him back into my life.
I’m scared to move forward alone, yet I don’t have a choice, do I?
A few minutes later, as our conversation faded into silence, my gaze drifted beyond the tents, past the village, toward the distant mountains in the north. Amidst the snowy landscape, partially hidden by the towering pines, stood an abandoned house. Its worn structure and lonely presence sent a strange pull through me, an unexplainable ache settling deep in my chest.
I couldn't look away. Something about it felt... familiar.
“Mrs. Dulcie,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “That house up there... Do you know anything about it?”
She followed my gaze, her expression shifting to something unreadable. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face before she sighed.
“That place?” she said softly. “It’s been empty for a long time. No one dares to go near it anymore.”
My fingers curled around the edge of my coat. The urge to go there tightened around me like an invisible force.
Could it be...?
I had a feeling—a deep, unshakable instinct—that it was connected to me. To them.
To my parents.
It was time to go back, and Caden showed up like a messenger of doom. “Alright, princess, break’s over. Back to work,” he said, nudging my shoulder.
Mrs. Dulcie waved as she prepared to leave, her frail frame disappearing down the path. I smiled, watching her go.
“Wow, from all that criticizing, someone actually cares,” Caden mused, crossing his arms.
“Yeah, shocking, right?” I sighed, shaking my head. “I was starting to think I was the town’s personal plague.”
Caden smirked. “I mean, they did disinfect the air after you walked by.”
I elbowed him lightly, rolling my eyes. “Keep talking, and I’ll make sure your next check-up involves a very large needle.”
He held up his hands in surrender, laughing. “Alright, alright! Let’s get back before Thorne starts deducting points for ‘wandering off mid-shift.’”
I groaned. “Great. Just what I need—more of his disapproval.”
As I returned to my station, bidding Mrs. Dulcie farewell with a grateful smile, a sudden, piercing scream shattered the air.
“Help! Someone help!”
My heart stopped for a second before it pounded against my ribs. The voice was desperate, panicked—familiar.
Mrs. Dulcie.
I turned sharply, my breath catching in my throat as I saw her collapse onto the snow-covered ground, clutching her chest. Her crochet materials scattered beside her, her frail body trembling.
No—no, no, no!
I rushed toward her, dropping to my knees beside her as the others turned in alarm. “Mrs. Dulcie! Can you hear me?”
Her face was pale, her lips parted as she gasped for air. Her pulse—weak and erratic beneath my trembling fingers.
Heart attack.
“Somebody get me a stretcher and oxygen—now!” I barked, forcing my panic down as training took over.
I tilted her slightly, loosening her clothing to ease her breathing. “Mrs. Dulcie, stay with me, okay? Just focus on my voice.”
She barely nodded, her body going limp.
No, you don’t get to give up now.
I fumbled for the emergency kit nearby, grabbing a bottle of aspirin. “You need to chew this,” I told her, breaking the pill in half and pressing it against her lips. “It’ll help thin your blood.”
She barely moved.
Damn it!
Caden rushed to my side, placing the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. “She’s not responding well,” he muttered, his own voice laced with worry.
I pressed my fingers against her wrist again—her pulse was still faint.
Time was running out.
“We need to get her to the medical tent—now!” I yelled.
Caden and another student lifted her onto the stretcher as I grabbed the portable defibrillator. If she went into full cardiac arrest, I had to be ready.
We ran, the snow crunching beneath our hurried footsteps. My heart pounded just as wildly as Mrs. Dulcie’s failing one.
Not now. Not today.
I refused to lose her.
The cold air bit at my skin as we rushed toward the medical tent, every second stretching into eternity. Mrs. Dulcie lay motionless on the stretcher, her breathing shallow, her lips turning an alarming shade of blue.
“Move! Move!” I shouted as we neared the entrance.
The moment we barged in, Thorne was already at the center, his sharp eyes locking onto the situation in an instant. He didn’t hesitate. “Get her on the cot. What’s her status?”
“Weak pulse, barely breathing. She collapsed clutching her chest,” I said, forcing down my emotions. “I gave her aspirin, but she’s not responding well.”
Thorne nodded, immediately checking her vitals. “Damn it, she’s going into cardiogenic shock.” He turned to another student. “Get an IV started—normal saline. We need to keep her blood pressure stable.”
My hands moved on instinct, grabbing the defibrillator and placing the pads on her chest. The monitor beeped erratically—her heart rhythm was deteriorating fast.
“She's on the verge of arrest!” I gasped.
Thorne’s voice was firm. “Charge to 200 joules. Be ready.”
I pressed the buttons, the machine humming as it powered up. My chest tightened. Please, don’t let me lose her.
“Clear!” I called out.
Everyone stepped back as I pressed the paddles to her chest. The shock jolted through her frail body, her limbs jerking before slumping again.
The monitor beeped wildly. Still no proper rhythm.
“Again! 300 joules!” Thorne ordered, his voice sharp and unwavering.
I swallowed my panic and followed through.
“Clear!”
Another shock. Another jerk. Another agonizing second of silence.
Then—
A heartbeat.
The steady rhythm of life pulsed on the monitor, weak but present.
A wave of relief crashed over me as Mrs. Dulcie gasped, her eyelids fluttering open slightly.
I exhaled shakily, my hands still hovering over her. “Mrs. Dulcie, can you hear me?”
She gave a faint nod, her lips parting as she rasped, “I… I guess I’m not meeting my husband today after all.”
I let out a breathy laugh, blinking away the tears that burned my eyes. “Not today, Mrs. Dulcie.”
Thorne exhaled, rubbing his forehead. “She’s stable, but we need to monitor her closely.” He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Good job.”
I froze for a second. Did he just—
But before I could say anything, he had already turned away, barking instructions to the others.
I stared after him, my heart a confusing mix of emotions.
Mrs. Dulcie’s weak chuckle pulled me back. “That young man… he watches over you.”
I swallowed hard. I wish he did.
But after everything, after watching him let someone else close while I struggled to stand on my own—
Maybe I had to learn to survive without him.