chapter 12
1679 Words
Chapter 12
Mary was walking slowly down one end of the long corridor floating in white light. Bag in hand, that familiar proud expression on her face, but her eyes were tired. After a busy day, deals, meetings—she had come here just to be sure of one thing.
Where was Mikhail going lately, what was he doing… that question was bothering her day by day. So coming here today.
She stopped for a moment before turning the corner of the corridor. Seeing a cabin door half-open from a distance, her eyes naturally went towards it. At that moment, she was involved in a scene that set her mind on fire.
The room inside was as much as she could see, and everything was understandable. An old woman was lying on the bed, an oxygen mask on her nose, a light blanket on her body. Her face was wrinkled, her skin was dry and wrinkled, her eyes were closed, her lips were drawn in straight thin lines—the frozen peace of a coma seemed to permeate her entire body.
Mikhail was sitting next to the bed.
Mary couldn't believe her eyes at first. Mikhail's posture was very familiar, but the look in his eyes... that gentle, caring, mixed look of guilt and affection—that wasn't supposed to be reserved for anyone else.
She saw Mikhail sitting gently holding the old woman's hand. Sometimes he would run his fingers over her hand, and sometimes he would lower his head and stare at her face. Sometimes he would say something softly, although Mary couldn't hear the words properly, the movements of his lips and the expression on his face said a lot.
Something inside Mary's chest broke.
"Who did she break down so much for?"—she said to herself.
Who was this woman, next to whom Mikhail became so soft? Even when she cried, Mikhail didn't sit there holding her hand like that. Then there was logic, anger, and pain in his voice. Yet he sat silently next to this unconscious woman, as if that person was a very important part of his world.
Along with anger, jealousy and humiliation mixed inside Mary.
She looked away from the direction of the cabin. She took a deep breath and controlled herself. She wanted to scream, open the door and enter, wanting to know, “Who is this woman?” But she knew that she would never show weakness in front of Mikhail.
Mary walked slowly towards the nurse’s station. The nurse sitting behind the table was signing some papers. As Mary went and stood in front of the table, the nurse looked up.
“Can I ask you a little?”—Mary said coldly.
The nurse gave a polite smile.
“Yes, madam?”
Mary’s eyes were sharp like a bird of prey, fixed directly on the target.
“That room… on the right of the last head. What is the relationship between Dr. Mikhail and the patient lying there?”
The nurse paused for a moment at the question. No one usually asks like this. She hesitated a little.
“He… is in charge of the patient, madam,” the nurse said.
Mary clarified the question in a cold voice,
“I know he is in charge. I want to know, how long has he been coming here before? Who is this woman to him?”
The nurse felt a little uneasy. She looked down at the paper, as if the answer was hidden there.
“It’s actually…”
Mary placed her hand lightly on the table, as if calm, but with a clear threat inside.
“Listen, you have a lot of patients here, I understand. But what I want to know is not something very difficult. I just want to know, how long has he been seeing the woman in that bed.”
The nurse looked around once, as if to make sure that no one was listening.
“He’s been here almost the whole time, madam. He’s been with her most of the time since the beginning. The other doctors come on rounds, check her up. But he…”
She paused, searching for words.
“He’s been taking care of her very carefully, just as he is a doctor.”
Mary shuddered even more inside.
“The whole time…”
He was here the whole time? And he didn’t even think it necessary to tell me?
Suddenly Mikhail’s face flashed before her eyes—the face with which he had so often assured her,
“I have no one else but you.”
Now that same face was sitting by another woman’s bed, holding her hand, watching her with compassion.
Mary pressed her lips together tightly to control her anger.
She swallowed.
“Is she… a relative?” Mary asked again.
“No, as far as I know, none of her relatives come here,” the nurse said.
“Dr. Mikhail comes, arranges for the medicine, follows up on everything that needs to be done in the system. If he doesn’t come…”
The nurse didn’t finish the sentence.
Mary understood the rest.
