Begin Again

CHAPTER 2

The second year of nursing was nothing like the first year. There were clinicals, return demonstrations, surprise quizzes that felt like ambushes. She had barely slept, eaten, and now she's speed-walking across campus in her crisp white uniform, clutching a folder to her chest like it could protect her from consequences.

And across from the Health Sciences wing is the Engineering building– a place she rarely had reason to visit.

Not until she cut through it that morning. She turned a corner too fast and collided straight into someone solid. Her folder flew open. Papers scattered like startled birds.

"What the—"

"I'm so sorry!" she blurted at the same time he said, "I didn't see you."

They both froze. She looked at him properly, he was tall. Broad shoulders, slightly messy hair like he had run his hand through it too many times. He was holding a rolled-up blueprint in one hand and a coffee in the other.

The coffee tilted dangerously, and he steadied it just in time. "Engineering reflexes," he said, deadpan.

That made her blink. "... Congratulations?" That made him almost smile.

They crouched at the same time to gather her papers and immediately bump heads. It wasn't dramatic. No background music. No slow motion. Just two exhausted students sat on the hallway floor, surrounded by scattered lecture notes and structural calculations.

He picked up one of her papers. "Drug computations?" he said. "You guys actually calculated those manually?"

"Yes," she said defensively. "So people won't die."

He raised his hand slightly, surrendering. "Point taken. We just build things that collapse if we mess up."

She stared at him. Unbelievable, she thought, "That's not comforting." He handed her the last sheet.

"Eiden" he said

She hesitated a second before replying. "Avaia."

"You always sprint through buildings that aren't yours?" he asked, almost grinning.

"Only when I'm about to fail a quiz"

"What subject?"

"Pharmacology, 10:30"

He checked his watch. "You have 8 minutes." Her eyes widened.

"What? Really?" She scrambled to her feet. He stood too.

"Wrong direction," he said casually, pointing behind her. "Health Sciences, that way?"

She turned, mortified. "I knew that!"

"Clearly."

She shot him one last glare, but there was no real heat behind it. More embarrassment than anger. She started walking quickly, dignified, controlled, not running.

"Hey, Avaia?" he called out.

She turned, already stepping backward. "If you fail, I'm not taking responsibility."

She kept walking. "If I fail," she fired back, "I'm suing Engineering." She said, smirking. He laughed, full and unrestrained, and the sound followed her all the way down the hallway.

Avaia burst into the room, still clutching her now slightly rumpled folder, and slid into her seat. Her heart was pounding— not entirely from the sprint, rather from the fleeting encounter with that grinning engineering man.

Her friend, Mira Arabella, leaned over to her seat the moment she dropped into it. "You look like you ran a code blue," Mira whispered, eyes scanning her flushed face and slightly disheveled uniform. "Or saw someone eye-catching."

Avaia opened her mouth to deny it— automatically, instinctively— but the memory of his broad shoulders, tall physique, annoyingly calm yet irritating smile and banter of Mr. Engineering's reflexes voice flickered back.

"I just bumped into someone," she muttered instead, pulling out her calculator, pen, index flashcards, and a sheet of paper.

Mira's eyes widened dramatically. "Bumped into someone? Or bumped into someone?"

Avaia immediately shot her a look. "It's nothing. It's just an Engineering student"

Mira slowly leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing in dramatic suspicion. "Just an engineering student," she repeated. "You're flushed. Your hair is slightly chaotic. And you're breathing like you ran from a disaster scene."

"I did run from a disaster scene," Avaia whispered harshly. "It's called Pharmacology."

"Mhm-hm"

Before Mira could interrogate her further, the professor entered, heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. The room snapped into silence. "Clear your desks. One paper only and your calculators."

Avaia inhaled. I can do this! She thought. Prayed.

The quiz papers were passed forwards row by row like sealed fates. When one landed face-down in front of her, her pulse drummed in her ears.

"Begin. You have 30 minutes."

She flipped it over.

Calculate the safe dosage of Epinephrine for a patient weighing 200lbs...

Her mind tried, traitorously, just to replay...

You have 8 minutes.

She shut it down. Shook her head and focused back on the questions. Numbers. Focus. Units. Conversions. Concentration. Infusion Rate. Dosage.

Not the messy hair. Not that laugh. Not. Him.

