Tacenda — things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence.
The following morning, I walked into the hospital with a mixture of emotions swirling inside me. The night before had been a whirlwind, leaving me in a daze. My thoughts were a chaotic mess as I tried to reconcile what had happened. When I finally entered the bustling hospital, I couldn't help but search for Dr. Avery, my mind replaying the events of the previous night.
From the moment I stepped into the ward, it was clear something had shifted. Dr. Avery seemed to go out of his way to avoid me, treating me as if I were invisible. During our rounds, he meticulously engaged with every student except me, his eyes never once meeting mine. The coldness in his demeanor was palpable, each interaction a sharp contrast to the intimacy we had shared.
"Dr. Avery, can you check this patient's vitals?" one of my classmates asked, breaking the silence. He responded with a curt nod and focused entirely on them, leaving me standing on the periphery, feeling an uncomfortable mix of hurt and confusion.
I tried to shake off the feeling, diving into my work with renewed vigor. As I made my way through the day, tending to patients and immersing myself in my responsibilities, his deliberate avoidance gnawed at me. Every time he passed by without acknowledging my presence, it felt like a fresh wound being opened.
During lunch, I joined Chelle and Joy in the cafeteria, their animated conversation providing a temporary distraction from the turmoil inside me. Yet, even in their lively chatter, I found it hard to focus, my thoughts continually drifting back to Dr. Avery's inexplicable behavior.
Stan noticed my distracted state and leaned in. "Hey, you okay? You seem a bit off today."
I forced a smile, trying to mask my inner turmoil. "Yeah, just a bit tired. Long night."
He gave me a knowing look but didn't press further, and for that, I was grateful. Stan's presence was always comforting, but today, even his warm, supportive demeanor couldn't entirely pull me out of my funk.
Meanwhile, across the table, Chelle was engrossed in a playful debate with Joy about the best way to handle a particularly tricky case they'd encountered. As their voices rose in mock contention, I noticed Stan's gaze lingering on Chelle a moment longer than usual. She had a spark in her eyes, a passionate fire that seemed to draw him in.
"Come on, Chelle, you can't be serious," Stan teased, joining their conversation with a grin. "There's no way your method would work better than mine."
"Oh really?" Chelle shot back, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Care to place a little wager on that, Stan?"
Their banter was light-hearted, but there was an underlying chemistry that was impossible to ignore. The way Stan's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her, and the way Chelle's laughter seemed to brighten whenever he was around, hinted at something more than just friendship.
Later in the day, I spotted Dr. Avery in the hallway, talking with another attending physician. Summoning all my courage, I approached him, determined to understand his sudden shift in behavior.
"Dr. Avery, can I speak with you for a moment?" I asked, my voice steady despite the nervousness churning inside me.
He turned, his expression unreadable. "I'm busy right now, Ms. Anderson. We'll talk later," he replied curtly before walking away, leaving me standing there, feeling more lost and confused than ever.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, each moment a struggle to maintain my composure. By the time my shift ended, I was emotionally exhausted, the weight of the day pressing down on me. As I left the hospital, I couldn't help but wonder what had caused this drastic change in Dr. Avery, and what it meant for the future of my training—and for whatever it was that had started between us.
That evening, back at the hostel, I found some solace in the familiar company of Chelle and Joy. We sprawled across our shared room, each of us unwinding from the day's stresses. Joy was engrossed in a book, while Chelle was recounting a particularly humorous interaction she'd had with a patient.
As she spoke, her phone buzzed with a text message. She glanced at it, a smile spreading across her face. "Stan's asking if I want to grab a coffee and go over some notes from today."
"Again?" Joy teased, looking up from her book with a knowing smirk. "You two have been spending a lot of time together."
"It's just coffee," Chelle said, though the blush creeping up her cheeks told a different story. "We're friends."
"Friends who make bets on medical procedures and have coffee dates," I added, nudging her playfully.
Chelle rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "Whatever, guys. I'll see you later."
As she left the room, I couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. Chelle and Stan's budding chemistry was undeniable, and it was heartwarming to see. But it also highlighted the confusion and turmoil swirling in my own heart.
I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the day replaying in my mind. The tension with Dr. Avery, the unspoken attraction, and the professional boundaries that felt increasingly blurred. And then there was the comfort and stability of my friendships, with Stan and Chelle's playful banter offering a glimpse of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic world.
As the night wore on, I resolved to face the coming days with renewed strength. Whatever Dr. Avery's reasons for his behavior, I wouldn't let it derail my focus or my determination. And perhaps, in time, I would find the answers I sought, both in my professional journey and in the tangled web of emotions that had come to define my relationship with him.