Shattered composure

MIRIAM POV 

“No?” I repeated, his response catching me off guard. 

A dry scoff slipped before I could stop it.

Of course.

What was I thinking approaching him for help? I was foolish to expect anything different.

“I'll go and prepare for the surgery,” I said to Mr Gerald, the hospital chairman.

“I'll assist you,” Itzayana offered hastily.

“And who will administer anesthesia if your anesthesiologist is suddenly your assistant surgeon?” Nora asked, her voice laced with a sweet poisonous mockery. Her arms were folded, her eyes locked on mine with theatrical interest.

A smirk tugged at her lips. She was enjoying everything. Enjoying me being at the edge of a cliff.

What a pathetic move.

“I'll handle the anesthesia,” Itzayana cut in sharply. “Can we go, Dr Ford?” 

I glanced at Mr Gerald, giving him a brief nod, beforet following Itzayana out of the conference room.

The moment we stepped inside the hallway, she let out a hysterical laugh. 

“Gosh, did you see the way she looked at you? Those smiles and eyes were terrifying. I swear this mess is screaming her name, it feels like her name is written all over it.”

“You think too much, Itzayana,” I asserted , forcing a smile. I bit my inner cheek hard enough to taste my own blood.

“I'm not thinking too much,” Itzayana defended herself and I just nodded. My mind keep circling that dry smirk on Nora's feature.

I went to the dressing room and prepare for the surgery, changing into my scrubs and tied my long hair in a messy bun. 

After I was done prepping, I went to the theatre. I put on a latex glove and the surgery gown.

I walked towards the patient.

“Who is the anesthesiologist today?” I asked. Glancing up to see everyone in the watchroom — Arden, Mr Gerald …. And Nora, standing at the front, her expression unreadable from behind the glass.

“I am,” a voice replied. “It's Chica. It's an honour to work you, Dr. Ford.”

I didn't spear her a glance.

My eyes were fixed on Nora.

“Likewise,” I answered, shifting my gaze to Itzayana.

I said a short prayer, state the time and began the procedure.

—---

Forty five minutes, I did the last stitch.

“It's 12:57, we are done,” I announced. “Thank you for your hard work.”

I stepped out of the theatre, taking off the latex glove, and disposed it in the dust bin. 

Then I heard — that familiar voice.

“Dr Ford.” I turned. 

Everyone was there — Dr Gerald, Nora, interns, Doctors, … and Arden. 

“You did well,” Mr Gerald praised warmly.

My body stiffened. I smiled back. 

“I'm sorry Dr Ford.” Nora whispered, burying her head low. “I'm sorry, it was my mistake. I should have pay more attention to the surgery. Please forgive me.”

Her eyes breamed either tears.

Liquid is dropping off her eyes.

A laugh almost escaped.

What an actress. I think she made a mistake choosing general surgeon as a career.

She could have won an Oscar with that performance.

“Dr Ford, I know you're mad at me.” She continued, sniffing hard, he voice cracking. “You didn't let me assist because of that. I'm so so sorry.”

Everyone were gazing at me.

Waiting for a response.

“It's fine, Nora,” I managed to say. “I'm not mad at you. I just want to work with someone else today. Please stop apologising, you're making me feel guilty.” 

Her tears disappeared replaced with a pleased smile. “Thank you for forgiving me, Dr Ford. I thought you hated me.” 

“No, I don't,” I lied gracefully with a smile.

I walked away.

—------

I changed scrubs, putting on my coat and went to the watchroom. Locking the door behind me.

I pulled up the security feed from the surgery I had around 11pm. I checked through the timeline and there — it was.

Exactly what I had suspected.

I copied the footage to my phone and deleted it from the system.

I left the watchroom.

—-------

The moment I stepped into my office, my phone rang.

Delano 

I answered but stayed silent.

“Miriam,” His voice laced with concern that irked me.

“What happened at the hospital today? Did you almost killed a patient and not anyone, a daughter of a prominent man and it's all over the news.”

He knew

Of course his little mistress told him.

“And who told you that?” I asked, calmly, clutching my phone tighter. My voice tightened.

“It's on the news. Miriam—” I hung up.

I turned on the television.

And there the news was.

No name mentioned but the narration pointed straight at me. 

My chest tightened. My fingers dug into my phone. My neck tilted involuntarily to the side, a habit I hated but couldn’t stop. My hair fell forward and I flicked it back, my throat suffocating.

“You’re a failed surgeon.”

“Dr. Ford…”

Nora’s voice.

I spun around.

No one was there.

“You’re going to end up alone. Just like her. You almost killed a patient.”

My phone slipped from my hand, clattering on the floor.

My skin crawled. I scratched my wrist, trying to calm myself, trying to breathe.

“Dr. Ford…”

I looked toward the mirror.

And she was there.

Nora.

Standing behind my reflection, smirking.

I didn’t think, I just reacted.

I slammed my hand against the mirror, glass shard under my palm.

“NORA!” I scowled.

“Miriam,”

I turned.

She stood at the door.

My hand closed around the pen on my desk before my mind caught up.

I moved toward her, adrenaline flooding through me—

And plunged the pen toward the artery in her neck.