Chapter 36
Sophie
There was something unsettling about times that felt too perfect. It made you anticipate a disruption that would change it all. A shoe to drop. Maybe it was the fact that I’d never felt so happy before, not since before my parents died.
Or maybe it was a premonition.
Well, I was proven right the following Friday after waking up from the most intense night of sex I’d ever had. My body hummed. The sheets were crumpled, and so were my thoughts when I realized I’d woken up later than usual.
Kian was perfect in every single way, but he had one flaw. He refused to wake me up, even going so far as to turn off my alarms. He claimed I needed rest, but I knew it was more likely he was still terrified of my grumpy morning persona.
By the time I got ready and wrestled the Jeep into second gear, the morning already felt like it was out to get me.
The usual calming scents of salt and jasmine were nowhere to be found as I fought against tour buses with eager tourists pressing their grinning faces to the windows while I rushed to the hospital.
The Jeep bucked when I feathered the clutch, and I cursed myself again for not keeping my rental.
A scooter shot past my mirror, close enough that I felt the air move, and I gripped the wheel, focusing on the road.
And just in time too, since a group of tourists—some staring at their phones, others at the sights around them—stepped out into the road, not paying attention to zooming traffic.
“Of course,” I muttered, braking just in time.
A couple with matching backpacks filmed their street crossing, delighted, and I stalled, killing the engine.
“No, no—” I twisted the key again, my foot on the pedal. The Jeep stirred to life and I eased forward.
When I finally arrived, I heaved a sigh and fanned my face, killing the engine.
“I can’t do this gear shit again,” I muttered as I bounced my temple against the window.
Inhaling a deep breath, I jumped out of the car and made my way inside the hospital. At least there, I knew what I was doing.
The moment the elevator stopped at the maternity ward and I stepped out, the sound of babies crying and the smell of antiseptic hit me.
My shoulders instantly relaxed and I pulled my hair up into a tight bun when a nurse I hadn’t met before came up to me, pressing a clipboard into my hands.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“Three admissions overnight.” She jumped right in. “Two waiting.”
“I’m Dr. Sophie,” I said, scanning the board and the names marked with red circles. “I don’t think we’ve met before.”
“Zana.”
And that was the extent of our introduction before I disappeared behind a curtain to find one woman sobbing with delivery pains while crunching on ice chips and another screaming that she’d changed her mind about delivering naturally.
It was going to be one of those days.
By noon, my stomach hurt with hunger, but somehow there was no time to take a break. Babies kept coming like it was a full moon, except the sun was still high in the sky.
However, every time that first cry cut through the air, the moment reset and tears of joy and laughter flooded back in, reminding me why I loved this job.
It was three in the afternoon and I was just about to go out for a quick lunch. I hit the call button and the elevator dinged, sliding open to reveal a woman who looked seconds away from collapsing. I barely caught her in time before her head hit the floor.
“We need help here,” I shouted, the woman’s hands clenched over her abdomen.
She said something in Albanian, her words tumbling fast from her tongue.
“It will be okay, help’s here,” I soothed, but it had the opposite effect.
She kept talking, her voice rising with each word and her hands fluttering now, miming something I didn’t understand. Then her hand returned to her stomach, her face twisting with pain.
“Contractions?” I asked, making a fist and opening it. She shook her head hard. Pointed lower. Then she made a slicing motion across her belly, her lips widening in a silent scream.
I looked around, not a nurse in sight, and I cursed inwardly. Where the hell was everyone?
The language barrier made everything more complicated and it was impossible to know what was wrong with the woman. She didn’t seem far along enough to be in labor.
I helped her straighten, and slowly, we made our way toward the first station where I could at least sit her down and examine her.
I turned to grab my tools when the woman grabbed my wrist with both hands and locked eyes with me. Her voice dropped as she kept repeating the same words over and over again in an urgent tone.
My pulse roared in my ears.
I’d never felt out of place in the hospital, but at this very moment, I did. I was at a loss, searching her face for any signs I might have missed. Sweat traced her temples. Her knuckles were white.
“Lie down,” I instructed, but she couldn’t understand me so I gently pushed her onto her back. Once stretched flat, I pushed her shirt out of the way and felt around the area she’d been cradling. She winced when I reached the right side of her abdomen.
Not contractions. Not labor. This woman wasn’t pregnant.
The curtain opened at that moment and a nurse came in.
“Where were you?” I hissed, more furious at myself than her. “This patient is on the wrong floor. It seems like a ruptured appendix.”
For the next hour, it was mayhem. There was screaming, exchanges in Albanian I couldn’t understand, crash carts being rushed to our station.
It wasn’t until the woman was wheeled off the maternity ward that a fellow doctor explained, “You were right, it’s a ruptured appendix. Bacteria spilled into the abdominal cavity, causing infection and severe pains.”
“What was she doing on this floor?” I muttered, my hands trembling.
He shrugged. “Probably hit the wrong button. It’s a miracle she was able to walk to the hospital.”
He left while I stared at my reflection in the metal cabinet, suddenly aware I’d been skating along with my inability to understand locals. I knew my shit in the delivery rooms and maternity ward, but I didn’t know a single word in this language.
I could have cost this woman her life.
I wasn’t surprised when the head of the hospital came to find me. We’d come to the same conclusion.
Once he left, I closed my eyes, shutting out newborns’ cries while one thought played on repeat in my head.
I should’ve stayed in bed.