The Clinic Novels & Stories

Bianca’s POV The clinic smelled like antiseptic and old money—sharp, clinical, expensive. I’d chosen this place deliberately: forty minutes outside the city, tucked behind a row of tasteful evergreens, the kind of private lab that catered to celebrities who didn’t want their paternity scandals splashed across tabloids. No neon signs, no crowded waiting rooms full of sniffly kids. Just polished marble floors, soft leather chairs, and a receptionist who didn’t ask questions when I handed her my black card.

I nod my head, I don't know how else to assure her. My "Eat on, I'll see you later. Hilda would see to your lunch." ***** As I approached the clinic, I can not help but notice how serene it appears, almost like a haven of peace cradled amidst the bustling city. Its exterior was a testament to calmness and healing but for me, a business center. The building itself is an elegant structure, adorned with creeping vines that cascade down its walls, painting a picture of nature's harmony against the cold, urban backdrop and from afar, I can see the huge name shaped in what looks like shiny glass, Willoughby Clinic.

“There’s a clinic in the building.” Clara paused. “In the building?” she repeated, her brows pulling together in surprise. Luca nodded once. “Well-equipped.” For a second, she just stared at him. “Fine,” she muttered, reaching for her bag. “Let’s go.” The clinic was quiet, tucked neatly into one of the lower floors. Clara sat on the examination bed, her posture composed but her fingers loosely intertwined in her lap. The earlier tightness had faded, but the memory of it still lingered faintly in her chest.

“We're going to make a quick stop at a clinic.” “Leah, can we just go to the hospital? We can do that later.” “The sooner we get this done, the faster we can get you to your precious hospital,” Leah insisted. Anna sighed at Leah's tone. It was pointless. She might as well just get it done quickly. Within minutes, they were pulling up to a clinic. Apparently, it was run by a friend of Leah's. Anna stepped out of the car, glancing up at the modest clinic building before following Leah inside. The space was quiet with sterile white walls softened by muted artwork and the faint scent of antiseptic.

My ex-boyfriend was banished from his pack. He begged me to let him hide out at my neutral clinic for five days. We had been together for four years. For old times' sake, I gave him a temporary access code. The day I wrapped up an emergency house call for another pack and rushed back to the clinic overnight, I couldn't get the door open no matter what I tried. I rang the doorbell. Slippers shuffled inside, followed by a woman's impatient voice. "Who is it? Don't you know pregnant women need their rest at night?" The door cracked open, the chain lock still in place. A heavily pregnant stranger stood there wearing my white coat, glaring at me with undisguised co

There was no return address, no stamp, just her name written on the front in a firm, steady, and familiar hand—a handwriting that no longer trembled from neurotoxins or guilt. ​She took the envelope and signaled for her assistant to leave her alone. ​With steady fingers, Clarissa broke the seal and pulled out a single sheet of heavy cream paper. Attached to the top was a photograph of a small, sunlit medical clinic in a low-income district of Jakarta—a facility dedicated to treating low-income families suffering from chemical exposure. ​Below the photo was a short, handwritten note: ​“Clara— ​The foundation's first clinic opened its doors today. I am working here as a volunteer administrator

Few also greets Adrian politely. They also sees three groups of four bailif walks around and sometime buying things from the stalls. " What is that ?" Mr Leng ask as he can see a a long building from bricks in white and red paints . " That's the market's clinic . four doctors are working in it with four nurses . There are ten rooms for the patient to rest. The doctors and nurses works in two shifts. Morning to evening . Evening to an hour after midnight. Their house just behind the clinic .

The clinic is on the outskirts of the road, and the building looks old, but the interior is exquisite when we enter inside. "Miss Kayshila, Doctor Silva is waiting inside." The receptionist who was sitting on stand-by near the entrance told me. I got up from the comfortable sofa in the clinic. Unaccompanied by the receptionist, I entered the room, which was quite spacious. The floor was covered by a thin carpet that looked freshly maroon. The room smells of aromatherapy which soothes the mind. Doctor Silva was waiting on the sofa, not at her desk. She seemed to be flipping through the files and reading them seriously before gree

People started lining up at the reception desk to make an appointment for a consultation. Amelia faced Nathan, Sabrina and Gamma Joseph proudly, declaring, “You see? Whatever Claire’s rank, her abilities are without question. And her presence here has turned this clinic around! We’ve never had more patients.” And it was true. Before Claire arrived and her abilities emerged, the clinic had been steadily losing patients to a nearby hospital. Though Nathan had offered continued financial support, not enough people had been coming to the clinic to keep it afloat for much longer. Now that Claire was here, the

He just works, the quietness stretching between us like a taut wire. The clinic isn't a hospital. It is a private facility tucked away in the hills, surrounded by high walls and security cameras. Inside, it smells of lemon antiseptic and cold air. We are ushered into a private room immediately. It is sterile. White walls. Stainless steel instruments. A bed covered in crinkly paper. "Undress from the waist down," the nurse says, handing me a paper sheet. "The doctor will be right in." César sits in the chair in the corner. He watches me. He doesn't offer to help. He just watches as I awkwardly shimmy out of my underwear and cover myself with the paper.