When the class was dismissed, Mira immediately grabbed her arm. "So?"

"I barely survived." Avaia muttered.

"Me too, but that's not what I'm asking."

Avaia rolled her eyes. That's what they were talking about earlier. "It's nothing. He's just an engineering guy I just bumped into because I was careless and in a hurry."

"Name?"

She hesitated for half a second too long, which made Mira gasp. "You got his name."

"That means nothing."

"What's his name?"

"...Eiden"

Mira clutched her chest. "You mean that, Eiden?" Mira whispered, subtly nodding toward the hallway. Avaia followed her gaze.

There he was, leaning against the wall, but not in a showy way. Just... waiting. A few engineering students passed by and greeted him casually. No dramatic entrance. No spotlight. Just the kind of presence that suggested he was competent and people knew it

Mira leaned closer. "He's one of the top students in Civil. And he played basketball during the sports fest last semester."

Avaia narrowed her eyes slightly. "How'd you know that?"

"Because I have eyes," Avaia gave her a glare. "I have friends in the Engineering department."

Before Avaia could respond, Eiden noticed her look. He straightened, not exaggerated, just attentive, and walked over.

"Still alive?" he asked with his taunting grin.

"Barely."

"Good. That would've been bad PR for us."

She crossed her arms. "You're very committed to this lawsuit joke."

"It's legally binding now."

Mira cleared her throat and caught both their attention. "Hi. I'm Mira."

"Eiden."

"Yes, I know. You made yourself popular." That earned a chuckle from him before they shook hands briefly. Normal. Polite.

Mira gave Avaia a look that clearly said," I will interrogate you later and then, conveniently, checked her phone.

"I have class," she announced. "Suddenly," smiling knowingly, before leaving them alone.

Avaia exhaled slowly. "She's a bit dramatic."

"I can tell"

There was a small pause. A bit awkward. Just two people recalibrating.

She cleared her throat. "You were waiting?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Yeah. I had a class nearby a—"

"Engineering's on that way," pointing behind him, on the other side of the Health Sciences building, imitating how he was earlier when they bumped into each other.

"Let me finish," he continued. Then a pastel pink wallet was handed to her. "You dropped this earlier when we bumped into each other."

Avaia blinked. She looked down at the pastel pink wallet in his hand. Her wallet. Her stomach dropped.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, grabbing it quickly and opening it just enough to check. ID. Cash. Student card. It's all there. Relief hit her all at once. "I didn't even notice," she admitted, quieter now.

"Yeah," he said. "You were kind of in a rush."

"You think?" She huffed softly.

"I was going to call out, but you were already speed-walking like your life depended on it."

"It kind of did."

He nodded once, like that made complete sense. "Thanks," she said after a second. Sincerely this time.

"No problem."

A small pause settled between them again, but lighter now.

"So," he said casually, hands slipping into his pockets again, "did pharmacology destroy you?"

"I think I passed."

"That's a typical nursing student's answer."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't celebrate. You just survive and move on."

She considered that. Ever since she stepped into this program and as she's in her 2nd year. She had been somewhat like that. "Well. That's oddly... accurate," she paused before continuing. "You didn't have to come all the way here and just return my wallet. You could've given it to the student council," she said while gesturing vaguely to the Health Sciences wing.

He shrugged. "It's not that far."

"It's literally across campus."

"Still."

She studied him for a moment, trying to figure him out. He didn't seem like he was trying to impress anyone. If anything, he looked slightly amused at how much attention the hallway gave him.

"Anyway," he said lightly, "your lawsuit threat is officially void. I even returned your lost property with the purest sincerity."

She almost smiled. "You're really holding onto that."

"It's legally binding, remember?" He glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. "Do you have anything else today?"

"Just another lecture."

He grinned, annoyingly. "Sounds fun."

She rolls her eyes. "It's not."

"There's a café in front of the building, it's newly opened," he said after a beat. Not overly smooth. "If you're not sprinting tomorrow,"

She hesitated, tomorrow's Wednesday, she had got community duty to attend, just a couple of blocks away from their building. She'll be tired, for sure. She looked at him again, surely not hesitating because of him.

"One coffee," she said finally. "After duty, 3pm?"

"Okay."

"Not long."

"I'm fine with that."

"If I fall asleep mid-conversation, that's on you."

He grinned again. That annoying grin. "I'll consider it a compliment."

