Hana shuffled down the brightly colored hallway of the pediatric ward, a familiar pang tugging at her heartstrings. Everywhere she looked, children with bandaged limbs and flushed cheeks chased each other with infectious laughter, their youthful resilience a stark contrast to their ailments.

The infectious laughter of children filled the air, a stark contrast to the beeps and whirs of the monitoring equipment lining the walls. Here, injuries were met with teddy bear bandages and scraped knees with superhero-themed stickers.

A young girl in a pink cast grinned at Hana as she took her temperature, a half-eaten apple clutched in her hand. The air buzzed with the sweet chatter of children excitedly talking about the upcoming story time.

Suddenly, a sharp sound cut through the cheerful commotion. A choking cough erupted from one corner of the ward, shattering the carefree atmosphere. Hana’s heart lurched. A young boy, no older than five, doubled over on his bed, his face turning a frightening shade of blue. His friends, oblivious to the severity of the situation, giggled, thinking it was just another game.

“Come on, Ethan! You’re not fooling anyone!” one boy chortled, reaching for a stray grape on his tray.

“Ethan, are you okay?” another called out, a hint of concern creeping into his voice.

But Ethan’s only response was a strangled groan, a desperate sound that sent chills down Hana’s spine. Panic clawed at her throat, a sickening echo of her own past mistakes.

Hana’s mind raced.

Her hands, just moments ago steady as she checked temperatures, now trembled violently. She had just removed her gloves from Lily’s bedside. Shame burned in her cheeks as she fumbled for a new pair, her fingers betraying her in this critical moment.

“He’s not playing anymore, Nurse Hana!” one boy cried, tears welling up in his eyes. “Ethan won’t answer us!”

Her first instinct was to retreat, to find someone more experienced to handle the situation. Memories came crashing back in vivid flashes - a scared 5-year-old Mira wheezing for air, lips turning blue as Hana watched helplessly.

But then, the image of Ethan, his face turning a frightening shade of blue, snapped her out of her paralysis. Not again. She couldn’t just stand by again.

The emergency button clicked with a sharp finality under her frantic finger. The sterile white of the ceiling blurred at the edges as a wave of nausea threatened to engulf her. Fear was a cold fist clenching her stomach, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. Gloves or not, there was no time for hesitation.

Hana knelt beside the boy, her voice calm despite the tremor running through her. “Hey, Ethan, can you hear me?” she asked, her voice shaky. The boy’s eyes, wide with terror, flickered towards her.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Hana willed back the onslaught of fragmented visions exploding behind her lids.

Taking a deep breath, Hana pushed past her fear. Her mind, a whirlwind of instructions, focused on the rhythm, the count.

One, two, three – a sharp thrust into his abdomen.

Repeat.

The seconds stretched into agonizing eternity. Doubt, visions and fear, flashed before her eyes. Her knees hurt against the hard, cold tile but she kept pushing.

Again his future flickered through her mind’s eye, this time intersecting with agonizing memories of Mira’s rasping struggles all those years ago. The little girl who had been her entire world, battling for each aching breath.

“Not this time...you’re not leaving me, Mira!” The words burst unconsciously from Hana’s lips as she bear-hugged the choking child, compressing his diaphragm over and over.

But then, a miracle. With a choked gasp and a heave, the piece of fruit dislodged itself from Ethan’s throat, along with the content of his lunch, landing with a wet plop on the bright tiles. A wave of relief washed over Hana, so intense it almost knocked the wind out of her. Ethan coughed, tears streaming down his face, but he was breathing again.

The door to the room burst open, other nurses rushing in, alerted by the emergency call. Hana, still kneeling beside the boy, found herself enveloped in a wave of sound – the relieved sobs of the children, the concerned questions of the nurses.

Hana sagged in relief, not even registering the arrival of the code team until gentle hands were pulling her away. She knelt there in a daze, sweat-dampened hair hanging in her flushed face, the child’s tears and sick staining her pale blue scrubs. He clung to her, his small body trembling with a mixture of fear and relief.

“He’s going to be alright,” one of the nurses assured her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

But Hana could barely hear her. An unfamiliar warmth bloomed in her chest, a sense of accomplishment that had eluded her for so long.

