With her hair tucked neatly in a bun away from her face, she walked behind Nurse Crystal, whose confident strides and no-nonsense demeanor set the pace.

They passed by two other nurses, exchanging nods of acknowledgment.

"Mrs. Adler in room 204 is your responsibility today," Crystal informed Hana, her voice cutting clearly above the distant beeps and murmurs.

"Yes Nurse Crystal," Hana replied softly, twirling a strand of her dark hair, a nervous habit that betrayed her uncertainty. Moments like these are ones where she wished she had the power of invisibility instead of whatever she was cursed with.

They entered Mrs. Adler's room, a woman draped in sleek business attire, her phone pressed firmly to her ear, turned away from the two nurses.

Her outfit reminded Hana of the one her mother wore whenever she headed out for one of her important meetings. She barely glanced up as they approached, her voice sharp like the snap of crisp paper. "I don't care about the Henderson account; I wanted those figures on my desk yesterday!"

Even the intensity and sharpness of the voice seemed to remind Hana of the woman she used to call mother. Why was today turning into a day of reminiscing?

"Good morning, Mrs. Adler," Hana greeted, though her voice seemed to evaporate against the woman's cold exterior. "I'm here to take your vitals."

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Mrs. Adler snapped, finally locking eyes with Hana. Her annoyance was palpable, despite the way she scrunched in pain in intervals.

"Apologies, ma'am. It will only take a moment," Hana replied, reaching for the blood pressure cuff with hands that subtly trembled.

"Typical," Mrs. Adler huffed, ending her call with an irritated jab at her phone. "You'd think they'd train you to respect a patient's time."

Hana felt her heartbeat quicken, but she focused on the task, rolling up the sleeve of Mrs. Adler's gown. The cuff inflated, the rhythmic pulsing a stark contrast to the silence that now filled the room. Mrs. Adler's glare seemed to weigh on her, making every second stretch longer.

"Seems like you're new at this," Mrs. Adler said disdainfully as Hana recorded the numbers. "Your hands are shaking. How can anyone trust you to do anything right?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Adler, I am so—" Hana started, but the woman interrupted her with a scoff.

"Save the apologies. Just do what you need to do quickly. I have to be out of here quickly."

Taking a deep breath, she moved to check Mrs. Adler's temperature, the beep of the thermometer a small victory amidst the criticism. Hana needed to leave that room as soon as possible. At least, while the walls haven't started to look like they were closing in around her.

"Thank you for your patience, Mrs. Adler," Hana managed to say, her tone steady even as her insides churned. "If you would excuse me"

As she stepped out of the room, she heaved a sigh of relief. The semblance between the two women was something that shook Hana to her core. But they were not the same person.

Suddenly, she remembered leaving the thermometer cap on the bedside table. Of course, she had to make a mistake. Mistakes were one thing she was good at. But she had no choice but to go in again,

"Mrs Adler, I am so sorry to interrupt-"

Mrs. Adler's previously composed features were now twisted in pain, her hand clutching at her abdomen as she doubled over in her seat.

"Please—help me," Mrs. Adler gasped out, her voice a strangled whisper.

Hana didn't hesitate. Her training kicked in, and she rushed to Mrs. Adler's side, pressing the emergency response button before calling out, "I need assistance here!"

Two nurses, their faces etched with concern, hastened over. The taller of the two, with hair pulled back in a practical bun, swiftly assessed the situation. "Get her on the bed, now."

Together, they supported Mrs. Adler, guiding her onto a gurney with gentle efficiency.

"Dr. Jenkins to Room 204!" one nurse called out to the intercom by the side of the bed.

Dr. Jenkins appeared from around the corner,

"Mrs. Adler, my name is Dr. Jenkins. Tell me if you feel any pain"

He stepped up to the gurney, his hands moving expertly over Mrs Adler's abdomen, palpating with a mix of urgency and care. As his hands got lower towards her hip side, she groaned deeper in pain

"Let's start an IV, 2.5mg Morphine, Stat." he directed, his eyes briefly meeting Hana's before returning to his patient.

Hana nodded, her fingers trembling as she tore open the IV kit. She could feel his gaze on her, and it took all her willpower not to look up as she concentrated on the vein under Mrs Adler's skin. The catheter slid in, and Hana secured it with a strip of medical tape, only then allowing herself to exhale.

"That should kick in," Ren murmured, his approval fleeting but impactful. As Mrs. Adler's breaths evened out with the pain medication coursing through her system, Ren turned to the other nurses. "Can we get her records?"

"Right away," the bun-haired nurse replied, disappearing momentarily before returning with a folder thick with medical history.

During the brief lull, Ren's gaze settled on Hana once more. Their eyes locked, something unspoken passing between them. It was a connection that seemed to transcend the flurry of the emergency, a recognition that felt both new and ancient.