She shook her head slightly, but there was the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth. "Try not to lose anything else tomorrow," he added.

"Try not to stand in blind corners."

She stepped aside, giving her space to walk past.

"See you, Avaia"

4:15 a.m.

The alarm didn't just ring. It exploded. Avaia's hand shot out from under her pillow and smacked her phone silently before it could scream again. For three full seconds, she stared at the ceiling, disoriented, body heavy, brain lagging behind reality.

It's Wednesday. Community duty. She sat up immediately. No snooze. No five more minutes, or she'll be late and receive a violation slip for it.

Her room was still dim, dawn barely bleeding through the curtains. She lives alone in her apartment, paid for of course by her loving parents. The air felt cold against her skin as she swung her legs off the bed. Her muscles protested. Her mind started listing tasks before her feet even hit the floor.

Attendance: 6:45 a.m. sharp.

Late = violation.

Three incidents = demerit.

She was not collecting demerits.

5:00 a.m. she was done washing up, already in the small kitchen, hair already tied into a tight low ponytail, sleep still clinging stubbornly to her mind. But she moved efficiently, no wasted motion.

Rice into the cooker.

Eggs into boiling water

Leftover chicken from last night, reheated in a pan.

She packed everything into a rectangular container with mechanical precision. Spoon. Fork. Folded tissue. Tumbler filled with water. Clipboard filled with: vital sign sheet, bond papers, and templates she'll need for later.

Then she opened her fridge again. Bananas and Yakult.

Fuel. Not comfort.

5:45 she was back in her room, pulling on a clean pair of fitted jeans and their prescribed nursing department shirt— white with the word NURSING in the middle. Community uniform. Practical.

She tucked it in, checked herself in the mirror before putting on some light make-up and tying her hair in a slicked bun.

She checked herself again in the mirror after she was done. Hair secure. No stray strands. ID lace around her neck.

6:30 she stepped into the health center. Fifteen minutes early, exactly how she likes it. She made her way to find her group to sign the attendance. Her clinical instructor stood near the desk, clipboard in hand.

"On time," she noted without looking up much.

"Yes, ma'am."

7:00 a.m.

"Vitals first," their clinical instructor instructed. Avaia nodded, grabbed her things immediately and went to her place.

"Good morning," she greeted with a smile—even though they wouldn't be able to see it through her mask— the first elderly woman, crouching slightly to be eye level. "I'll just check your blood pressure."

Cuff wrapped. Stethoscope in place. She listened carefully, tuning out background noise.

"It's 140 over 80," she recorded."Are you taking any medication for your blood pressure?" she continued while assessing.

Next patient.

Blood pressure.

Temperature.

Pulse rate.

Respiratory rate.

Oxygen saturation.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Some hands trembled as she held them. Some were skinny and cool to touch. One would complain about their knees in pain. Referral to the health workers. Vitals.

She listened.

Documented.

Moved efficiently.

By 9:30 a.m. they were less patient, they were allowed to take a short break. She immediately went to her bag, her members following, they weren't talking to each other anymore. At times, they would casually talk about something, but they were hungry so they chose to be silent.

"Prepare for home visits after your break," the CI announced.

She turned to her pair for the home visits, Allie. Allie was already stuffing the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth when Avaia looked at her. "Ready?" Allie asked, muffled.

"Like we ever had a choice?" she asked back, chuckling.

Their clinical instructor gave them the assigned patient for them. They looked for their names. "Mr. Ramirez, post-hospitalization. Stroke"

Avaia nodded but also sighed at their assigned task. Hoping their client will cooperate.

The walk wasn't far, but the sun was already sharp. Prickling their skin. Concrete reflected warmth upward, and tricycle engines hummed past them. Avaia adjusted the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder and mentally rehearsed.

History of past illness.

Biographic data.

Chief of complaint.

Medication compliance.

Diet.

Activity tolerance.

Support system.

"Do you think he'll be cooperative?" Allie asked.

"He doesn't have to be friendly," Avaia replied. "He just has to answer."

Allie snorted softly. "You're intense today."

"I'm graded today," she shot back.

That was the difference.

The house was modest and slightly dim, curtains drawn against the heat. A fan turned lazily in the corner, pushing warm air around a quiet small living room. The television played softly, barely watched. Mr. Ramirez sat near the window, by the couch. Up close, he looked more fragile, thin wrist, shoulders that rose a bit with every breath.

