Sienna

The second I saw the head nurse prepping to draw fluid from the patient's swollen diabetic leg, I knew I'd made a critical error in life judgment.

What was I thinking signing up for this?

The sight of the needle sinking into that bloated, purplish skin like a skewer into an overripe tomato was enough to twist my stomach into a pretzel.

Next to me, Ayesha didn't look much better. She was practically green, her face scrunched into a look of horror that almost made me laugh — if I hadn't been so close to throwing up myself.

When our eyes met, she raised her brows as if to say, "If you pass out, I'm going with you."

I turned back, suddenly reminded of all the less revolting ways I could have spent my shift. I guess it was either this or a colonic irrigation with Odette. No way.

Out of nowhere, the head nurse suddenly gasped, ducking out of the way as a huge spurt of pus shot from the wound. Ayesha sucked in a sharp breath, her face turning pale, but it was my stomach that lurched. The smell. Oh my—. The wave of nausea was unstoppable. I slapped a hand over my mouth, mumbled an "Excuse me," and bolted.

I half-ran and half-stumbled to the nearest restroom, barely making it to the sink before I lost my breakfast. Oh my God. This was so disgusting.

After a while, I straightened, rinsing my mouth and face with cold water. I glanced at myself in the mirror, taking a few deep breaths. Woah. I looked down at my belly, feeling a rush of guilt. This was definitely not the glamorous side of motherhood I'd signed up for. "I'm so sorry, my little ones," I murmured, placing a hand over my little bump. It felt like I'd dragged them into something no one, unborn or otherwise, should have to endure. "I'm putting you through so much."

After a few more deep breaths and one last splash of water, I headed back into the hallway. As I rounded the corner, I saw Ayesha standing there, rubbing something under her nose. She caught sight of me and grinned, waving the little pot in my direction. "Need a hit?" she offered with a smirk. "It's mint balm. Blocks out all scents of bodily horror."

I accepted it without hesitation, dabbing the balm under my nose and sighing with relief. "How did I survive without this?"

"By making bad life choices," Ayesha said sagely, leaning against the wall beside me. "You know, at this rate, I might take an early Christmas break. Save myself from a lifetime of olfactory trauma."

Christmas. The mention of it caught me off guard. I hadn't given much thought to the holidays at all. It felt like everything with Tristan had drained me so thoroughly that my mind barely had room for anything else.

Ayesha nudged me with her elbow. "Have you thought about any plans?"

"Not really," I replied, trying to keep my tone casual. "Just... work, I guess."

"Oh, come on. You must have something in mind. If you could do anything, what would you do?"

I shrugged. "I guess... go home?" I wanted to change the subject. "I didn't think you celebrated Christmas."

"We don't—not really," she admitted, shrugging. "But my mom's Christian and my dad lets her go all out with it. So, every year, she pulls out all the stops, and Dad just goes along with it."

I couldn't help but smile. "Really? I would've never guessed."

"Trust me, it's a whole thing," Ayesha laughed, rolling her eyes. "My mom gets super festive. Lights everywhere, tree covered in these ridiculous ornaments she's saved over the years. She even does Christmas music, which my dad grumbles about every single year but secretly loves."

I laughed at the thought, picturing Ayesha's mom decorating while her dad pretended to hate every minute. "Sounds kind of nice, actually."

"Yeah," Ayesha nodded, a soft smile crossing her face. "It is, in a weird, messy way."

"I think I might just—"

"Is this what you both get paid to do?" came a voice as cold as a January morning, snapping us out of it. "Lean around in the halls like jobless runts?"

I froze, turning to see Odette giving us the sort of look usually reserved for something unpleasant she'd just scraped off her shoe. Ayesha and I straightened up so fast we nearly hit the wall.

"We were just —" Ayesha started, but the boss lady wasn't having it.

"You," she said, narrowing her gaze on me like I was the main ingredient in her stew of disapproval, "you're assigned to the Ward Seven case with Doctor Xavier."

What? I blinked, my stomach twisting all over again. "Why me?"

"Because I say so."

I tried to protest. "Mrs. Odette I already have a case, I don't think—"

But she cut me off with a glare sharp enough to pierce armor. "You've just been assigned a new one."

"But the head nurse—"

"The head nurse will manage."

"Surely someone else—"

"One more word from you, and you'll be on bed sore duty for a week."

My mouth shut tight.

"Thought so," she said with grim satisfaction. "Now, get going."

With that, she turned and marched off.

Ayesha gave me a sympathetic wince. "Good luck. I heard all the other nurses bailed on that case. If you need to fake an illness, I've got a killer mint balm excuse waiting."

I grinned weakly. "I'll keep that in mind."

I turned toward Ward Seven.

Just another day in paradise.

***

I couldn't believe I was actually doing this.

Why couldn't I just have stayed quiet back there with Ayesha? Of all the places I could be in the hospital, and of all the doctors, it had to be Xavier.