"Your hands," Ren commented, an edge of curiosity in his voice as he gestured toward the rubber gloves still snug against Hana's slender fingers.

Hana's cheeks flushed, and she quickly tucked her hands behind her back, breaking eye contact. "Just following protocol," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course," Ren replied, a ghost of a smile touching his lips as if he understood the nerves that hid beneath her professional demeanor.

As Mrs. Adler stabilized, Ren flipped through the records, his brow furrowing as he absorbed the information. Hana watched him, her heart thudding in her chest.

At that moment, amidst the beeping monitors and the sterile scent of disinfectant, Hana found herself drawn to him. Had she seen him somewhere?

"Let's get an ultrasound to check her abdominal cavity," Dr. Ren said decisively, his gaze flickering from the patient to Hana.

"Right away, Doctor." Hana's voice was steady despite the undercurrent of nervousness as she turned on her heel and slipped out of the room.

"Looks like you've got your hands full with Mrs. Adler," Nurse Julia remarked, eyeing Hana's still-gloved hands, as they weaved through the corridors.

Hana nodded, focusing on the task at hand. They returned to the room, where the sterile blue curtains swayed gently from the air conditioning's draft. The two nurses set up the ultrasound equipment near the bed, and the gel and probe were ready for Dr. Ren.

"Set," Ren acknowledged their efforts with a nod, returning his attention to Mrs Adler, who lay with a sheen of sweat on her brow.

"Mrs. Adler, we need to look inside, okay?" Ren's voice was gentle, but firm. Hana watched him apply the cold gel to the patient's abdomen, her hands now free from the rubber gloves, fidgeting with the hem of her scrubs.

The room filled with the sound of the machine coming to life, and the soft squelching noise as Ren moved the probe across the taut skin. Hana held her breath; something about this case felt pivotal.

"There," Dr. Ren murmured, his eyes narrowing at the screen. "Do you see that?"

She stepped closer, her amber eyes scanning the greyscale image for the anomaly he indicated—a shadow that shouldn't be there. A mass in the Fallopian tube.

"Yes sir," Hana asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Ren nodded solemnly, then turned to the patient with a measured calmness that belied the gravity of the situation. "Mrs. Adler, we've found something on the ultrasound that we need to discuss."

The patient's face, already pale, seemed to lose the last vestiges of color. The tension in the air was palpable, the weight of the moment stretching thin the fabric of routine that usually shrouded the hospital wards.

"Tell me," Mrs. Adler said, her voice cracking.

The sterile scent of antiseptics mingled with the undercurrent of tension as Ren's hand paused on the ultrasound machine.

"Mrs. Adler," Ren began, his voice gentle but firm, "the mass we've discovered here is consistent with an ectopic pregnancy."

A sharp intake of breath cut through the room as Mrs. Adler clutched at her hospital gown, her knuckles whitening. "Pregnant?" she echoed, disbelief etching her features into a mask of confusion. "But... but I've been trying for years."

Hana's heart clenched at the despair that crossed the woman's face. No matter how she had been treated by Mrs Adler, all she felt was genuine remorse for the situation.

"An ectopic pregnancy means the embryo has implanted outside the uterus," Ren explained, his gaze never leaving Mrs. Adler's. "In your case, it's in the Fallopian tube."

"Can't you save it?" The pleading note in Mrs. Adler's voice wrenched Hana's insides, a silent symphony of shared pain.

Ren's shoulders sagged ever so slightly, a testament to the burden he bore—the harbinger of unwelcome truths. "I'm afraid it's not viable," he said softly. "The pregnancy can't proceed safely."

"Let's talk about your options," Ren said.

The door swung open, drawing all eyes to the figure of Mr. Adler as he strode in, his expression wracked with concern. His eyes darted from his wife's tear-streaked face to the solemn figures of Ren and Hana.

"Is everything alright? What's happened?" His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the fear of a man who felt his world tipping precariously.

"Marcus," Mrs. Adler breathed out, her voice trembling like a reed in the wind. "I'm pregnant."

His face lit up for a heartbeat, a sunrise of joy that darkened quickly as he noticed the somber atmosphere. "That's wonderful, isn't it?"

"Mr. Adler," Ren interjected, stepping forward. "Your wife needs surgery. An ectopic pregnancy is life-threatening if not addressed promptly."

"We'll have her transferred to OB/GYN"

The word 'surgery' hung between them like a specter, cold and unwavering.

"Life-threatening?" Mr. Adler repeated, his hopeful visage crumbling. He moved to his wife's side, enveloping her hand in both of his. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with sorrow.

"Can't carry to term," Mrs. Adler whispered, her voice barely audible over the beeps and hums of the monitor. "It's in my tube, Marcus. Our baby...we can't..."

"Shh," he soothed, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his tears unbidden. "We're together in this. That's what matters."