Both of them stepped forward, with a smile on their faces they introduced themselves. Their purpose. They both sat just across Mr. Ramirez. It feels instinctive now– meet patients where they are. While Allie prepared the blood pressure cuff, Avaia began asking questions.

"When were you discharged from the hospital, sir?"

"Last week," he replied, pausing midway to breathe. Struggling a bit with his speech.

Avaia noticed that. The pause. The effort. That tightened something in her chest. She wrote it down carefully.

Allie read the blood pressure quietly— slightly elevated. His daughter stepped inside the living room in the middle of their interview, admitted that he sometimes forgot to take his medication. Avaia didn't react sharply, even though in her mind she was already forming nursing diagnoses. Instead, she and Allie explained softly why consistency mattered— especially post-hospitalization for stroke— how small habits could affect greatly on the body.

Mr. Ramirez listened, eyes steady on them. Not defensive. Just tired.

As he spoke, she became more aware of his breathing than her own. The slight strain at the end of sentences. In this way he avoided long explanations. She felt the quiet weight of it— the responsibility of noticing what others might dismiss.

This wasn't just paperwork.

When they finished, Avaia summarized everything back to him to make sure she understood correctly. He nodded each time.

"Thank you, sir," she said sincerely before standing.

Outside, the sunlight hit her face sharply. She exhaled without realizing she'd been holding it in. For a moment, the thought of coffee and teasing grins felt very far away. But she adjusted her clipboard, steadied herself, and walked on. By the time they returned to the health center, the adrenaline had worn off and fatigue settled in its place.

They reported to their Clinical Instructor, relayed their findings, clarified a few details about medication compliance and activity intolerance, which made their Instructor ask sharp follow-up questions. Allie and Avaia answered without taking a glance at their notes.

"Documented properly," the instructor reminded them. "Make sure your NCP reflects your assessment."

"Yes, ma'am"

They were dismissed for lunch a little past noon. Avaia and Allie walked back towards campus slower this time. The sun was harder now, pressing against their backs. Her stomach had been empty for hours, and she could feel it now.

She ate her lunch with Allie while waiting for Mira's reply if she'd finished with their home visit. Avaia opened her container— rise slightly clumped now. The egg had already peeled cleanly, and the chicken reheated just enough earlier to still taste probably taste decent. She hopes.

They ate mostly in silence. Not awkward. Just tired.

"You think we missed anything?" Allie asked between bites.

Avaia shook her head."No. But it's better to recheck the data later when we write the NCP."

Allie gave her a look. "You're really not built for mediocrity, huh?"

Avaia shrugged slightly. "We don't get to be."

Lunch was quick. She checked her phone, their instructor announcing that she'd give them time to write their NCP for the afternoon session. By 1:15, Avaia was already in the library with Mira and Allie. Tablets open and notes spread out.

Nursing Diagnosis. She listed:

1. Impaired physical mobility related to neuromuscular impairment

2. Impaired verbal communication

She paused, replaying his strained speech in her head. Her pen moved steadily. Focused.

At 2:40 p.m., she leaned back in her chair, stretching her fingers. Her eyes flicked to the time almost against her will.

3:00 p.m.

And an annoying grin pierced her mind. Coffee.

She stared back at her screen for a second longer than necessary.

"You're thinking about it," Mira, who's sitting across from her, said without looking up.

"About what?"

Mira finally glanced at her. "Whoever made you check the time like that?"

Avaia closed her tablet. "It's just coffee."

She packed her things before Mira could even continue teasing her. Her gaze fell onto Allie. "I'll finish formatting tonight," she said. "Send me your draft also."

Mira chuckled at her. "Don't fall in love or whatever."

That made her roll her eyes. "It's just coffee."

She stepped out of the building at 2:57 p.m.

And walked straight into someone solid. Again.

This time, no papers flew. No coffee tilted. Just a brief collision and a familiar steading hand at her elbow.

“Engineering reflexes,” he said calmly. That voice made her look up.

She saw that annoying grin etched on his face. Of course.

“You’re doing this on purpose now,” she said flatly.

Eiden released her arm immediately, hands lifting in mock surrender. “I was literally just walking.”

“You’re always just walking.”

