Chapter 7
(Grace's POV)
If there was one thing nursing school taught you very quickly...
It was that hospitals never truly slept.
Even during the quietest hours, someone's monitor would beep.
Someone's family would pray.
Someone would cry.
Someone would smile because the worst had finally passed.
As student nurses on clinical posting, our days had become even busier now that examinations were only a few weeks away.
There was hardly enough time to think.
Which was exactly what I needed.
Or so I kept telling myself.
"Grace."
Ada nudged my shoulder as we hurried toward the surgical ward.
"You've checked that patient's blood pressure twice."
I blinked.
"I have?"
She laughed.
"You're usually the most organized person here."
"I didn't sleep well."
"You were studying?"
"...Something like that."
"If that 'something' has broad shoulders and wears military uniforms..."
"My goodness, Ada!"
She burst into laughter.
"I was joking!"
"I wasn't even thinking about him."
She raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't mention anyone's name."
I stopped walking.
"...You're terrible."
"I learned from Mia."
Ofcourse mia
She must just gossip
"I should've guessed."
We reached the nurses' station just as Sister Margaret appeared.
"Miss Zane."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I need you to accompany Dr. Harris to the private wing. One of our long-term patients has visitors, and the nursing staff there could use another pair of hands."
"Yes, ma'am."
Private wing?
That wasn't where student nurses usually spent their clinical hours.
Still, an assignment was an assignment.
I collected a patient's chart and followed Dr. Harris through a quieter section of the hospital.
The atmosphere changed almost immediately.
The corridors were calmer.
Security officers stood discreetly near certain rooms.
The walls were decorated with paintings instead of educational posters.
It felt... different.
As we approached one of the rooms, Dr. Harris stopped.
"You can help check the patient's IV line after they're done talking."
"Yes, Doctor."
I waited outside the slightly open door, giving the visitors their privacy.
Soft voices drifted into the hallway.
A young man's voice.
Weak.
"I'm sorry, sir."
Another voice answered.
Low.
Calm.
Steady.
"You have nothing to apologize for."
My heart skipped.
I knew that voice.
No...
It couldn't be.
Curiosity got the better of me.
Just a little.
I glanced through the narrow opening.
And froze.
General Alexander Reeves stood beside the hospital bed.
He wasn't wearing his dress uniform today.
Instead, he wore a simple charcoal shirt with dark trousers.
Without all the medals and decorations...
He somehow looked even more intimidating.
Yet...
Nothing about his expression matched the image the public knew.
A young soldier, probably no older than twenty-three, lay in bed with one leg heavily bandaged.
His shoulders were slumped.
His eyes carried the frustration of someone who desperately wanted to stand but couldn't.
Alexander quietly pulled a chair closer.
Then...
To my surprise...
He sat.
Not above the young man.
Beside him.
"So," Alexander said.
"I heard you've been refusing physiotherapy."
The soldier looked away.
"It won't matter."
"It will."
"My career is over."
A brief silence filled the room.
Alexander didn't interrupt.
He simply waited.
Eventually, the young man whispered,
"I let everyone down."
Alexander leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
"When I was twenty-six..."
The soldier looked up.
"So was I."
I frowned slightly.
Alexander never seemed like someone who talked about himself.
"I spent nearly eight months recovering after an operation."
The soldier's eyes widened.
"You... did?"
Alexander nodded once.
"I was told there was a chance I would never return to active duty."
"What happened?"
"I recovered."
"How?"
Another pause.
Then Alexander answered with complete honesty.
"One painful day at a time."
The room fell silent.
"You know what courage is?" Alexander asked.
The young soldier shook his head.
"Courage isn't running toward danger."
"It's choosing to get out of bed tomorrow even when today hurts."
The young man's eyes became glassy.
"I don't know if I can."
"You don't have to know."
Alexander's voice remained gentle.
"You only have to try."
No speeches.
No dramatic promises.
Just quiet encouragement.
