Chapter 10 - chapter 10

THE NEXT DAY, I woke up early. I had already made up my mind to take the job. Whatever happens, happens. Who cares if they're siblings? Why should I care?!

I was about to leave my room when my phone buzzed. A message popped up—from my ex's brother.

From: Annoying Laurent 2

Good morning, ssob! Take care. I don't want to lose you yet because I'm still going to marry you, Mrs. Laurent? Mwuah! 😘

Gross.

Mrs. Laurent? My ass! In his dreams! I will never fall in love again—especially not with another Laurent!

From: Brother of my jerk ex

You say "yuck" now, but one day, you might just swallow that "yuck" because you'll fall in love with someone like me. I love you! 😘

I love you? With a freaking emoji? Ew. Disgusting.

"What does this pregnancy test mean, Shaira?!" my Mother suddenly yelled. "Is this yours?!"

"What? You're pregnant?!" That was my brother Shaun shouting.

I was shocked when I heard something break outside my room. It wasn't just one thing—it was a series of crashes, like someone was throwing things and screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Who's the father?!" I heard my Father shout.

"The one you were with yesterday? Is he the father? He looks way older than you!" That was Samuel.

I slowly approached my door, tote bag in hand. I opened it just enough to peek out and saw all my siblings gathered around Shaira's room. Mother and Father were probably inside.

Everything on display on the second floor was shattered. All the picture frames were on the floor. Father must've gone on a rampage from anger.

"We thought you were focused on your studies, but this?! Your older siblings worked hard so you could graduate! Just a few more years left and you couldn't even wait before getting knocked up!"

I closed my eyes, wincing at Father's rage. You could feel his fury in every word, while Shaira kept sobbing and repeating "sorry."

Father never wanted our relatives—those judgmental people—to say he had a daughter who got pregnant too early.

"S-Sorry, F-Father… H-He said he'll take responsibility," Shaira cried.

"He better!" Steven shouted.

"B-Brother, I-I love him. H-He said he'll marry me and take care of us."

My heart broke when I heard that. A bitter smile formed on my lips.

That used to be our dream. I dreamed of being the mother of his children. But now, it looks like that dream will come true—with my sister. All those promises he made to me… he's going to fulfill them with someone else. My sister might even start a family before I do.

To: my jerk ex

Take responsibility for my sister. She's still young and innocent about being a mother. I'm begging you.

Right after I sent that, I got a reply—but I didn't even bother reading it.

"Good morning! You're new here?" a nurse asked as we entered the department.

"Uh, morning!" I greeted back. "Yes, I am. You've been here long?"

"Yep! Been working here for about seven years. I did my internship here too," she said, making my mouth form an O. "And I passed the boards while working here."

Just like Aly—talkative.

Our conversation didn't last long since our shifts were about to start. We had different assignments. I was on patient rounds, while she was assigned to the operating room.

My first stop was Room 501. A young patient with a leg fracture near the knee.

"Hello," I greeted with a smile. "I'm Savvy, your nurse for today. I'll just check the patient."

"Go ahead," the woman watching over the child said quietly.

"Hi, sweetie! What's your name and how old are you?" I asked cheerfully. The kid was adorable.

"I'm Angel and I'm 9 years old," she said sweetly.

"Are you feeling any pain? Does your leg still hurt?"

"Not anymore," she replied in a soft voice.

That made me smile. She was just too cute. But her sweetness reminded me of something else—of my sister and my ex, who were going to have a baby now.

A baby that he and I once dreamed of having together…

After checking on Angel, I continued my rounds. Most of the patients were recovering well and were almost ready to go home.

It was break time, and I was heading to the cafeteria to meet Aly and Sannie—well, her real name is Kinzley. The three of us worked at the same hospital. But as I exited the elevator, I saw chaos—nurses and doctors rushing everywhere.

Which could only mean one thing: multiple critical cases.

Suddenly, a crying mother grabbed me.

"Miss, please help my son!" she begged.

When I looked at her child's condition, my heart dropped. Blood covered his face—he was barely recognizable. My jaw slackened in shock.

"W-What happened?" I asked a fellow nurse.

"Fell down the stairs and hit his head. He lost consciousness and still hasn't w-woken up," she explained. "C-Can you take over for now? I need to call a doctor."

I nodded immediately and took over. The mother kept crying, desperate. My hand instinctively went to the boy's wrist to check his pulse—Shit. No pulse.

If I couldn't save this patient, it would be the first time I ever lost one.

"Miss, switch with me. You're tired," a male nurse offered.

I shook my head. I could do this. He started intubation—he'd been helping the female nurse who called the doctor.

"Please!" I pleaded. "I can still save him!"

The cardiac monitor suddenly beeped—and the line went flat. The mother wailed even louder.

"Miss, let me—"

"Shut up!" I snapped, tears now pouring from my eyes.

But no matter what I did, the boy never came back. The doctor finally arrived—but it was too late.

The pain of losing a patient was unbearable. I leaned against the hospital's terrace railing and shut my eyes. Even though we're just nurses—assistants to doctors—it still hurts when you lose someone under your care.

Then I felt someone wipe my tears.

I looked up and saw Martin.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, concern on his face.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, turning away. I stepped back like he had some contagious disease. He laughed at my reaction.

I just rolled my eyes. I'd heard his laugh many times—but somehow, I always found it cute. Or maybe it's just me.

I wiped my tears, but he handed me his handkerchief. When I didn't take it, he gently placed it in my hand. Only he and my ex had ever done that for me.

"You're actually cute when you cry," he said.

Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?

"You're a terrible gentleman," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Being caring doesn't suit you."

"Wow, I compliment you and that's what I get in return? Where's the equality in that?"

"Nye nye nye! Your face is the only thing equal here!"

He laughed again. "My future spouse is so cute."

Instead of crying over the dead child, he ended up messing with my emotions. The chart said the boy was only 18. Apparently, a classmate pushed him by accident.

"I-I couldn't save him," I whispered—just loud enough for him to hear.

"That's why you're crying?"

I nodded. "It's my first time losing a patient. I did everything I could, but it still wasn't enough. I'm sure he had dreams... but now they're gone. I couldn't save him."

"You can't avoid losing patients. Sometimes, no matter how much effort you give, it just isn't enough," he said, patting my shoulder gently.

I smiled bitterly. "Yeah... just like my love. It wasn't enough to make him stay, to stop him from looking for someone else."

I used to think love was enough. That saying I love you would be enough to make someone stay. But I was wrong. Love will never be enough for someone who's never satisfied.

Because if he was satisfied with my love, he wouldn't have left. He wouldn't have replaced me. He wouldn't have looked for another.

For some reason, the tears came again. I didn't care if he saw me crying. Let him laugh. Let him tease me.

But instead, Martin pulled me into a hug.

He pressed my head gently to his chest, stroking my hair like I was a child.

"It's okay. Don't be shy around me. Cry all you want. Let it out. I'm offering my chest for you to hide in and cry if you don't want others to see you break down," he said softly.

So I let myself cry and cry.

"Do you want me to help you move on from your jerk of an ex?" he asked while I was still leaning on him. "Do you want to try the 10 tips for healing your broken heart?"

"Huh?"

"Do you want to?"

I didn't know how to respond. "10 tips?"

"Yes. 10 tips to heal your broken heart. You can use me if you need help moving on. I'm willing."