The early morning light filtered into the room, glinting off the framed photos on her desk.

Hana descended the grand staircase where her parents sat finishing breakfast in the sunroom, her father Kaito buried behind a newspaper, her mother Midori critiquing the housekeeper. Hana takes a steadying breath.

“Mother, Father...I wanted to discuss... about... college,” she begins tentatively.

Kaito replied behind his newspaper with a monotonous tone. “Of course. Should we start touring universities soon?”

Hana shakes her head, slender fingers worrying the charm necklace ever-present around her neck, seeking courage. “I applied for nursing school.”

Midori nearly upends her teacup. “Absolutely not!” she interjects, azure silk robe billowing as she stands abruptly. She begins pacing, the clicking of her heels punctuating her words.

“I won’t have you around such chaos, such nonsense!” Midori continues, blonde hair impeccable despite her agitation. “You will train in your father’s company instead. It’s what I want you to do.”

Hana steels herself, meeting her mother’s flashing hazel eyes unflinchingly. “My mind is set, Mother. This is my path.” Hana’s hands tremble, but her voice remains steady. “Nursing is my passion. I want to help people.”

Midori scoffs, fear morphing into frustration. “Don’t be naive, Hana. It’s an admirable sentiment, but the world will chew you up.”

The words sting. Hana blinks back tears, fighting the familiar anxiety creeping through her chest. “Have a little faith in me, Mother. I’m not as fragile as you think.”

“Shizumi Hana, Listen to me!” Midori’s imperious facade finally cracks. She turns away, shoulders trembling. “You have no idea...”

Hana backs away in shock, the wall hugging her from behind. “I don’t even know if you love me anymore, you don’t even care about what I want. But it’s time for me to live on my terms.”

Midori does not soften into the embrace. When she whirls around, her perfectly made-up face is streaked with running mascara. “Go to your room, Hana. We will not speak of this anymore,” she whispers harshly.

She flees up the stairs as tears threaten to spill over, hyperventilating. Each breath feels like glass dragged over sandpaper. She muffles frantic sobs into her pillow, clinging to the one thing that grounds her. She focuses on its rhythmic ticking, anchoring to this moment until the panic attack subsides.

By the time her breathing regulates, her resolve has only hardened. She wipes her eyes, holding close the image of helping others like herself. It is time to let go.

Kaito rests a hand on Midori’s arm, ever the peacemaker. “Darling, calm down. She is just a child...”

But Midori turns on him. “This is nonsense! Have you forgotten what happened to our girl?” Her voice catches. “I won’t lose her again!”

At nightfall, she headed downstairs without another word, heart leaden but resolute, in her hands, a few belongings. This image of her mother, enraged and terrified, is not the final memory she wants. But she knows now that setting herself free means letting go.

************************************************

Hana gratefully sinks into the desk chair at the nurses’ station, rubbing her neck from lack of sleep. Her nights have been filled with studying on cases while her days have been preoccupied by endless shifts. She wasn’t even sure how many all-nighters she had pulled. Five? Seven?

Julia brings over a steaming cup of chamomile tea, its floral fragrance soothing at the start of the evening shift.

“So far so qu-” Julia remarks, picking up a chart while flipping through... The other nurses shudder dramatically. “Shhh!”

“Don’t jinx it!” hisses Clara, nearly sloshing her coffee as she waves her hands frantically, her fiery hair escaping its ponytail. She glances around warily as if expecting chaos to erupt just from voicing the possibility.

“Don’t even say it!” Audra pleads, glancing anxiously up from checking her phone.

Julia looks affronted, pausing mid-sentence with her mouth still open. The other nurses freeze, staring wide-eyed like she might set off an explosion by finishing her thought.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Julia huffs, snapping the chart closed. “You all are far too superstitious.” But she notices Hana surreptitiously crossing her slender fingers under the high countertop and hides a smile.

From one of the rooms drifts the hearty laughter of Dr. Rowan examining a patient. Hana allows herself a small smile at the comforting sound.

He joins them at the curved station, accepting the cup of strong coffee Clara offers with exaggerated wariness.

“Well, well...if it isn’t my favorite lovely ladies!” Rowan winked broadly at them. The nurses immediately snapped to attention as Dr. Rowan strode towards them, his beaming smile a stark contrast to his messy hair.

“Dare I ask what has everyone so tense this morning?” he inquires, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“They’ve gotten it into their heads I’m going to jinx things by mentioning...” Julia lowers her voice to a theatrical whisper “...the *q* word.”

