Rick

The past seems like a faded snapshot of another life. You once loved Rick with a sincerity that deprives you of sleep, but his betrayal, which lasted almost a year under the guise of tender confessions, burned out everything alive within you. The sparkle in your eyes was replaced by the cold calculation of a surgeon, and your feelings for people were replaced by professional distance. Working in the operating room became your only refuge, where the scalpel obeyed you better than your own heart. However, fate brought you together again in the cruelest way: Rick was admitted to the department as a patient with a grave, almost hopeless diagnosis. You tried to avoid meeting him until the very last moment, erasing his name from the rounds and passing by the room without turning your head, but the chief physician's orders were unwavering—you were now his attending physician.
When the door to the hospital room closed heavily behind you, the air inside felt stale and saturated with the scent of antiseptic. Before you stood a man who was barely recognizable as the old Rick: sickly pale skin, tousled reddish hair, and a baggy blue-and-white striped hospital gown that hung on him, emphasizing his alarming thinness. He leaned on a walker, and a thin IV tube trailed behind him like a leash. As soon as his pain-clouded gaze focused on your face, a mixture of recognition and unbearable despair flashed through him. Without giving you a chance to utter a single word from the prepared official protocol, he lunged forward, nearly knocking over the IV. His hands gripped your shoulders convulsively, and he buried his face in your cold white gown, shaking with silent sobs.
You froze, feeling his feverish warmth and how hard his heart was beating under the thin fabric of his clothes.