The Waiting Room Novel Novels & Stories

He'd yet to finish, but she pushed the door open with malice, wanting to see him panic. However, he remained calm. His eyes were like an unfathomable abyss—she didn't see the slightest flicker of emotion in them. "You need to knock before entering someone's room," Wilson Quill said coldly. He was just a steward, yet his tone carried the dominance that belonged only to someone accustomed to being in a position of power. Ivory raised an eyebrow and mocked, "You should've locked your door if you wanted to do something so shameful. Besides, this is my home. Why should I knock?"

I allowed for myself to drift off into a deep sleep, or into deep thought. The waiting room wreaked of the overuse of alcohol disinfectant. The phones were constantly ringing, and the loud click of the door opening into the lobby brought on an increasing migraine. Melanie jittered her foot uncontrollably and shook from either her nerves or the unreasonable chilliness of the waiting room, "Thanks for inviting me to your doomsday, but you could've at least gave me warning how freakishly cold it is in here." I shrugged my shoulders, "I guess the coldness kills germs."

"Mr. Johnson, who's Mr. Rivera asking you to check on? Maybe I know them." "Oh, right. You're all from Walden College. It's a woman whose name is Rowena Colson." He even helpfully flipped the printed photo over for me to see. The young woman in the image wore a pale layer of powder, but a dark birthmark clung to her skin like a monstrous claw, impossible to ignore. Ewan was looking for me! The thought lodged in my chest like a thorn, making me increasingly uneasy. So, when I was called into Ewan's office the following noon, I was still a little out of it. While I made his coffee, I could feel the chill in his gaze, threaded with heavy scrutiny.

Someone whose mind had fractured and was simply running on autopilot. "You need to let them work," the nurse said, more firmly now. "She needs room to breathe. You need to come with me." The waiting room was aggressively normal. Beige walls. Uncomfortable chairs. A television playing morning talk shows that nobody was watching. Magazines from six months ago fanned out on a table. The kind of room designed to be institutional and forgettable, except that it was where lives changed. Where people waited to learn whether the person they loved would survive or die.

The waiting room was quiet, filled with the hushed whispers of other families, the beeping of machines, the sterile smell of antiseptic. I sat there, numb, staring blankly ahead, my mind empty. I couldn't think, I couldn't feel, I could only wait. And pray. *** Julian's POV (INTERLUDE) The white was blinding. Everything was white – the walls, the floor, even the air seemed to hum with a sterile, white noise. I blinked, trying to focus, trying to not remember what had brought me here. The fight… Aiden… blood…

THIRD PERSON'S POV Eleanor sat in that cold, sterile waiting room with legs bouncing out of control, hands twisting in her lap. The air was thick with the stench of antiseptic and something else- something metallic, almost like blood. The walls were an unholy shade of pale green, and over the reception desk the clock ticked with maddening precision, carving out each second like a blade through flesh. Eleanor hated that sound. Each tick was every moment wasted-another breath Elon could be losing.

I tell her feeling my cheeks heat in embarrassment. She chuckles. “Yes. No reason to be embarrassed. If you go in there through the packhouse it gets confusing.” She linked her arm through mine and led the way. We went down hallways and through doors I never would have guessed. This is definitely confusing. We make it to a set of double doors and she pushes on them. We enter a white sterile hallway that I know belongs to the infirmary. We walk a little ways further and turn a corner into an open waiting room area. I see Dev, Dawn, Evan, Blake, Nora and Bailey all sitting on the chairs waiting to hear from the doctor. We walk up and I sit in the empty chair next to Bailey and wrap my arms aro

Ronan’s hand brushed mine. I unclenched my fingers and laced them with his. “I’m okay,” I said quietly. “It’s just…" loud in my head.” “We can leave anytime,” he reminded me. “I know,” I said. “That’s… new.” We stepped inside. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The waiting room chairs still formed that same awkward semi‑circle, facing a TV that muttered daytime talk shows. The nurse at the front desk glanced up, eyes flicking over Ronan’s size, Naomi’s hair, Bella’s bouquet, and the car seat.

She left me standing there alone, feeling like someone had reached into my chest and ripped my heart out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The waiting room was cold and sterile, nothing like the private lounges I was used to at our company. Over here, the chairs were stiff and the world was painted with an indifferent shade of white. Time didn't move normally there, instead it crawled. I tried to see it but after two minutes I stood up again to my feet. Moving back and forth felt better to me even if my legs were shaking. I ran a hand over my face as I pressed my palms together so hard that my knuckles cracked.

Since when was she so dirty? Besides, she was about to spend hours organising his office. As the hours passed, her anxiety only grew. Finally, a soft knock came at her door. It was Clara. “Mr. Harrington is sending for you,” Clara said, her eyes holding sympathy. “Best not keep him waiting.” Lila nodded, her legs feeling like lead as she made her way down the hall. She stopped at his office door and knocked. “Come in.” She opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of candles. Mr. Harrington sat in the centre, lounging in a leather chair, the flickering light casting shadows across his sharp features.