The pediatric wing was unusually quiet for a Friday afternoon.
Too quiet.
Which usually meant chaos was waiting around the corner.
Darrell Woods walked through the hallway balancing three patient charts, iced coffee, and absolutely no patience for unnecessary conversation.
Today’s outfit looked effortlessly polished despite the long shift:
© Lavender pediatric scrubs with fitted white long sleeve underneath.
© Light gray running shoes with lilac accents.
© Soft pink makeup with glossy lips and feathered eyeliner.
© Dark hair styled into a bubble braid ponytail.
© Tiny silver butterfly earrings.
© Pastel purple claw clip attached to her pocket.
© Delicate layered bracelets.
Several nurses stand as she passed.
“How does she look awake?”
“I’m starting to think she’s medically powered by caffeine and intimidation.”
Darrell heard both comments.
She chose violence through silence.
At the nurses’ station, Matt Collins stood reviewing surgical reports while rubbing exhaustion from his eyes.
He looked worse than usual today.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Dark circles shadowed beneath his eyes, and his jaw stayed tense like he hadn’t relaxed in days.
Today he wore :
ÞDark blue surgical scrubs.
ÞCharcoal zip-up jacket pushed to his elboes.
ÞBlack sneakers.
ÞSilver watch.
ÞSlightly messy hair from repeatedly running his hands through it.
Darrell placed a coffee beside him.
“You look terrible.”
Matt accepted the coffee immediately.
“Good morning to you too.”
“it’s three in the afternoon.”
“Exactly.”
Before Darrell could reply, a nurse hurried toward them.
“Dr. Woods, Rom 312 needs you.”
Matt’s expression changed instantly.
Subtle.
But noticeable.
Darrell caught it immediately.
“What’s in 312?”
The nurse hesitated. “New admission. Eight – year- old cardiac observation.”
Matt looked away first.
Interesting.
-
Room 312 felt quieter than the rest of the pediatric floor.
Inside, a small boy slept peacefully beneath dinosaur blankets while monitors beeped softly beside him.
And sitting neat the bed-
Was his father.
He looked young. Maybe early thirties.
Exhausted eyes.
Wrinkled hoodie.
Coffee- stained jeans.
The kind that sleep couldn’t fix.
The man immediately stood when Darrell entered.
“Is my son okay?”
Darrell softened slightly.
Not everyone noticed, but parents always did.
“he’s stable,” she reassured gently. “We’re monitoring his heart rhythm overnight.”
The father nodded, but worry still consumed his face.
“I just-“ He stopped, exhausted. “I didn’t know who else to bring him to.”
Darrell checked the monitors carefully before crouching slightly near the child.
“Hey, Lucas,” she said softly. “Can you hear me?”
The boy blinked awake slowly.
His tiny voice came out sleepy. “Are you a real doctor?”
Darrell looked serious. “Unfortunately.”
Lucas giggled weakly.
From the doorway, Matt watched silently.
He wasn’t supposed to stop there.
He told himself that twice.
But something about Room 312 always made him pause.
Because years ago-
He had sat in a hospital room exactly like this holding newborn Alice Collins while doctors explained her heart condition.
And hours later, his wife left.
Just like that.
No dramatic fight.
No screaming.
Only fear.
She said she couldn’t live every day terrified something would happen to Alice.
So Matt stayed.
Alone.
Darrell glanced toward the doorway, noticing him immediately.
“You planning to stand there all day.”
Matt crossed his arms. “You looked busy.”
“You’re staring again.”
“You’re observant again.”
Lucas looked between them curiously.
“Are you married?”
Both doctors answered instantly.
“No.”
The child frowned dramatically. “You should be.”
The silence afterward nearly killed the nurse standing outside.
-
By evening, the pediatric floor became busier again.
Darrell finally escaped to the staff lounge carrying instant ramen and a yogurt drink.
Her after – shift outfit looked cozy compared to her earlier professional look:
© Oversized cream knit sweater falling off one shoulder.
© Black flared jeans.
© Chunky beige sneakers.
© Soft brown makeup with smudged mascara from exhaustion.
© Loose curls clipped halfway back with pearl pins.
© Heart- shaped necklace resting against her collarbone.
She had exactly twelve peaceful seconds before Matt entered.
“You disappeared every time paperwork appears.”
Darrell pointed chopsticks at him. “And yet you still find me.”
Matt stole one of her Fish cake without permission.
Bold.
Dangerous behaviour.
“You look less homicidal today, “he noted.
“I had caffeine.”
“That explains it.”
Before Darrell could threaten him verbally, the lounge door burst open dramatically.
“DARRELL!”
Tiny footsteps followed immediately.
Alice Collins ran inside holding coloring books almost bigger than herself.
Behind her, a nurse looked exhausted. “She escaped pediatric daycare again.”
Alice proudly ignored this information.
Today she wore :
© Oversized mint- green hoodie with tiny clouds.
© Pink leggings.
© Rainbow sneakers with flashing lights.
© Curly hair in braided pigtails tied with heart clips.
© Tiny cardigan hanging halfway off one shoulder.
She climbed directly beside Darrell like it was routine already.
Matt sighed. “I’m starting to think she likes you more than me.”
Alice gasped dramatically. “Daddy , don’t be jealous.”
Darrell nearly laughed into her ramen.
Alice suddenly looked at Matt seriously. “Did you eat lunch today?”
Matt blinked once.
Darrell smirked immediately.
“You forgot again, didn’t you?”
“I was busy.”
Alice crossed her tiny arms. “That means no coffee for punishment.”
The nurses outside the lounge silently watched the pediatric surgeon- one of the most feared men in the hospital- lose an argument to a five- year old.
Darrell rested her chin against her hand, clearly entertained now.
And for the first time in weeks-
Matt laughed properly.
Not forced.
Not polite.
Real.
The sound caught Darrell off guard.
Because beneath the exhaustion, stress , and constant pressure…
Ha suddenly looked lighter.
Human.
And somehow, that was far more dangerous than the cold surgeon everyone feared.
TO BE CONTIUED…
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