A story of unexpected love that grew in the hearts of immature couple, seeking their different paths and goals, not knowing how deep will they fall for each other and will choose to fly their different paths together as two matching birds that compl...
The smell of coffee fills the place. A painful calm of the ears, interrupted by the ticking of the clock, when you look at the sofa that almost cries from the length of sitting on it - that twenty-four-year-old man - you find him absent-minded, distracted by excessive thinking from drinking his coffee, which is still the same as it is in hours. Sometimes happy thoughts pass by him, such as solving disputes between his family, which no one was able to solve them except him so he felt strong, and so he passes by a sense of pride when his eyelids rise slightly and these brown eyes move, so you see his mother smiling and her face fills with happiness and so he feels warm and reassured. And so he feels let down when he remembers the friends who he always remembered that they really loved him, but where are they now?
"They say so much about you . you are handsome they say, yet noone seems to be looking . You are kind they say , but where is that kindness when it comes to yourself. You are a good doctor.. oh actually medicine is your game. But how come you cant fix your feelings.." said the young doctor Adam with a stormy mind that is keeping him from drinking his cold coffee and going to attend the shift he has.
The noise of the clock is finally interrupted with the sound of the heavy brown door , a door with alot of locks , like anyone would ever get pass the gate of the building anyways! .. that 10 story building . With only 1 apartment inhabited. In that building the young doctor is seen going in a rush. With wide and fast paced steps . His fit legs are seen moving steadily and balanced with his moderately fit arms swinging synchronised with his feet taping the floor of the golden elevator. Entering the big building entrance and pulling the black metal gate open to finally escape the dorm of his depression. Walking the narrow street in the simple area he lives in. Where villas and trees predominate. These fast paced legs in the black scrubs walking freely passed the street with a 100 steps in under 3 minutes to reach the banks of the river, crossing the bridge to the other side to reach entrance of the icu.
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Dr. Adam walked briskly back to the ICU, the weight of his white coat a reminder of the path he had chosen. His heart quickened as he reached the familiar doors, now a doctor on the inside, not just a student observing from the outskirts. Yet, when he exchanged brief greetings with a colleague, he couldn’t recall the man’s name. Was it because this was his first year, still a stranger in a sea of faces? Or was it simply his poor memory when it came to names that didn’t yet hold meaning?
Why bother remembering names of those who would fade from his life in a few weeks, months, or maybe a year? People who sought something from him—interest, benefit, perhaps even respect—but never connection.
Stepping into the cool air of the ICU, he felt a fleeting relief, the crisp breeze offering a brief escape from the relentless heat outside. But with it came a sense of dread, the weight of what lay ahead. The suffering, the struggle for life—it was all waiting for him behind those sterile walls.
Doubt gnawed at him as he walked down the corridor, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. Was this truly the specialty he wanted? The final decision loomed over him, unresolved. There was a battle within him, a tug-of-war between the curiosity to uncover what was wrong and the desire to fix it, and the deep, unsettling compassion he felt for those who suffered. The clash of curiosity and empathy left him questioning his future, unsure of the path he should follow.
"Good morning, everyone. I hope you're all doing well. Silly as it might sound, I genuinely mean it—I hope everyone is okay," Dr. Adam said to his colleagues, addressing the nurses, senior doctors, and his fellow junior doctors. His gaze drifted over the ICU, taking in the steady rhythm of ventilators, the constant beeping of monitors, the ECG machines on standby, and the seven beds, four of which were occupied by patients clinging to life.
Some patients teetered on the edge between life and death, while others were on the brink of being discharged from the ICU. "So, what do we have today?" Dr. Adam asked, curiosity lacing his voice. This was his first time in this ICU, and the unfamiliar cases intrigued him.
He opened the first file and was immediately drawn to the details of a 17-year-old girl. She had been living with diabetes since she was four years old, and now she was suffering from diabetic ketoacidosis after missing an insulin dose. Her condition was further complicated by an infection—hepatitis. The file outlined numerous complications and the extensive care she required.
"I’ll check on this girl and take care of her," Dr. Adam decided, a sense of responsibility mingling with his curiosity. He wondered about the girl’s inner world—her hopes, her dreams. What had she felt when she first fell ill? Had the pain in her abdomen overwhelmed her, or was she more frightened by her diabetes spiraling out of control? Was the thought of being in the hospital, in the ICU, what scared her most? What frightened her more— the disease itself, or the sharp sting of a needle, just as he had feared when he was a boy?
Maybe, just maybe, they shared the same fears, the same anxieties. After all, the inner child within each of us remains unchanged. Life’s struggles may shape us, molding our personalities and transforming us into different people. But at our core, we remain the same—the same child, the same feelings, the same purity.
"Hi there, little girl. How are you doing? You're not so little after all," Dr. Adam said warmly as he approached the young patient. "But I'm here to take care of you. My name is Dr. Adam, and I'm here to check your vital signs. I'm going to measure your blood pressure. I hope you're eating well, drinking your juice, and finishing your meals."
He smiled as he spoke, noticing the girl's eyes light up with relief and happiness at his words, especially when he added, "You seem to be recovering faster than we thought. I think you might even be discharged today."
The girl's smile widened, the tension in her small frame easing as she processed the good news. Dr. Adam gently wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm, feeling the soft resistance as he inflated it. The mercury in the sphygmomanometer began to rise, and he watched closely, releasing the pressure slowly until he could read the gauge. The numbers fell within the normal range, just as he had expected.
"Oh, thank God," he said, a note of genuine relief in his voice. "Everything looks good. Your liver enzymes are fine, your blood glucose levels are stabilizing, and your acid levels are going down. You're practically a normal, healthy girl now. Why are you even here, huh?" he teased, injecting a bit of humor to lighten the moment and bring a smile to her face.
After finishing up with the young patient, Dr. Adam turned his attention to the next cases on his list. Two elderly patients lay in beds side by side—a 60-year-old man and a 70-year-old woman. Both were in grave condition, suffering from internal brain hemorrhages. They had lost control of their bladder and bowel functions, and the paralysis of one side of their bodies had robbed them of their mobility. Even more tragically, the brain damage had stripped them of the ability to feel emotions.
Dr. Adam stood at their bedsides, feeling a wave of conflicted emotion. "I don’t know if I should envy them or mourn them," he thought to himself. "They can’t feel pain, but they also can’t feel happiness. They can’t experience sadness, nor can they feel what I’m feeling right now. But I still hope they get better. Soon."
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the vibration of his phone. He stepped into the resting room, letting out a sigh of relief as he sat down. The notification on his screen was just the beginning—a small alert that would soon change everything, a single moment that would alter the course of his entire life.