She had saved a life.

All by herself.

For the first time, she wasn’t the nervous newcomer, the one who made mistakes and fumbled procedures.

The other nurses, their expressions a mix of surprise and relief, took over, reassuring the frightened children and congratulating Hana on her quick thinking. Instead, a quiet apology for the mess escaped her lips, and she mumbled an excuse before rushing towards the staff bathroom.

Hana, a triumphant grin plastered on her face, stripped off her vomit-stained scrubs and pulled on a clean set. The memory of the Heimlich maneuver replayed in her mind, fueling a surge of newfound confidence.

In the reflection of the mirror, Hana saw a sight that surprised even her. Her face, flushed from the exertion and the adrenaline rush, was no longer masked by her usual self-consciousness.

A genuine smile.

One that reached her eyes and crinkled the corners, still lingered on her lips.

Lost in the afterglow of her success, she hummed a tune under her breath, completely oblivious to the soft rap on the door. It wasn’t until a shadow fell across the mirror that she finally registered the sound.

A startled yelp escaped her lips as she whirled around, her heart leaping into her throat. There, in the doorway, stood Dr. Jenkins, his expression a mixture of surprise and… something else she couldn’t quite decipher.

His unexpected presence rooted her to the spot. Her cheeks, already flushed from the exertion, burned even hotter. For a moment, they stood locked in a silent tableau, the only sound the quiet whirring of the fluorescent lights.

“Dr. Jenkins,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Ren’s lips. “Good work today,” he offered, his voice softer than usual.

The news had spread quickly, it seemed. Hana, still buzzing with the afterglow of her success, managed a small, “Thank you,” her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between them, a stark contrast to their usual awkward encounters. Then, Ren’s gaze flickered down to her hands, bare and exposed, a stark reminder of the chaotic scene he had witnessed upon entering the staff room.

Hana, catching the shift in his focus, self-consciously tried to hide her hands behind her back, the blush creeping back up her neck.

Ren, sensing her discomfort, felt his own composure faltering. He cleared his throat awkwardly, a telltale sign of his uncharacteristic nervousness. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, his hand instinctively reaching up to scratch the back of his ear.

“I…” he began, his voice low.

At the exact same moment, Hana blurted out, “I...”

Then, a burst of nervous laughter erupted from them, the sudden release of tension shattering the awkwardness.

“You go first, Dr. Jenkins,” she said, a playful smile gracing her lips as she gestured towards him with her hands.

He cleared his throat, feeling a renewed wave of awkwardness. “Well,” he began, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to apologize for coming on a little strong the other day. About the… gathering...” he trailed off, searching for the right words.

Hana’s smile faltered, a blush creeping up her cheeks as the memory of Ren’s unusual request came flooding back.

She’d mumbled a hesitant “I need to think about it” and promptly avoided any further conversation on the topic, including the source of her anxieties - Ren himself.

Mira, her ever-optimistic roommate, had been ecstatic upon hearing the news. “A family gathering? This is huge, Hana! You’ll finally meet his parents!” she’d gushed, completely oblivious to Hana’s internal turmoil. Dating a doctor, especially Dr. Jenkins was a prospect Mira deemed incredibly “proper.”

Mira had squealed, her eyes wide with excitement. “That’s practically a first date, Hana! You have to meet his parents! Imagine all the stories you can tell me!”

“It’s not a date, Mira,” Hana had helplessly protested, but her words were lost in a whirlwind of wedding venue suggestions.

Noticing his own words tumbling over each other, Ren took a deep breath. “Actually,” he started again, this time slower and more collected, “there’s something I wanted to explain about that… favor I asked the other day.”

Hana, still a touch flustered by the memory, nodded hesitantly.

“You see, the lady you saw me with at the restaurant, well, that was a blind date set up by my mother.” He let out a small, frustrated sigh. “I didn’t want it, of course. It’s getting ridiculous how much control she tries to exert over my life.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Hana’s face, a stark contrast to the shy, flustered demeanor he was used to. This was new.