Rowan chuckles, the rich sound seeming to break the spell. “I assure you many more patients are needing our help out there. But fret not, we’ll handle whatever comes our way.”

His calm confidence proves infectious. The nurses relax, laughing softly at their skittishness. Hana marvels at how he exudes steadiness and humor even on the brink of chaos. She wishes she could emulate that unflappable aura.

No sooner has the thought formed than the loudest new nurse intern, Julie, makes a flippant gesture. “Whatever, it’s totally quiet in here!”

The staff collectively tenses. But seconds continue to tick by without incident. Slowly the group relaxes, rolling their eyes at their ridiculousness.

The incessant clamor of the emergency line shattered the momentary lull that had settled over the County Hospital ER. Audra, normally a picture of composure, paled as the ringing drilled into the quietude. Her hand, trembling slightly, reached for the receiver with the hesitation of one knowing the weight of the news it might carry. “H-hello, County Hospital ER,” she stuttered, her voice betraying the sudden spike in her heartbeat.

A tense silence enveloped the room, every ear straining to catch snippets of the unfolding calamity through Audra’s end of the conversation. Her eyes widened, reflecting the gravity of the dispatcher’s words, and the room seemed to contract around her.

“Yes, yes, we’ll prepare for incoming!” she affirmed with a nod that none but the voice on the other line could see. The phone clicked back onto its cradle with an urgency that resonated through the stillness. Wide-eyed, Audra turned to face her colleagues, the blood drained from her face as if she had witnessed the horror they were about to confront. “There’s been an accident—a bus crash. Multiple critical injuries on the way.”

The ER explodes into action, Julia coordinating preparations, Clara wheeling out crash carts, and other nurses calling for backup. Hana’s pulse thuds with anticipation, the tea sitting ignored now.

Within moments the ambulance bay doors crash open to deliver the first victims. Gurneys streaked across the threshold, each carrying a precious cargo of human life hanging precariously between moments.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” the medics barked, the urgency in their voices a stark contrast to the practiced calm etched onto Hana’s face.

“Respirators and IVs, stat!” another nurse shouted, weaving through the maze of gurneys and medical equipment.

“Page Dr. Jenkins, tell him it’s a Code D!” The mention of Ren conjured an image of his larger-than-life presence.

A young man is wheeled in, face ashen, breaths shallow. His left femur juts out underneath the blanket at a sickening angle as Hana rushes IV supplies over.

Nurses tear into action, efficient despite the bedlam. Julia takes charge, her curls whipping around her face as she triages. “Clara, get a line in that head trauma and prep him for CT! Audra, start prepping the OR for potential surgery!”

From the corner of her eye, she sees a body bag being zipped up. The driver, she realizes somberly, did not survive the impact.

“We got a code blue, patient non-responsive!” shouts a paramedic, a man she recognizes from previous calls. “Pupils dilated and unresponsive, shallow breathing, pulse thready,” the paramedic rattled off.

Hana’s adrenaline spikes as she and the other nurses follow them inside, her feet automatically matching their pace.

The victim is a young man. There is an ugly laceration on his forehead, his hair is matted with blood.

“Weak, thready pulse and he’s not breathing,” calls out the senior paramedic.

She moved alongside them, her hands reaching out to steady IV bags, her gaze locking onto the monitors as they beeped frantically.

“Pressure’s dropping here!” shouted a medic as he wheeled his patient past. Hana glanced at the blood pressure reading, her brow furrowing with concern as she noted the numbers plummeting.

Dr. Jenkins strides into the room, his expression grim as he assesses the situation. “Let’s get an intubation tube.”

Hana attaches the leads for the monitor. Her heart plummets at the flatline, the harsh tone piercing the air.

Clara is instantly beside her, the two women working smoothly as they intubate the patient. Ren takes over compressions, counting out loud to the rapid beat of the machine.

She moves automatically, working to save the life now slipping away.“Still no pulse,” Hana reports, prepping it for shock.

All it took was a graze of the man’s skin on hers. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the beep of the heart monitor and the whoosh of the ventilator.

A winding country road at night. An old pickup truck careened out of control, headlights fading as it plunged into a ravine. The sharp crack of breaking glass and metal, a sickening thud.

Her eyes flew open to see the heart monitor flatline. “Clear!” They all step back and the patient’s body arches off the table. Hana’s hands grip the paddles tighter as she waits for the reading.

“Again, 300.” Another jolt. Still nothing. “Let’s increase it to 350.”

Another jolt, this time with an agonized grunt as the man’s body convulses.

