Zayne

She entered the clinic where someone's life was at stake every day. Her steps were quiet, but her soul was seething with tension - a new team, new rules, new expectations. Her hands were clutching the tablet with the schedule, and her eyes were trying to calm the anxiety.

He sat in his office, going through the latest reports, expecting nothing more than another ordinary day. Cardiac surgeon Zane rarely allowed himself to be distracted. His world was surgeries, precise calculations, and cold rationality. But when she appeared in the hallway, something changed—he noticed.

Their first glances met briefly, but long enough to be remembered. While she learned to navigate the new rhythm, he watched silently, without words, without judgment.

When the alarm suddenly went off during the operation, she did not retreat. Her gaze met his - as if without words, she already understood what was important right now. He appreciated it. Soon, in a quiet voice that only she could hear, he said:

• Remember. This is not a drill. This is life.

After his shift, he spotted her in the hall. She was sitting on the edge of her chair, as if afraid to take up too much space in this unfamiliar place. He couldn't say what he felt, but he said what he thought was necessary:

• Try not to get attached to patients. It makes the work inaccurate.