Taking a step closer, Ren continued, his voice low and earnest. “The thing is, this family gathering is practically mandatory. And frankly, I’d rather avoid the inevitable lecture and matchmaking attempts if I can.” He paused, searching for the right words. “They expect me to bring a guest, so...”

He hesitated, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Look, I understand if it’s too much to ask. You barely know me, and a formal family gathering might be… well. I completely understand if you reject—”

Hana’s brain felt overloaded, struggling to keep pace with Ren’s rapid explanation. Blind date? Mandatory gathering? Each word piled on top of the last, creating a confusing jumble in her mind. Just as she felt hopelessly lost, Ren’s voice, softer now, cut through the fog.

“Nurse Shizumi,” he said gently, his voice laced with a hint of concern.

His use of her full name snapped Hana out of her internal whirlwind. “I’m sorry, but...” she stammered, her cheeks burning. “What exactly would I do there?”

Ren sighed, a hint of exasperation tinging his voice. “Honestly? Just stay by my side,” he said with a slight shrug. He paused, watching as a blush crept up Hana’s neck, painting her cheeks a delicate pink.

The simple statement sent a jolt through Hana. “Stay by your side?” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. A blush, deeper this time, bloomed on her cheeks. Was he…?

Ren, sensing her sudden fluster, almost refrained from clarifying. There was a certain amusement in watching her flustered reaction. But the awkward silence was starting to stretch,“Physically, I mean,” he added quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. The blush deepened, and he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath. “Just to… deflect some unwanted attention, you know?”

“Oh,” she mumbled, the flush slowly receding. “Right, unwanted attention.” She cleared her throat, attempting to regain her composure. “Well, I…”

Hana mentally slapped herself. “Right, by your side,” she repeated, forcing a neutral tone. “Physically.” Disappointment gnawed at her, but a small part of her found Ren’s honesty refreshing.

Hana wrestled with the implications of his request. Still, a tiny spark of excitement flickered within her. “As long as I stay close to Dr. Ren,” she reasoned with herself, “everything will be fine... right?”

With a deep breath, throwing caution to the wind, she met his gaze and offered a small, hesitant nod.

For a moment, he forgot his practiced composure, almost reaching out to touch her, the pure joy of her acceptance washing over him. But he quickly schooled his features back into a neutral expression, offering her a hesitant, “Thank you, Nurse Shizumi.”

There it was again, that flicker of something in his eyes, something deeper than gratitude. But before she could decipher it, Ren retreated a step, the professional distance back in place.

“Well,” he said, a touch of formality creeping back into his voice. “I should let you get back to work”

The dismissal, as polite as it was, stung slightly. But Hana quickly pushed the feeling aside. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile.

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

The chandelier’s twinkling crystals cast a soft glow over the opulent living room buzzed with the controlled chaos of pre-party preparations. Crystal clinked against bone china as maids scurried about, arranging extravagant floral displays and plumping silk cushions.

An immaculately dressed Eleanor Jenkins, her silver hair styled in a classic chignon, sat on a plush velvet armchair, a delicate china cup beside a bouquet of pre-cut white lilies. Despite the warmth of the fireplace crackling in the corner, a glacial glint emanated from her piercing blue eyes as she delicately trimmed the stems, humming to herself.

A woman clad in a sharp black suit, her expression unreadable behind mirrored sunglasses, entered the room with the silent efficiency of a well-oiled machine. She leaned down and whispered something into the older woman’s ear, her voice a low murmur.

The woman in the armchair listened impassively, her perfect posture betraying no emotion. With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed the bodyguard.

Left alone, the woman in the armchair carefully opened the envelope the bodyguard had delivered. Photographs, crisp and white, lay inside. She scanned it quickly, her lips pursed in a thin line.

A deep breath escaped her lips, and then, with a flick of a switch, the carefully constructed facade faltered. A torrent of emotions, a mix of surprise, frustration, and perhaps a hint of… fear?– before vanishing altogether, leaving behind a mask of cool indifference.

She tossed the paper onto the table with a dismissive gesture, its contents hidden from view. Reaching for her phone, she dialed a single number, her finger hovering over the dial button for a moment as if contemplating. Finally, she pressed it, the room remained silent except for the steady crackle of the fireplace as the woman waited for her call to be answered.