TAMING HARRISON COLE

At 4:12 a.m., Jasmine Carter woke to a dark apartment and the silence of a refrigerator that had stopped humming.

She reached for her phone, hoping the problem was a temporary outage. Then she remembered the unpaid electricity bill.

The digital meter beside her door was blank.

Another bill she couldn't afford.

Her phone lit up with a notification from the pharmacy, reminding her of an outstanding balance. Jasmine stared at it for a moment before turning off the screen.

She still had to get to work. Whatever difficulties she was facing, her patients were depending on her.

As Jasmine prepared for work, fragments of the dream kept returning to her.

****

She saw him first by the frozen foods, pushing a cart as if he had never walked out of her life.

She begged him not to leave. They had built a life together, and she couldn't understand how he could walk away from everything they had planned.

"You promised you'd stay.” Her voice broke.

He wouldn't meet her eyes. The man who had promised her forever shifted his weight, muttered something about being late, and walked past her.

She watched until his car disappeared from view, unable to believe he had actually left.

The man who had sworn to stay was gone, and with him went the part of her that still believed. Never again, she thought. Not any man. Not love. Not trust.

****

Jasmine pushed the dream aside and returned to her morning routine. Her small Bronx apartment didn't have much space. She changed into her clothes, packed her neatly pressed scrubs and secured her hair before leaving for work.

The street was already alive, not gently or gradually, but all at once. A bodega on the corner had its lights on, the glass glowing in the early haze. A man stood outside, arguing into his phone. Someone dragged a trash bin across the sidewalk with a scrape that turned every head. Jasmine adjusted the strap of her bag and kept walking, unhesitating, undistracted. The subway entrance loomed ahead, its stairs descending into movement and noise. She tapped her OMNY card and passed through without breaking stride.

The subway platform was already crowded when Jasmine arrived. She boarded the next train to Manhattan, surrounded by commuters who looked as tired as she felt.

She found a small space where she could sit. A shoulder brushed hers. Someone’s bag pressed into her side.

By the time she surfaced in Manhattan, the city had sharpened. The buildings were taller, the streets cleaner, the movement more controlled.

Reddington Medical Center came into view. Jasmine passed through the glass doors and headed towards the front desk.

Cool air greeted her as she entered and the city noise fell away. This was where things made sense, where accuracy mattered and mistakes had consequences.

Jasmine was signing in when Sharon Bennet approached the counter. They exchanged greetings, but Sharon lingered.

"You know you don't have to act like management is always watching."

Jasmine looked up.

"I take my job seriously, Sharon."

"Relax. It's not that serious."

Jasmine held her gaze. “It is to me.” Then she turned and walked away.

The locker room was quiet. Jasmine adjusted her badge and checked her reflection once to be sure nothing was out of place. 

Another day to make sure a life isn't lost, she thought.

The ward was unusually busy that morning. Nurses moved quickly between beds, checking medications and answering calls. Jasmine was preparing a patient's medication when she noticed that the date of birth on the wristband didn't match the chart. She stopped, checked the prescription again and contacted the nurse in charge to resolve the discrepancy before proceeding. It delayed her by several minutes, but she wasn't willing to risk administering medication to the wrong patient.

By the end of the shift, everyone was exhausted. At the nurses' station, they gathered to hand over their duties. Some complained about difficult patients and the workload, while Jasmine listened before offering her own observations. She made sure every important detail was handed over before she left.

"Another long day," a colleague sighed.

Jasmine smiled. "At least we know we did what we were supposed to do."

"And tried to keep up with someone we had to" Sharon added.

"Shaa-rooon!" the other nurses called out.

Sharon gave them a quick, dismissive look and walked away without another word.

By the end of her shift, Jasmine was exhausted. She completed her handover, making sure the incoming nurses had the information they needed, then changed out of her scrubs. She was about to leave when Sharon called her back to the nurses' station.

"There's something you need to see."

The medication administration record belonged to the patient whose identification details she'd questioned that morning.

Jasmine leaned closer.

The record showed that the patient had received medication that afternoon.

Beneath the entry was the name of the nurse responsible.

Jasmine Carter.

She checked the time and medication details again.

"That's impossible," she said. "I never gave that medication.”

Jasmine stared at the screen.

The medication administration record showed that the patient had received the medication at 2:17 p.m.

Beneath the entry was her name.

She checked the patient's identification number, then the medication details.

Everything matched, except she hadn't administered it.

"Open the administration details," she said.

Sharon clicked through the record.

Jasmine leaned closer, her eyes moving over the information on the screen.

"Who entered this?"

"Your login is attached to it."

"My login?"

Sharon nodded. "That's what the record says."

Jasmine shook her head. "I questioned the patient's identification this morning. I didn't administer the medication."

"Are you sure?"

Jasmine turned to her.

"Would I be standing here telling you this if I weren't?"

Sharon fell silent.

Jasmine looked back at the screen. She remembered the discrepancy she'd caught that morning, the time she'd spent confirming the patient's details, and the medication she'd deliberately withheld until everything had been verified.

She had done exactly what she was supposed to do.

So how had her name ended up on an administration record?

"Who was looking after the patient this afternoon?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Then we need to find out."

Before Sharon could respond, a voice interrupted them.

"Find out what?"

Jasmine turned.

Dr. Lawson stood behind them, his expression unreadable.

She stepped aside to give him a clear view of the screen.

"There's a medication entry under my name, Doctor. But I didn't administer it."

He studied the record without speaking.

"When did you discover this?"

"Just now."

"Has the medication been confirmed as administered?"

"We haven't established that yet."

"Then don't make assumptions." He straightened. "Notify the nurse manager. We'll review the administration record and the audit trail, and we'll establish what happened."

Jasmine nodded.

Dr. Lawson looked at her.

"Until we understand the discrepancy, I want you to cooperate fully with the review. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Doctor."

The moment he left, her hands started to shake.