Hospitals had a way of stripping people bare. It didn't matter how rich, powerful, or put together someone was outside. Once they walked through those doors, vulnerability seeped into their bones like cold air.
This wasn't my usual hospital. Just a small community one I occasionally volunteered at when I needed something quieter, something to keep my mind busy without the chaos of my usual ER rotations.
I walked through the pediatric wing, scanning charts on my tablet, when I saw her.
A little girl, curled up on one of the waiting room chairs, her tiny body trembling with quiet sobs. She rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, trying to be strong.
Something about her tugged at me. The slope of her nose, the slight pout of her lips, and the shape of her face. It was like seeing a distorted version of a photo I didn't remember taking.
I walked over and crouched down beside her.
"Hey," I said gently. "You alright?"
She looked up, startled, then blinked rapidly at me. Her lashes were clumped from tears. "My brother… he has a fever. He didn't wake up this morning. Mommy said it was really bad, so we came here."
"Is your mommy with you now?"
She shook her head. "She's at another hospital. My aunty is sick too. Mommy told me to stay with Uncle." Her voice cracked at the end, like the weight of everything she was trying to carry was finally too much.
Trying to take her mind off things a little, I whispered into her ear as if I were spilling a secret. "Did you know there's a hot chocolate station down the hall?"
"Really?" She whispered back, her eyes widened with shock and disbelief.
"Yeah. Do you like hot chocolate?"
"I do!" She beamed, her doe eyes shining brightly. "We have chocolates with mallows on Sundays."
"That's so cool." I smiled. She was probably referring to marshmallows.
Before I could ask more, a man walked up to us. His demeanor was calm and peaceful. The kind of presence that made kids feel safe. "There you are, Zia," he said, crouching beside her. "It's alright, sweetpea. Zeal's okay. He's resting now."
"Really?" she whispered, eyes wide. "Zeal is okay?"
He smiled and ruffled her hair. "He is. You were very brave, waiting all alone."
Zia lunged toward him and hugged him tightly.
I stood and looked at the man. "Are you her father?"
"No, just a family friend. Their mom is a neighbor of mine. She asked me to bring them when things got complicated with her sister."
I nodded, glancing again at the girl. Zia. She wiped her face and gave me a tiny smile. I tried to return it, but my brain was buzzing with something I couldn't quite place.
"We're gonna get some ice cream while we wait, yeah?" the man said, lifting Zia gently. "Thank you, doctor. Appreciate it."
"Of course," I replied automatically, watching them walk down the hallway.
"Wow, if I didn't know any better, I'd think that was your kid."
I turned to find James, my closest friend, approaching me with his hands sitting lazily in his pockets. "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.
"She looks just like you, Z... A tiny snot-covered female version of you. It's uncanny." He wrapped his arms around his body and faked a scared shiver.
"Is that so?" I stared at the spot where the girl was sitting, lost in a daze.
"Wouldn't that be funny?" He turned to me with a mischievous smile on his face. "I'd sooner cling to the possibility of seeing pigs fly than Mr. I'm never having kids becoming a father." Patting me on the back, James walked off in the direction he came from.
I was still thinking about it when a voice broke through.
"Dr. Lauther, you alright?" asked Nurse Dana curiously.
"Yeah," I said, blinking back to the present. "Just… one of those days."
"I see." She handed me a file. "Your transplant patient's mom is asking for you. Room 204."
I nodded. "Thanks."
I made my way down the hall. Mrs. Kale sat just outside the room, hands clasped tightly together, knuckles pale. Her son, seven-year-old Max, had been on the transplant list for three months. His condition worsened last week.
She looked up as I approached, her eyes burning red.
"Doctor."
I offered her a kind smile and crouched beside her chair. "Max is stable. We're managing his vitals and keeping his discomfort low. I know it's hard, but we're doing everything we can."
She nodded slowly. "He keeps asking if he's going to die."
My heart clenched. This part never got easier.
"I won't lie to you," I said. "He's sick. Very sick. But he's strong. And there's still hope. We've got people monitoring him closely every waking second. We haven't given up on him."
She broke down then, pressing a fist to her lips.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's just… I'm a single mom. I can't afford to lose him. He's all I have."
I placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're not alone in this. We'll fight for him with you."
Her eyes welled up as she looked at me with gratitude and the tiniest flicker of hope. "Thank you, doctor."
"I'm just doing my job." I smiled at her.
After a moment, I stood and peeked into the room. Max was asleep with a stuffed dinosaur clutched to his chest.
I stepped away and walked down the hall again, but my mind wasn't on Max anymore.
It was on a little girl with tear-streaked cheeks, eyes too wide for someone her age, and a face that shouldn't have meant anything... but did.
Zia.
That name echoed in my head, even as I tried to shake it.
There was something about her. Something that felt like a thread pulling me toward something I couldn't see yet.
And I had a strange, quiet feeling…
This wasn't the last time I'd see her.