Chapter 4 The Feelings that Don't Go Away
She kept walking.
“Hey,” Adrian called as he passed her. “Smile a little. Your forehead’s already starting to wrinkle.”
Olive looked at him and smiled.
She had already walked past him when he shouted, “Coffee after duty?”
She turned around just in time to see him wink.
She laughed.
Of all the nurses in the hospital, Adrian was the one she felt closest to. They hadn’t even been hired at the same time—but somehow, it felt like they had known each other forever. She had only worked with him for two years, yet it felt like twelve.
She continued walking—still smiling now, already forgetting the whispers and the looks behind her.
Like any other duty day, Olive followed Dr. Mathilda’s instructions, carrying the list of patients she needed to check. Being scolded had become normal for her. At first, it used to hurt.
She remembered her first month at Dominic Verci Hospital—how she cried in the locker room after being scolded, swearing she wouldn’t stay long. She told herself she would move to a bigger hospital, somewhere better.
But she was still here.
Because she had learned something important—if you didn’t have someone backing you up, if your name wasn’t known, if your family wasn’t powerful, it was hard to move forward in places like this.
She smiled to herself, remembering those days. She had survived them. She had grown.
She finished her rounds exactly at four in the afternoon. Then she remembered Dr. Mateo.
He’s probably waiting.
She walked quickly to his office and knocked before opening the door.
Dr. Mateo was facing his computer, studying what looked like another surgery case. When he noticed Olive, he removed his glasses and stood.
“Come in,” he said, gesturing to a chair. “Sit down. We need to talk.”
Olive sat down slowly, folding her hands on her lap. She tried to look calm, but her fingers kept rubbing against each other.
Dr. Mateo leaned back slightly, studying her face.
“Relax,” he said. “You’re not in trouble.”
That didn’t help much.
He sighed and looked at the folder in his hand. “The patient from Room 302 left earlier than advised. No discharge papers. No notice. That’s already a problem.”
Olive swallowed.
“But that’s not why I called you here,” he continued. “Before he left, he requested to speak to me.”
Her eyes lifted.
“He said a nurse treated him differently. Kindly. Patiently. He didn’t give a name—but he described you.”
Olive’s heart thumped once.
“He said you were the only one who talked to him like he wasn’t just another case number,” Dr. Mateo added. “He said if he ever came back, he would only allow that nurse to assist him.”
Olive stared. “He… said that?”
Dr. Mateo nodded. “That’s why I asked if you spoke to him. I needed to confirm.”
“I just did my job,” Olive said softly. “I didn’t know he felt that way.”
Dr. Mateo watched her for a moment, then smiled faintly. “Not everyone does their job the same way.”
Olive nodded slowly.
“You can go back to duty,” he said. “Just… keep doing what you’re doing.”
She stood. “Yes, doctor.”
As she left the office, her chest felt tight—not from fear this time, but from something else she couldn’t name.
So he noticed.
She walked back into the hallway, her steps slower now, her thoughts louder.
She didn’t know who he really was. She didn’t know where he went.
But for the first time, she realized—sometimes, even small moments stayed with people.
Two days passed, and ever since the unannounced leaving of the patient from Room 302, Olive had become a topic in the hospital.
It was Monday morning. She had just finished checking Dr. Mathilda’s patients and was walking toward the nurses’ lounge to take a short nap before heading home. As she passed a group of women, she felt their eyes on her—quick glances, then whispers.
Aside from the news that she was the last person the man talked to before he left, another story had spread—that she found him bleeding “out of nowhere.” Some called it coincidence. Others didn’t believe in coincidence at all.
They started suspecting her. Saying she might know who hurt him. That maybe the reason he left was because of what Olive told him.
It got worse when, the day after he left, Olive was questioned by police officers.
Now she sat in the lounge, staring at the group still talking. Her chest felt tight. She felt small. Humiliated.
Suddenly, Adrian appeared in front of her and gently covered her ears. “Don’t listen to them,” he said. “Everything they’re saying is nonsense. They simply discuss what they've heard from others. Typical rumors.”
He sat beside her.
“Thank you,” Olive whispered.
Adrian was the only one who truly believed her—that finding the man bleeding on a forest-side road was just a coincidence.
“I just want to disappear,” Olive said quietly. “Or move to another hospital. I don’t think I can stay here anymore.”
She kept her head down. She couldn’t look up—because everywhere she looked, people were talking about her like she had done something wrong. Like she was a criminal.
Adrian lifted her chin gently so she had to look at him.
“Hey, don’t let them affect you,” he said. “You know yourself, Liv. And what they’re saying isn’t even close to the truth.”
Olive forced a small smile. “Thank you, Adrian” she said. Then she stood up. “Anyway, I have to go home."
Adrian didn’t stop her. He just smiled at her, trying to give her comfort. “ Alright. Just call or text me if you need someone to talk to. I am always here.”
Olive nodded and turned away. She walked out looking like someone carrying something too heavy to share.
Olive walked down the hallway slowly, her bag hanging from her shoulder like it weighed more than it should.
Every step felt heavy.
She could still hear the whispers behind her, even when they weren’t there anymore. It felt like the walls themselves were talking about her.
She kept her eyes on the floor.
Don’t cry. Not here.
She passed by nurses she used to greet every day. Some looked away. Some stared. Some whispered again when she walked by.
She felt invisible and exposed at the same time.
Outside, the air felt colder than usual. She hugged her jacket tighter around herself as she waited for the bus. When it arrived, she climbed in and took a seat near the window.
Just like before, she rested her head against the glass.
But this time, there was no music in her ears.
Her mind kept replaying everything— the bleeding man, the empty bed in Room 302, the police questions, the whispers, the looks.
“I didn’t do anything wrong," she whispered to herself.
But saying it didn’t make the weight go away.