The Lost Doctor in 1890

Athena “Yna” Blake moved quickly through the hospital corridors, her white coat swaying with each step. Patient charts clutched in her hand, she checked vital signs, answered questions from nurses, and adjusted treatment plans. “Dr. Blake, the patient at Room 209, Mr. Chase, his blood pressure is dropping,” a nurse called. “I’ll be there immediately,” Yna replied, keeping her voice calm. She moved with precision, her mind calculating, her hands steady. Surgery, diagnosis, patient care—this was her life. And she did it well. Yet, despite her confidence and skill, a quiet loneliness lived in her heart. The sterile walls and constant alarms reminded her that her life was full of purpose, but not of personal connection. At the nurses’ station, her best friend Nina Johnson waited with a teasing grin. “Yna! Are you still alive in there, or are you just a shadow haunting the corridors?” Nina asked, waving a coffee cup in front of her. “I’m alive,” Yna said with a tired smile. “Just focused.” “Focused, or obsessed? Seriously, you need a break,” Nina said. “You’re human, not a robot. Even superheroes need coffee.” Yna chuckled and took the cup. “Thanks, Nina. You’re right. I’ll try.” Even as she drank, her thoughts drifted to her parents. She had been an orphan for years after they died in a mysterious accident. They had been renowned doctors, brilliant and kind. Their deaths had left her with wealth, responsibility, and a heart still aching from loss. Yna’s focus on medicine wasn’t just career dedication—it was a way to honor them. Every life she saved felt like a tribute to the parents she had loved and lost. As she walked back to her patients, a familiar figure blocked her path. “Yna! Ignoring me again?” said Marcus Lyle, a fellow doctor and her pre-med classmate who had always admired her. “I have patients waiting,” Yna replied gently. “You should focus on your own work.” Marcus sighed, but a small smile tugged at his lips. He had been trying to win her attention for years, but Yna only saw him as a friend. He had persistence and charm, but her heart belonged to her work. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, walking away. Yna shook her head, smiling to herself. Some things never changed. She returned to her rounds, checking on patients, adjusting medications, and offering comforting words. The work was endless, but Yna was devoted. Still, in quiet moments, she wondered if there was more to life than this. And little did she know, that more—much more—was about to enter her life in the most unexpected way.