25!It's just fatigue!

Logan

I walked into the hospital with the sole intention of discussing the pending project with Maryanne. I wasn’t in the mood for anything extra. But as I stepped through the main entrance, I noticed a large crowd gathered near the hallway, all whispering and craning their necks toward something, or rather, someone.

Curious, I tilted my head to see.

It was Sylvia.

She stood right at the center of it all, shoulders tense, her face trying to hold strong. A pregnant woman was yelling at her, clearly angry and accusing Sylvia of something serious. My first instinct was to run over and defend her, to pull her out of the madness. But just as I was about to move, I paused.

Sylvia’s voice rose calmly, but firm. She was defending herself with dignity. She apologized over and over, but the woman didn’t want peace, she wanted drama. The last words the woman said had hit Sylvia so hard that she had to speak up for herself.

“Ma’am,” she said, voice clear and loud enough for the crowd to hear, “I am sorry I bumped into you. I did not see you coming, and for that I take full responsibility. But please do not mistake my apology as weakness. I may not have a child of my own yet, but that does not make me any less of a woman, or any less capable of empathy.”

The room went silent. The woman blinked, taken aback.

She continued, “You are pregnant, and I understand that emotions can be high, especially in stressful situations. That’s why I offered you free care, because I care, not because I’m afraid of damage to my reputation.”

Then, a nurse came and gently led the woman away to get checked. The crowd stayed, watching Sylvia like she was some criminal.

I saw her face for a moment, she turned slightly to look at the crowd gathered around her, and there was a distant look in her eyes. Like she was trying hard not to cry.

Then, without saying a word, she turned and walked away, straight to her office.

I couldn’t leave it like that.

I waited a few minutes, then walked down to her office and knocked softly. No response. I knocked again. Still silent. Worried, I gently pushed the door open.

There she was.

Her head was resting on her desk, her shoulders rising and falling slowly. She was fast asleep.

“Sylvia?” I called gently. No response. “Sylvia?”

Still nothing. How could she have fallen asleep so quickly?

She lay slumped over her desk, her head resting on the crook of her arm, papers slightly crumpled beneath her cheek. Strands of her hair, soft and slightly tousled, fell across her face, catching the dim glow of the desk lamp like threads of gold or deep chestnut, depending on how the light kissed them.

Her breathing was steady, calm, lips slightly parted in sleep. The soft curve of her lashes brushed her skin, delicate and serene. Even in her exhaustion, there was a quiet grace about her, like a painting paused in a moment of gentle surrender.

One hand still loosely held a pen, as if she'd only meant to rest for a second. Despite the fatigue in her posture, her beauty remained untouched, peaceful, effortless, and strangely captivating in the silence of that early hour. How could just one person have this type of beauty?

I didn’t want to disturb her, so I sat on the couch near her shelf and waited. She needed rest anyway, and clearly, she hadn’t been getting much. Maryanne hadn’t shown up yet, so I had time.

An hour passed.

Finally, she stirred.

Her head lifted, her eyes still groggy. But the moment she saw me screamed.

“Ohhhhhh! Oh my gosh!” she screamed, clutching her chest. “You scared me!”

I raised both hands. “I didn’t do anything! I was only sitting here,” I said, laughing and surprised by her reaction.

She blinked. “When did you get into my office?”

“About an hour ago,” I replied, half-smiling.

“And you didn’t think to wake me up?” she said, rubbing her eyes and trying to fix her hair.

“You looked really tired. It didn’t feel right to wake you.”

She sighed and waved a hand. “Well, okay. Suit yourself.” She stood up, but after just two steps, she stopped and held her head.

“Are you okay?” I asked quickly, already halfway to her side.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, brushing it off and walking slowly to the water dispenser. “Just lightheaded.”

“Okay,” I said, though I wasn’t convinced.

She drank some water and then turned to me. “So, what are you doing in my office? Do you need help with something?”

“No,” I said, standing straighter. “I came to check on you. You didn’t look fine when I saw you out there earlier. I was worried…..”

I didn’t get to finish.

There was a sudden thud, a loud, hard drop.

“Sylvia!” I shouted.

She had collapsed.

I rushed over and scooped her into my arms, her body limp and her skin pale. I didn’t waste a second, I ran straight out of her office, shouting for help.

“Get a doctor! Quick!”

Three hours later.

She finally opened her eyes. I was sitting by her bedside, tense, watching every movement.

But the moment she came to, she began tugging at the drip in her hand.

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?!” I rushed over and gently held her hand down.

“I’m fine,” she said groggily. “I need to get back to work,” she said while trying to stand up.

“No, you’re not fine, Sylvia! You passed out,” I told her, laying her back on the bed.

“I was just tired,” she said firmly, sitting up. “Overworked. Nothing else.”

I sighed, unsure whether to be relieved or frustrated. “The doctor said it is stress. You need rest. Proper rest.”

She looked at me, her eyes sharp despite her tiredness. “Logan, I’m a doctor too. I know my body. I just need a few hours of sleep and some food. I’ll be okay. It's just fatigue.”

“You passed out on the floor,” I reminded her, lowering my voice. “That’s not nothing. Even if it is fatigue or stress, you still need to rest.”

She placed her hand on mine, just briefly. “I appreciate you being here. I really do. But I’m not weak. I’ve been through worse. This... this is just life reminding me to breathe. I will rest later, there is no way I can clear my name if my patient died on me.”

I stared at her, admiring her strength, even though I hated how much she was pushing herself.

“Please,” she added. “Let me go back. I have patients. I have duties.”

I finally nodded. “Fine. But promise me something.”

“What?”

“Promise me that when all this is over today, you’ll go home. No calls, no emails, no reports. Just rest.”

She smiled slightly. “I’ll try.”

“No, promise.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Okay. I promise, tomorrow is my day off, so I have a lot of time to rest.”

“Okay, that's better.” I helped her sit up properly and handed her her coat.

She was still pale, still tired, but something about her spirit burned bright.

And I couldn't help but admire her all over again.