Chapter 4

The logistics department was mainly responsible for purchasing and distributing basic office supplies, so there were not many people.

Other than me, there were a few interns and older employees waiting for retirement.

The person sitting beside me was named Maya. She was a senior-year intern.

She was naturally friendly and efficient. She helped me move my boxes down and clicked her tongue.

"Grace, I heard you transferred to logistics because you wanted to have a baby?"

I lowered my head and kept organizing my things. I did not answer.

Who knew whether she would be like the nurses from my old department, only interested in watching me become a joke and kicking me when I was down?

The silence was awkward, but Maya continued talking as if nothing had happened.

"Honestly, I think that rule is really unreasonable. Don't you think so?

"You and Dr. Stone aren't in the same department. Your work isn't the same either. Both of you being pregnant doesn't really affect anything. I don't know what leadership was thinking.

"But logistics has no future. Grace, what are you going to do after the baby is born?"

"Maya! Don't talk so much!" someone beside her reminded her.

"Have you forgotten the time you complained to leadership about the low pay in logistics and got lectured for an entire morning?

"If it's not our business, don't talk. Do you still want this job or not?"

Maya kept working with her hands, setting up my desk for me while pouting.

"I just think it's unfair. It doesn't affect the department's work. What's wrong with being pregnant?"

I finally looked up at her.

She had a likable, round face.

"It's fine. Logistics is pretty good," I said.

For the next three days, I went to work and came home calmly, doing only what belonged to my job.

There was no more endless overtime. I no longer had to deal with patients. Life did not seem that hard to endure.

Occasionally, people from my old department came to pick up office supplies.

When they spoke to me, they were no longer polite like before.

Instead, their voices carried disdain.

The kind of disdain registered nurses had for logistics staff who were seen as coasting until retirement.

"Grace, it's such a pity that you've fallen this far."

I handed her the supplies with no expression.

"I think it's pretty good."

The young nurse curled her lip.

"I think you're just trapped by the baby. Do you really have to give birth? Pregnancy hormones are terrifying."

But she did not know.

This was not about hormones. It was not even only about this child.

What I wanted was fairness, justice, and true equality.

Not a world where someone could rely on connections and cut off every path I had.

The turning point came on the fourth day.

I had just gotten off work when my phone vibrated.

It was a message on WhatsApp.

Then a second, a third, a fourth.

It vibrated eighteen times in total.

Eighteen messages. That was the exact number of nurses in our department.

Each message represented a difficult problem they could not handle.

Before I could open the chat, the charge nurse called me.

On the other end, the department was in complete chaos.

"Grace Walker, reply to everyone's messages right now! Hurry!"

I tightened my grip on the phone. My voice was quiet but firm.

"Why should I?"