Halfway down the hall, I spotted him standing outside a room, leaning against the wall with a file in his hand. He looked lost in thought, his gaze focused on whatever he was reading. With his white coat draped over his shoulders, glasses perched on his pointed nose, and that slightly unshaven jawline, he looked... well, too good for his own good. Or maybe my own good.

As if sensing my presence, he glanced up, caught my eye, and flashed a smile. My heart gave a little jump, but I swallowed, reminding myself why I was here. I walked up to him, trying to keep my nerves in check.

"Well, hello there, miss 'doing everything she can to avoid me'," he said, closing the file and tucking it under one arm. "What brings you to my territory?"

I cleared my throat, attempting to sound nonchalant. "Odette assigned me to your case. Apparently, every other nurse ran off."

He chuckled, looking both amused and relieved. "Lucky me then. I'm glad you're here."

Wish I could say the same. I nodded toward the file in his underarm. "So, what's the case?"

Xavier pulled out the file and flipped it open. "Her name is Mia Suarez, age, 57," he began, scanning the notes. "She's suffering from a severe pituitary tumor that's affecting nearly every aspect of her life. The tumor's throwing her hormones completely out of balance and wreaking havoc on her body. But that's only part of it." He glanced up, a troubled look in his eyes. "It's also distorting her memory and perception, trapping her somewhere between the past and present. She can't always tell what's real. Some days, she's lucid, and the next, she's completely disoriented."

I felt a pang of sympathy. "That's awful," I murmured. "Poor woman."

Xavier nodded, his expression heavy. "And it's more than confusion. She has these dangerous impulses, like an almost constant urge to harm herself. Sometimes she's overwhelmed with a need to... end it all." He paused, looking through the glass of her door, his jaw tight. "It's brutal what this tumor has done to her."

I took a deep breath. "So, what's the plan?"

"We're looking into options, but nothing is straightforward. Surgery is high-risk given the tumor's location, and hormone therapy alone might not stabilize her enough. We're considering a tailored medication plan to manage the hormone surges and, hopefully, dial down some of those darker impulses. It won't cure her, but it could bring her some clarity and reduce the disorientation, giving her a fighting chance."

"And how long before that treatment might work?" I asked.

"It'll take time. We'd need to monitor her closely and carefully adjust her dosage. It's a delicate process, but if it works, it could be the stability she desperately needs," he said, looking back at Mia's room. "It's critical she feels grounded right now. If we can keep her impulses under control, we buy her some time to consider other options."

Just then, the door opened, and a male nurse stepped out, looking thoroughly exasperated. "She still won't eat. Tried everything I could think of."

Xavier sighed, closing the file. "We can't administer treatment if she refuses to eat. With her strength already so low, this isn't helping."

"Maybe I can give it a try," I offered, stepping forward.

Xavier paused and looked at me for a second. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Yes, let me try."

After a second of consideration, he nodded, stepping aside. "She's all yours."

I smiled warmly and walked into the room.

Inside, Mia sat in a chair by the window, her frail figure outlined against the dull hospital backdrop. Her back was to me, and even though I could only see her silhouette, I could tell her posture was tense, as if she was bracing herself against an invisible weight. "Go away," she said, her voice quiet but resolute. "I don't want to see anyone."

I took a few steps closer, studying her. She looked so different from the last time I'd seen her. Today, she seemed more herself now, a bit healthier, but there was a sadness there, like she'd already resigned herself to defeat.

I took a deep breath and tried to sound as gentle as possible. "Hello, Ms. Suarez, I'm Sienna, your new nurse."

Her shoulders tensed and her hands curled tightly around the blanket draped over her lap. "Leave me alone, please."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Ms. Suarez," I said gently, moving closer, "not until you eat something. It's important and will help you feel better."

"I don't want to," she said flatly. "Just... leave."

"Ms. Suarez—"

"Go away," she snapped, voice sharp as glass.

For a second, I thought about giving her the space she clearly wanted. But something kept me there.

"I know you're going through a lot," I continued, trying to keep my voice calm, "but you're not alone in this. I'm here to help you."

"No one can help me," she replied sharply, her gaze still fixed on the view outside.

"I can if you'll let me."

She shook her head. "Go away."

"You need—"

"I don't need help!" she suddenly bellowed, turning slightly to me. "I need everyone to leave me alone!"

I took a step back. The pain in her eyes was so palpable it made my own heart break. For a brief moment, I considered just retreating, but then an idea struck me. Lowering my voice, I started. "Your son..."

The change was instant. She turned sharply, her fierce eyes locking onto mine. "Have you found him?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Have you found my son?"

I shook my head gently. "No, but if you tell me about him, I can help. I want to help."

The anger faded from her face, replaced by something softer. "He was... he was just a tiny little baby. So small, so fragile." She seemed to drift, caught in a memory that brought the faintest trace of a smile to her lips. "Soft, wispy dark hair. And these tiny fingers..." her eyes found mine again. "They took him from me before I could even hold him."

I felt a lump rise in my throat. Her sorrow was so tangible it was hard to breathe. I crouched down until we were at eye level. "I'll do everything I can to find him," I promised. "But you have to help me help you, Ms. Suarez. That means eating something."

