Beyond White Coats

Chapter 2

We stopped in front of a patient’s room. I barely had time to take a steadying breath before Lucas turned to me, his gaze sharp and assessing.

"I have a few rounds before we go to the conference room," he said smoothly. "Assist me."

My stomach twisted at his words, but I refused to let it show. I squared my shoulders, willing my voice to stay steady. "Understood, Dr. Tuarez."

A flicker of something—approval?—crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant. Without another word, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The air in the room was cooler, the soft beeping of the monitors filling the space. An elderly woman lay on a bed, her thin hands resting atop the blanket. A nurse was adjusting the IV line beside her, nodding as we entered. "Mrs. Ramirez," Lucas greeted smoothly, flipping through her chart without missing a beat. "How are you feeling today?"

She offered a weak smile. "A little better, doctor. Thank you for checking on me."

Lucas gave a slight nod, his eyes scanning the chart with quick precision. "Vitals?" he asked, not looking up.

The nurse quickly listed the patient’s stats, and I listened intently, my fingers tightening around my clipboard. My mind raced to process the information, absorbing every detail. Then, without warning, Lucas turned to me.

"Vivienne, assess her condition."

My breath hitched. So soon? I hesitated, but only for a second. Swallowing my nerves, I stepped forward, offering Mrs. Ramirez a reassuring smile before placing two fingers on her wrist to check her pulse. Her skin was papery, fragile, yet warm with life.

Focus, Vivienne.

I analyzed her vitals, her coloring, the way her chest rose and fell at a slightly uneven pace. Her breathing wasn’t labored, but there was a faint tightness in her expression, a subtle tension in her posture.

"Her pulse is steady but slightly weaker than it should be," I said carefully, my voice measured.

"She also looks slightly dehydrated. We may need to monitor her fluid intake more closely."

Silence.

Lucas’s eyes stood on me, unreadable. Then, with a slow blink, he tilted his head. "Is that your final assessment?"

A sliver of doubt slithered in, but I pushed it away. "Yes, doctor."

Another pause. The air between us thickened. Then, finally, he gave a curt nod. "Not bad. But next time, be faster. Patients won’t wait for you to figure things out."

I felt my back straighten at his words, an odd mix of relief and frustration bubbling inside me. He turned back to the nurse, issuing further instructions before motioning for me to follow him out.

The second we stepped into the hallway, I released a slow breath, but Lucas didn’t even glance my way. He was already walking ahead, utterly unfazed.

"You hesitated," he stated suddenly, his voice cutting through the air.

I stiffened, then hurried to catch up. "I... I wanted to make sure my assessment was correct."

Lucas stopped abruptly, and I nearly ran into him. He turned, his dark eyes sharp as they locked onto mine. "In real emergencies, you won’t have the luxury of second-guessing yourself. You act, or the patient suffers."

My fingers curled around my clipboard, the weight of his words sinking in. He was harsh, but he wasn’t wrong.

"I understand," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.

Lucas studied me for a second longer before scoffing lightly, as if unimpressed. "We'll see."

Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

"Well, that was intense."

I turned to see Noah leaning lazily against the wall, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

"You surviving so far, Viv?" he teased, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

I shot him a glare. "Barely."

Noah chuckled, pushing himself off the wall as he walked beside me. "Tuarez is a tough one, but you’ll get used to it. Maybe."

I huffed, rubbing my temples. "I don’t think ‘getting used to it’ is possible with him."

Lucas, as expected, ignored our conversation entirely, already moving forward. I stole another glance at him, my mind whirling. There was no denying it—his presence was intimidating, suffocating even. But beneath the cold exterior, there was something else. Something sharp, precise, calculated.

I had a long way to go.

As I followed Dr. Tuarez down the hall, my heart pounded in my chest. The rumors about him swirled in my mind—stern, brilliant, and utterly unapproachable. He walked with a commanding presence, his long strides forcing me to keep up. I could feel the eyes of passing hospital staff on us, their expressions a mix of curiosity and sympathy.

Noah, who had been my buffer a moment ago, had already vanished into another wing of the hospital, leaving me alone with my new mentor. My hands instinctively tightened around the strap of my bag.

"You're slowing down," Dr. Tuarez remarked without looking at me. His voice was deep, smooth, but carried a sharp edge.

I swallowed, quickening my pace to match his. "Sorry, Doctor."

He didn’t acknowledge my response, instead pushing open a set of double doors that led to a large conference room. Inside, a group of interns and residents sat at a long table, some flipping through case files, others engaged in hushed conversations. The moment we entered, the room fell into a tense silence.

Dr. Tuarez moved toward the front of the room, pulling out a chair with a swift motion. He gestured for me to take the seat beside him. "Sit."

I obeyed, my fingers fumbling slightly as I pulled out a notebook from my bag.

"Listen carefully," he began, his dark eyes sweeping across the room. "You are here to observe, to learn, and most importantly—to not make mistakes. One miscalculation can mean the difference between life and death."

The weight of his words settled in my chest. I had heard similar warnings from professors, but coming from him, it felt heavier, more real.

I risked a glance at him. His expression was unreadable, his sharp features giving away nothing. It was no wonder he had such a formidable reputation. I wondered if there was ever a moment he let his guard down.

Before I could dwell on the thought, the door swung open again, and another doctor passed by, briefly scanning the room before continuing on his way. A murmur spread across the interns, whispers exchanged about the fleeting presence.

Dr. Tuarez, seemingly uninterested, leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Eyes up front. You're wasting time whispering instead of focusing."

I straightened, quickly jotting notes, realizing that this internship was going to be anything but hell.