YOU ARE MY LIGHT

CHAPTER 8 : THE FIRST TEST

I sat stiff as a board in Mr Vincent’s office, barely breathing.

He was flipping through files just a few steps away from me. The silence was so heavy I could hear my own heartbeat.

“I know you’ve heard about the appointment,” he said without looking up.

“Yes, sir,” I answered, way too stiff.

He finally raised his eyes.

“You can just call me Mr Vincent.”

His gaze moved over me — from my straight back to my clenched hands.

“You should relax a little,” he said, voice calm but firm. “That’s how we’ll work together without mistakes.”

I didn’t know whether to feel excited or scared. Working with one of the best doctors was a dream… but working with him felt like walking on eggshells.

He pushed the files toward me.

“These are the patients we’ll be handling. Study them. We have surgeries coming up soon.”

I opened the first file and my heart dropped.

A 15-year-old girl. Brain tumor.

My chest tightened.

“She’s the one we’ll operate on very soon,” he said, watching me. “I want you to go through her case properly this weekend. By next week, I expect you to know everything.”

My weekend plans just died.

“I’m really cooked,” I whispered to myself.

If this man was going to stay this cold, then I had no choice. I was going to melt that ice — whether he liked it or not.

I stood up, stretched my hand toward him and said, “Don’t worry, Mr Vincent. I’ll work hard. I hope we can work well together.”

He stared at my hand.

Then a knock came.

“Mr Vincent?” Doctor David called from outside.

Without even touching my hand, he stood up and walked out, leaving me hanging there like a fool.

I picked up the files and left his office, feeling completely defeated.

At Joy’s house, her laughter was so loud I could hear it from outside the building.

“Girl, our camping plans are ruined and you’re laughing?” I said, exhausted.

“Juliet, this is the first time I’m seeing you this stressed because of a man,” she teased, dragging my cheek.

“Of all the interns, why me? They really want me to keep embarrassing myself,” I cried.

Joy smirked. “Sometimes the doctor chooses the assistant himself.”

My eyes widened. “Did he pick me just to expose how crazy I am?”

I dramatically fell on the floor.

“I even stretched my hand to shake him and he just walked away. I had to shake myself!” I said, embarrassed.

Joy laughed harder.

“Don’t worry. Just don’t make any big mistakes with him. Most nurses who worked with him gave up halfway.”

“And you said he isn’t hard to deal with?” I asked.

She just laughed.

I stood up with fresh energy. “Don’t worry. I’ll be the first nurse to conquer the cold Mr Vincent.”

“Yes, girl… and you might even fall for him like the others,” she teased.

“Daydreaming,” I said, turning my face away. “He’s not my type.”

Joy tried to look at me. “Really? Really?”

I kept hiding my face.

“Okay, we shall see,” she said with a knowing smile.

I groaned. “Oh God, I still have files to study.”

That weekend I buried myself in the files. The 15-year-old girl’s case was heartbreaking — brain tumor, low survival rate. Another young life hanging by a thread.

Mira’s words kept echoing in my head: “He said, ‘I won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me.’”

Maybe he really is different from what people say.

I spent the entire weekend studying like my life depended on it. I had to prove to him that I was good at something.

Monday morning I rushed to work early.

“Day 1 of working with Mr Vincent,” I whispered to myself. “If I survive today, I can survive anything.”

I saw him walking to his office.

“Mr Vincent!” I called, running to catch up.

He stopped and turned.

I was breathing hard when I reached him.

“I went through the files and I noticed something about the girl. I have a question —”

“We can go inside the office,” he said. He looked at my hands filled with files and held the door for me when we were going in. It wasn’t noticeable… but he did.

I followed him in, still searching for my notebook.

“Where is it…” I muttered.

He removed his suit and hung it. I dropped the files on the floor and squatted, frantically flipping through pages.

“Mr Vincent…” I kept calling.

Then I found it. I quickly placed the notebook on his table and pointed at my notes.

“I noticed the girl’s symptoms started at age five, got better for five years, then came back after an allergy. She might still be exposed to whatever triggered it.”

I was talking so fast I was almost out of breath.

“What do you think is making her condition deteriorate?” he asked calmly.

I cleared my throat, trying to sound confident.

“I drew some things that children love which can affect a weak brain,” I said, bringing out my second notebook.

I flipped the page.

Wrong page — a terrible drawing of a brain that looked like a football.

“No!” I quickly flipped past it.

Then another silly diagram.

I laughed nervously, face burning.

“Where is it…” I whispered, flipping faster.

I was embarrassing myself again.

Then I finally found the right page.

“Here, Mr Vincent—”

Then he stood up from his seat.

“It’s okay… We will go through it together and find out what’s really causing that,” he said, his voice low and steady.

I nodded.

Then everywhere was quiet.

He was looking at me in silence. No expression, but it felt like he had just discovered something new about me. The look was warm.

And that look did something I wasn’t aware of.

I cleared my throat. “I will be…”

I started packing all the books and files into my arms.

Then he stretched out his hand.

“Nice to work with you, Nurse Juliet,” he said calmly.

I was so surprised that I didn’t know when the books and files slipped from my hand and fell to the floor.

I quickly squatted, picking them up.

“What is really happening?” I whispered to myself.

I stood up quickly, laughing nervously. His hand was still stretched out.

Then I saw it — a little smile at the curve of his lips.

It disappeared almost immediately, but I saw it.

I shook his hand.

“Nice to work with you too, Mr Vincent.”I stood up quickly, laughing nervously. His hand was still stretched out.

Then I saw it — a little smile at the curve of his lips.

It disappeared almost immediately, but I saw it.

“Juliet…”

I looked up.

“You’ll take charge of her case.”

My breath caught.

“Let’s see if you’re right.”

The way he said it — calm, steady — made it clear this wasn’t encouragement.

It was a test.