“And you’re always almost sprinting.” She tried not to smile with his banter. Failed a little.

He studied her for a second. Jeans. The nursing shirt is slightly wrinkled now. Hair is still neat but softer around the edges.

“You look tired,” he said, not teasing this time.

“Community duty.”

“How bad?”

Her eyebrow raised, not angrily, just enough to mirror his grin. “I can’t disclose patient information now, can’t I?”

He lifted both of his hands again in surrender. “Right. Ethical. Confidential. I respect that.”

“You better.”

“But,” he added, tilting his head slightly, “on a scale of ‘I need a coffee’ to ‘I need to drop out and open a bakery’ how bad?”

She exhaled through her nose, a almost tired laugh escaping. “Somewhere between caffeine dependency and early retirement.”

“Ah,” he nodded solemnly. “Severe”

“So,” he spoke, hands slipping inside his pockets.

“So?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Coffee, 3 p.m.?”

She checked her watch at 2:59 “You’re early,” she somewhat teased.

“It’s called planning.”

“It’s called having too much time.”

He smirked faintly. “Still up for it?”

She considered him for half a second. Considering her exhaustion. NCP is waiting for her. The coffee she’s been wanting before she goes home to work on it.

“One coffee.” she reminded him.

“Legally documented.”

“Not long.”

“I’ll set a timer if you want.”

She huffed a small laugh at herself and shook her head. They started walking toward the café. It just… happened.

“Did you pass your pharmacology test?” he asked casually as they walked.

“I think so.”

“That’s still your answer?”

“That’s always my answer.”

He glanced at her. “Do you ever just say ‘I did well’?”

She didn’t answer right away. He noticed. “Thought so…” he murmured.

She bumped his arm lightly with hers. “You talk too much.”

“And yet you’re still coming for coffee.”

She shot him a look.

He grinned.

The late afternoon air was warm, not as brutal as the morning sun but still heavy enough to remind her she’d been awake since 4:15 a.m. Her body felt it now. The home visit. The mental replay of every assessment detail.

“You’re a bit quieter than yesterday,” he observed.

“I’ve already used most of my words on patients today.”

“That’s fair.”

A small pause. Softer.

“Was it hard?” he asked this time, no teasing.

She hesitated. They were almost at the café. She remembered Mr. Ramirez's stranded speech. The way his finger slightly trembled when she held it steady for a pulse reading.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “It was.”

That surprised her more than anything.

The café came into view– glass windows catching sunlight, the faint hum of conversation inside. He pulled the door open for her without comment. She stepped in, grateful for the cool air hitting her skin.

They ordered quickly. Iced coffee for her. Americano for him. When they found a small table near the window, she wrapped both hands around her cup like it was a lifeline.

“You know,” he said, leaning back slightly, "I complain about plates, concrete and calculation loads. But if I mess up, the structure cracks. There are warning signs."

She looked at him.

“You mess up,” he continued, quieter now, “and someone gets hurt.” The weight of that sat between them. “Is that why you always sprint?” he added.

She glared at him. Then stared at her coffee before answering. “We don’t get to be mediocre.”

It slipped out before she could filter it. He studied her for a moment, not amused this time. Not teasing. No banters.

“That’s a lot to carry at twenty,” he said.

She shrugged, defensive reflex kicking in. “It’s the program.”

“No,” he said simply. “It’s you.”

That unsettled her more than the flirting and taunting smile ever did. She took a sip of her coffee to avoid responding. It was strong. Bitter. Exactly what she needed.

“So,” she said, deliberately shifting the tone, "what crisis are you preventing today, Mr. Engineer?”

He smirked faintly, tension easing. “Bridge design revisions.”

“Thrilling.”

“You wound me.”

She smiled despite herself. For a moment, she let herself just sit there. Just coffee.

At 3:27, she checked the time.

“I have to go,” she said immediately, instinctively.

“Of course you do.”

She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. He didn’t try to stop her.

“Thank you,” she added, softer this time. “For the wallet. And… this.”

He nodded. “Try not to lose anything else.”

“Try not to loiter in the hallways.”

“I make no promises.”

She turned to leave, but he called out gently—

“Hey, Avaia?”

She looked back.

“You don’t always have to sprint.” Her chest tightened slightly at that.

She gave him a small, almost unreadable smile. “I’ll consider walking.”