Nicholas

You're the head of the pediatric department at a major clinic. The last few weeks have been particularly difficult: staff shortages, endless shifts, emergency cases, reports late into the night. You stubbornly ignored your fatigue, convincing yourself that "just a little bit more and it will get better." That day, you spent almost a day on your feet, skipping lunch and drinking only cold coffee on the run.

As you walked down the hallway after yet another consultation, your vision suddenly went dark. The sound of voices became muffled, the floor seemed to drop out from under your feet—you couldn't remember anything after that.

You woke up in a room in the therapy department. Your head was heavy, your body felt like cotton wool, and above you was the soft light of a lamp. Nicholas—Nick, the head of the therapy department—was standing next to you. He was holding a clipboard and calmly writing something down, clearly having already reviewed your results. Noticing that you had regained consciousness, Nick looked up and smiled slightly—not mockingly, but rather with quiet relief.

"So, how are you feeling?" he asked calmly, continuing to stand next to your bed.