𝑺𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑴𝒆 | Myoui Mina

𝐂𝐇 • 𝟒𝟏

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Y/n stretched lazily in her chair, still feeling the slight warmth of Mina's kiss on her forehead. The relaxation from that moment began to ebb away as she turned to the work in front of her. She knew she had a patient to review—a complex case waiting for her.

Surgery was inevitable, and with each passing day, Y/n was painfully aware of how her own heart was growing weaker.

But it wasn't just her physical health that weighed on her.

It was the looming uncertainty—could she still operate? Especially on this critical case? Would her hands be steady when it mattered the most?

Shaking off the lingering fatigue, Y/n stood up slowly and walked over to her desk, her fingers brushing the edge of her tablet before she sat down in front of her computer.

The screen flickered to life, revealing medical files and case notes, but her eyes barely registered the words. As her gaze settled on the patient's details, a wave of apprehension hit her, making her stomach clench.

She tried to focus—tried to push through. Her mind flipped through the details of the surgery she was planning for the patient, but her thoughts kept circling back, gnawing at her.

What if I can't do it?

Her chest began to feel tight, constricted. She tried to take a deep breath, but the air felt shallow, like it wasn't reaching her lungs.

Her heartbeat picked up, starting off as a quick thud and gradually growing faster, harder, until it pounded against her ribcage with a force that made her hands tremble.

Her vision blurred for a second, and she blinked rapidly, trying to regain focus, but the dizziness followed her, creeping in like a fog.

I'm not ready for this... I'm not ready...

The thought spiraled, and before she could catch it, the panic hit her full force. Her fingers curled around the edge of the desk, knuckles white as she clung to something solid in the midst of the storm brewing inside her mind. It felt like her heart was trying to escape her chest, each beat erratic and out of control, as if someone had flipped a switch that wouldn't turn off.

Her breathing grew quicker, more shallow, and her hands, now slick with sweat, shook violently. The room seemed to close in on her, and every rational thought felt far away, unreachable.

What if I collapse during surgery? What if my heart gives out before I can even pick up the scalpel?

She tried to breathe deeply, like she had practiced before, but it felt impossible. Her breath hitched, and a sharp pang shot through her chest, not from her heart condition, but from the tightening grip of anxiety. Her throat constricted, and she felt like she was suffocating under the weight of her own fear.

She leaned forward, elbows on the desk, her hands gripping her hair. She could feel her pulse in her temples now, rapid and relentless. Her mind was racing, faster than she could control, the doubts louder and louder with each second that passed.

I can't... I can't do this. What if this is the last surgery I ever perform? What if something happens during the procedure, and I can't help my patient?

Her chest ached from the sheer force of her panic, her body screaming for air she couldn't seem to draw in. Her vision started to darken at the edges, and the overwhelming sensation of losing control flooded her senses.

It felt like drowning, like being trapped underwater while everything else around her moved normally.

Breathe.