“If he hadn’t come, this woman might not have received this much care at all.”
Her voice faltered, but something else had already formed in her eyes—not just jealousy, but a kind of ruthless determination.
She stood up straight, opened the chain of her bag wide. She reached inside and took out her wallet. The nurse was looking at her in surprise.
Mary opened her wallet and took out some neatly folded notes. A thick bundle.
“How long have you been working here?”
“About three years, madam,” the nurse replied.
Mary didn’t look at her. She just placed the notes on the table.
“I want a job from you.”
The nurse frowned.
“A job?”
Mary slowly raised her eyes. There was no hesitation in her gaze.
“That old woman doesn’t need to live anymore,” she said carefully.
“It all needs to end tonight.”
The nurse’s face turned pale.
“What are you saying, madam?”
“You heard me right,” Mary said quietly.
“The oxygen mask on that patient’s nose needs to be removed.”
The nurse shook her head.
“No, madam… this is legally wrong.”
Mary glared at her.
“Law? Do you know what law is in this country?”
She pointed at the money.
“That’s a month’s salary.”
The nurse swallowed hard.
“I can’t, madam.”
Mary smiled coldly.
“Do you get food for your children by swearing?”
The nurse hesitated.
“You don’t understand… we have protocols…”
Mary leaned forward.
“That woman is in a coma. No one is waiting for her. No one comes to check on her.”
The nurse whispered,
“Doctor Mikhail?”
Mary answered coldly,
“No one can take this place in his life. So this place has to be broken.”
Silence fell between them.
Finally the nurse said softly,
“If I agree… will you promise that my name won’t come up anywhere?”
Mary nodded slowly.
“You just need to remove the mask tonight.”
The nurse lowered her head.
“Okay, madam…”
Mary smiled with satisfaction.
“Good.”
Mary left the nurse’s station and walked back through the corridor. As she passed the cabin, she glanced inside.
Mikhail was still sitting there, still holding the old woman's hand.
Mary muttered to herself,
“Everything will change for you from today, Mikhail.”
She walked straight out of the hospital.
---
The nurse was trying to keep herself busy. Updating a record, organizing another file. But no matter how much she tried to stay immersed in her work, her mind kept returning to the same place—the cabin on the right of the last ward.
After a long time, she looked at her watch.
She counted the time. She felt a strange, suppressed shiver inside her. It was as if someone was gripping her chest.
She stood up slowly. She mechanically put down the medicine tray, stuffed the pen into her pocket. Then, with a very ordinary gait, as if she were going for a normal routine check-up, she started walking down the corridor.
As she stopped in front of the old woman's cabin, the pounding sound in her chest became more pronounced. The door was still half open. From inside, the faint sound of a machine and the sound of her breathing could be heard.
She knocked lightly on the door, then slowly pushed the door open and entered.
Mikhail was still sitting next to the patient. There was a look of fatigue and exhaustion on his face, but there was still that same look of affection in his eyes. The old woman's hand was still in his.
Mikhail looked up as the nurse entered.
"Are you still there?" the nurse said.
Mikhail gave a slightly tired smile.
“Yes, I was sitting for a while. Her breathing seems a little more stable today. I was thinking, maybe…”
The nurse swallowed.
“Doctor, it’s time for her to rest.”
Mikhail stared at the patient’s face for a moment.
He gently squeezed her hand again.
“Okay,” he said softly.
“If anything happens to her… will you call me?”
The nurse nodded.
Mikhail stood up from his chair. He glanced at the oxygen mask tube, the monitor wire—everything.
Then he leaned over the bed and whispered something softly.
Maybe he was saying,
“I’ll be back.”
Then he walked toward the door.
Before crossing the threshold, he looked back once more.
Mikhail finally left the room.
The door closed softly behind him.
There was nothing in the room except the faint warmth and the ticking sound of the machine.
The nurse stood still for a moment. The shiver in her chest was rising to her throat this time.
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