The flatline continues.

Hana’s mouth goes dry as her brain struggles to comprehend the impossibility of the situation.

“Time of death 9:18 am,” he calls out.

A brief silence fell in reverence for the recently deceased.

A pregnant lady, in her mid-20s groaning in pain, holding onto her arm protectively was rushed in on a stretcher. “Help! The baby...” she gasps between pained groans.

Hana wants to run to her but the man remains in her peripheral vision. “My baby! Save my baby!” she cried out, the tears pouring out of her eyes.

“It’s okay ma’am, we’ll take care of you. How far along are you?” Hana asked while assisting Dr. Ren in the assessment of her condition.

“18 weeks. Is my baby okay?” the lady whimpered.

That’s when Dr. Lia arrived, her long strides quickly eating up the distance across the pit. The maternal OB/GYN didn’t even break stride as her hand found Ren’s shoulder in a practiced, familiar gesture.

As Lia sprang into action with quiet confidence and efficiency, Hana couldn’t help but watch her with a swirling mixture of admiration and unsettled feeling.

The way Lia and Ren worked in such a synchronized partnership, their physicality so comfortable and intimate...it was clear theirs was a bond fortified by years of shared experience.

Hana tried to push those unbidden insecurities aside as she stepped up to assist however she could. But try as she might, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being a perpetual outsider looking in...

“Ma’am, we are doing everything we can to ensure your baby is okay. We just need to make sure you are well too, and we can do that together. Alright?” Dr. Ren tried to assure her, but he was met with a teary glare.

“What if you can’t save him? What if something goes wrong?”

“Ma’am, let’s try not to worry about the what-ifs and focus on the things we can do right now. Right?” Lia smiled at her reassuringly.

“Yes, let’s do that. I’m sorry, I’m just so scared.”

“What’s your name, dear?” Lia asked in a soothing yet authoritative tone as she began her examination of the injured pregnant woman.

“S-Sarah,” the woman managed to gasp out between pained sobs.

“Okay Sarah, I need you to try and breathe deeply for me,” Lia instructed as she gently probed Sarah’s swollen abdomen. “Can you tell me if you’re having any contractions or unusual cramping?”

Sarah shook her head frantically. “No, i-it’s not that. It’s my arm...” She moved to gesture but stopped herself with a wince.

Lia’s eyes instantly narrowed at the aborted motion. “Let me take a look.”

With a feather-light touch, the doctor examined Sarah’s shoulder and upper arm, her fingers deftly seeking out any deformities or irregularities. After a few probing movements, Sarah couldn’t stifle a yelp of pain.

“I think you may have a dislocation here,” Lia murmured, more to herself than the patient. She locked eyes with one of the nearby nurses. “Get me the ultrasound for the baby and...Ren, the arm injury”

As the nurse hurried away, Lia turned her full attention back to Sarah. She smoothed the sweaty bangs off the woman’s forehead with comforting strokes.

“Deep breaths, you’re going to be just fine. We’re going to get you and your little one through this.”

“Ma’am, you’ve suffered a trauma, we will need you to take some pain medication,” Ren informed her gently.

“Please, no, my baby,” she insisted.

“What if you were given a mild sedative instead, something to calm you so you don’t stress yourself and the baby?” Dr. Lia interjected, noticing how anxious Sarah was getting.

“Jenkins, I’ll take it from here. You’re needed elsewhere,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Ren gave her the briefest of nods. He squeezed the pregnant woman’s hand once more before turning to assist another incoming trauma case.

“Vitals on this one!” a medic called out, directing Hana’s attention to a new patient. She leaned over, quickly assessing the readings.

The paramedic’s shout cut through the chaos like a knife. “We got a code blue, patient non-responsive!”

Hana helped slide the patient onto an empty bed, as Nurse Clara was shouting orders to her team as she worked. “O2 mask, get me an IV line, monitor his vitals.” Her mind raced ahead, piecing together a diagnosis from the symptoms. The puzzle was coming together, each new clue guiding her actions.

“BP dropping, heart rate erratic,” a nurse called out. Dr. Ren leaned over the patient, palpating the man’s abdomen as he searched for a response.

“Get me an ultrasound machine. STAT,” he said, directed at anyone. Hana quickly set up the machine as they all looked up at the screen, rallying them to the cause. “Blood”

“There’s internal bleeding,” Crystal said, meeting Dr. Jenkins’ gaze with quiet confidence. “We need to go to surgery, now, or we’ll lose him.”