The soldier wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
"...I'll attend physiotherapy."
Alexander nodded once.
"Good."
The young man managed a tiny smile.
"Will you check on me again?"
"If I'm in the city."
"You promise?"
"I don't make promises I can't keep."
The soldier nodded softly.
For the first time since I'd seen him...
He looked hopeful.
A nurse entered carrying medication.
I immediately stepped aside so she could pass.
Alexander stood.
He thanked every nurse in the room.
Every single one.
Not because anyone was watching.
Simply because he meant it.
One of the older nurses smiled after he left.
"He always does that."
I looked at her.
"He visits often?"
She nodded.
"Whenever one of his soldiers is admitted."
"Does the media know?"
She smiled knowingly.
"If they did, we'd have reporters camping outside."
She lowered her voice.
"He prefers it that way."
Something stirred inside me.
The newspapers always described him as cold.
Heartless.
Emotionless.
Yet the man I'd just watched had patiently listened to a frightened young soldier for nearly half an hour.
Not once had he looked at his watch.
Not once had he rushed him.
I suddenly wondered...
How many other things had people gotten wrong about him?
"Miss Zane?"
I turned quickly.
Dr. Harris handed me the patient's file.
"The IV?"
"Oh... yes."
Thankfully, years of practical training took over.
I checked the drip.
Recorded the observations.
Adjusted the flow under supervision.
Professional.
Focused.
Almost.
Because every few seconds...
My mind wandered back to the conversation I'd just witnessed.
After finishing, I thanked the staff and stepped into the corridor.
The hallway was empty.
Alexander was already walking toward the elevator at the far end.
For a brief moment...
I considered pretending I hadn't seen him.
After all...
He hadn't seen me either.
Or so I thought.
Just as the elevator doors opened...
He turned.
Our eyes met across the corridor.
My heart forgot how to function.
He looked surprised.
Only for a second.
Then he gave the smallest nod.
Professional.
Respectful.
Nothing more.
I smiled awkwardly and returned the gesture.
Before I could decide whether to walk over...
The elevator doors began closing.
He stepped inside.
And disappeared.
I stood there staring at the closed doors.
"...Grace."
I sighed.
"You've officially become strange."
"Talking to yourself now?"
I jumped nearly a foot.
Ada stood behind me holding two patient files and trying very hard not to laugh.
"You scared me!"
"I've been calling your name."
"I was thinking."
"I noticed."
She leaned closer.
"You were looking at the elevator like it stole your lunch."
I laughed despite myself.
"It didn't."
"So..."
"So?"
"What were you staring at?"
I hesitated.
Then smiled softly.
"I think..."
"What?"
"I judged someone too quickly."
Ada tilted her head.
"That's unlike you."
"I know."
As we walked back toward our ward, I couldn't stop replaying the scene in my mind.
The quiet patience.
The gentle encouragement.
The way he thanked every nurse.
The way he never once acted like his rank made him more important than anyone else in the room.
Perhaps...
The world only knew General Alexander Reeves.
But today...
For just a little while...
I had met Alexander.
And somehow...
That felt like meeting someone entirely different.
That evening, after dinner, Dad noticed me smiling as I helped him arrange his medications.
"What is it?"
"Hm?"
"You've smiled at least five times in the last ten minutes."
"Have I?"
He chuckled.
"I may be getting older, Grace, but I still notice these things."
I smiled sheepishly.
"I just had... an interesting day at the hospital."
"Ohh God why is he the only thing on my mind these days" it was as if her world has already revolved around him
I thought
He studied me for a moment before nodding.
"I'm glad."
"So am I."
For reasons I couldn't quite explain...
The memory that stayed with me wasn't the General everyone feared.
It was the man who quietly sat beside a frightened young soldier...
And reminded him that healing was its own kind of courage
Maybe...
The strongest people weren't always the loudest.
Sometimes...
They simply stayed until someone believed in themselves again.