She glanced at the tray of untouched food, then back at me. "You'll help me find him?" she asked, her voice fragile, like the hope could shatter if I answered wrong.

I gave her a reassuring smile. "I will. I promise. I won't stop until I do."

Nodding slowly, she picked up her spoon and began eating.

***

As I stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind me, I found Xavier standing just outside, watching me with a soft look of admiration in his eyes. He must have seen everything through the glass. He tilted his head, giving me a slight nod. "Impressive work," he said, his voice low. "I think you're the only one who's gotten her to eat in days."

I managed a small smile. "I just tried my best."

We stood together in silence, gazing at Mia through the glass as she picked at her food. Something about the sight of her — so fragile, yet clinging to that thin thread of hope — twisted at my heart.

"She keeps talking about her son," I murmured. "Do you think it's real?"

Xavier exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly... it's strange. There are no hospital records of her ever being pregnant or having a child."

"So she's lying then?"

He shook his head. "She has cesarean scars, so it's clear she gave birth at some point. But we've got no medical history on it, no family that's ever visited, and apparently, no one even showed up for her during the trial. She was completely alone. She first pleaded not guilty to the charges, but then, she changed her plea to guilty."

I turned to him, feeling a strange knot of pity and unease. "Why would she plead guilty after saying she didn't do it?"

He shrugged slightly. "No one knows why. Maybe it was a strategy, maybe she thought it would get her a lesser sentence. But it just... doesn't add up."

I frowned, my heart twisting with sympathy. Mia's reality felt like a maze with no way out, and she'd been wandering it all alone.

In a strange weird way, she reminded me so much of Tristan.

I looked at Xavier. "If she does have a son, I'd like to help her find him."

His brow lifted. "How? The cops tried, they couldn't."

"Maybe they missed something. Sometimes, people need someone who's willing to look a little closer. Maybe we could..." my words trailed off as a dull wave of dizziness suddenly hit me.

The hallway tilted and I reached out, clutching the wall to steady myself. Before I knew it, Xavier's arms were around me, his touch firm and steady, pulling me upright as the world seemed to spin.

"Sienna, are you okay?" His voice was close, filled with concern.

His hand pressed against my arm, sending a sting of pain through the bruised skin hidden beneath my sleeve. I winced, trying to hide it, but he noticed instantly. His gaze sharpened, and he shifted his hand to see what had caused it. "You're bleeding," he said, his tone shifting from concerned to urgent. "How did you injure yourself?" He reached to examine the bruise, but I pulled away, pressing my hand over the wound to shield it from view.

"It's nothing," I mumbled, looking away, hoping he would let it go.

But Xavier wasn't about to drop it. "Sienna, what did this?"

I forced myself to shrug, keeping my voice steady. "A glass cut me,"

"A glass?" he repeated, eyebrows raised in skepticism. He gestured toward the small patch of blood seeping through the sleeve of my scrubs. "Sienna, that doesn't even make sense. There's no way a glass could cut you there on its own. Tell me the truth."

My stomach twisted with anxiety, but I kept my expression as neutral as I could manage. "It's really not a big deal, Xavier. Just... let it go, please."

He narrowed his eyes, stepping in front of me as I tried to pass. "Let it go?" His voice had dropped, low and serious. "You're hurt. And lying about it."

"I told you, it's nothing." I tried again to step past him, but he blocked me, his face now set with unmistakable resolve.

"Xavier, let me go."

He didn't move. Instead, he planted himself more firmly in my path, his gaze intense. "Sienna, is Tristan hurting you?"

The question hit me like a punch. I stared at him, my heart pounding as a mix of shock and disbelief. "What? Why would you even think that?" I tried to keep my tone controlled, but it came out sharper than I intended.

Xavier's jaw clenched. "Because I know you. I know when you're hiding something. And I'm looking at a fresh wound that you're clearly too scared to explain. Just tell me the truth."

"I am telling you the truth," I snapped, frustration edging into my voice. "You're reading into this way too much, and it's not your business."

His mouth pressed into a thin line, but he didn't back down. "Not my business?" He shook his head. "Sienna, if you're being hurt..."

"Tristan isn't hurting me, Xavier," I said firmly, forcing the word out even though it tasted bitter on my tongue. "He would never."

"Then what happened?" he pressed, taking a step closer. "Because that's not a simple cut. And the way you reacted, you're covering up something. If it's not Tristan—"

"Let it go," I repeated, forcing myself to meet his gaze with what I hoped looked like conviction. "This isn't your concern."

His eyes searched mine, frustration etched into his face. "Sienna, I just want to know you're safe."

I shook my head and moved to walk past him, desperate to escape this conversation. But he stepped in front of me again, blocking me. His eyes were intense, almost pleading. "Sienna, listen to me," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If something's happening, you don't have to deal with it alone."

"Not everything needs to be your problem, Xavier." I shot back. "This is my life, my problem. I don't need saving."

He stared at me, his frustration evident, and I could see him struggling with his words. I didn't wait for his response, I moved past him and walked away.