They all discreetly stepped out of the room, giving the couple a semblance of privacy to discuss.

Back at the nurses' station, she watched as Dr. Jenkins documented the findings in Mrs. Adler's medical record. Her hands, though still gloved, remained at her sides—no longer twisting or fidgeting.

Hana moved with quiet efficiency through the ward corridor, stopping at Room 204. She approached Mrs. Adler's bed, rolling a wheelchair to where the sunlight now streamed in through the windows, she'd opened moments before.

"Time for another check," Hana announced softly, her fingers deft as they assessed the clip on Mrs. Adler's finger. The woman's eyes, red-rimmed and weary, followed Hana's movements without protest.

The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air as Hana busied herself with the final checks on Mrs. Adler's vitals. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun streaming through the open window. Mrs. Adler, her face etched with lines of both pain and contemplation, shifted beneath the crisp hospital sheets.

"Are you doing this out of pity?" Mrs. Adler's voice cracked, lined with the fatigue of confrontation she was no longer wielding.

Hana met her gaze steadily, noting the tension between the patient's brows. "I'm here to care for you, Mrs. Adler," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "It's not about pity. It is my job. It's about helping those in need, regardless of anything else."

"Listen," Mrs. Adler's voice cracked slightly, betraying a vulnerability she seldom allowed others to witness. "About earlier... I'm sorry. I can be a bull in a china shop sometimes. I could give excuses but it would be just... excuses."

Hana paused, her hands momentarily stilling from their task. She met Mrs. Adler's gaze, seeing the woman—the person—behind the stern exterior.

"It's okay," Hana responded with a grace that seemed to fill the space between them. "I have forgotten all about it."

Mrs. Adler's eyes sought understanding, and Hana offered it freely. "What matters now is focusing on what's best for you."

She straightened, the faint crinkles near her honey-tea eyes deepening as she spoke with quiet conviction. "Your life is precious, more than anything else. There will be other chances, other possibilities for a baby, but your husband... he can't replace you."

"Even with the odds stacked against this pregnancy?" Mrs. Adler's words trembled, hope warring with realism.

"Especially then," Hana said, her slender fingers gently smoothing the blanket over Mrs. Adler's form. "This baby, because of where it's grown, won't likely survive to term. And carrying on could mean risking your ability to have children in the future—or even your health."

From behind the door, an inquisitive doctor listened, his attention captured by the nurse's genuine concern and clear explanation. He noted the careful way she avoided clinical coldness, instead infusing her words with warmth and compassion. For the first time, he heard the nurse form a sentence that consisted of more than three words.

"Thank you, Nurse Shizumi," Mrs. Adler whispered, her work-hardened hands clutching the bed sheets. "You've given me a lot to think about."

"Take all the time you need," Hana reassured, her necklace glinting softly. "I'll be here if you have any questions or need to talk. However, we have to move you to the OB/GYN now. "

With those parting words, Hana stepped back, allowing Mrs. Adler some space to absorb the gravity of her situation.

As she moved towards the door, she didn't notice the tall figure of Dr. Jenkins discreetly stepping away, a half-smile playing on his lips; he had seen many nurses, but Hana's sincerity touched something in him. There was just something familiar about her. Without interrupting, he turned and walked down the corridor.

The sterile scent of antiseptics mingled with the muffled beeps of hospital monitors as Hana escorted Mrs. Adler's wheelchair through the quiet corridors toward the OB/GYN ward.

"Will it hurt?" Mrs. Adler's voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the hush around them.

"This hospital has one of the best," Hana reassured her, her hands steady on the gurney despite the tremor she felt within. "They'll make sure you're comfortable."

"Comfortable," Mrs. Adler echoed, her gaze flickering with the ghost of irony. "That's not something I'm used to chasing."

Hana paused beside the door marked with the bold letters 'OB/GYN'. A nurse, the fabric of her scrubs rustling softly, joined them, her badge reading 'Nara'. Nara's bright eyes met Hana's, offering silent support.

"I'll take it from here. Thank you for bringing her over."

Hana felt Mrs. Adler's tension, the air charged with the unspoken gravity of the procedure ahead.

"Will I..." Mrs. Adler started, her lips trembling. "Will I still be able to..."

"Try again?" Hana finished for her, understanding the question that lingered. "After recovery, there's every chance. You can discuss this with your specialist, but many women go on to have healthy pregnancies."

"Thank you, Nurse Shizumi," Mrs. Adler's voice cracked, a single tear escaping down her cheek.

"Call me Hana," she replied, brushing away the tear with a thumb covered by her glove. "They're almost ready for you."

"Good luck, Mrs. Adler," Hana whispered, even as the doors swung shut, obscuring the scene from view. She removed her gloves slowly, wiping her sweaty palms across her pants.