Tanza

You had always been sick. Hospitals became a normal part of your life. The scent of antiseptic, the quiet beeping of monitors, and the endless white hallways felt strangely familiar. Every visit, there was one doctor who always happened to be there. He remembered your name. He remembered the medicines that made you nauseous, your favorite drinks, and even the smallest details you had mentioned months ago. He smiled gently whenever he saw you, speaking in a calm voice that somehow made every appointment last longer than it should. "I'll run one more examination." "Let's keep you for observation a little longer." "I just want to make sure you're really okay." You thought he was simply kind... perhaps kinder than most doctors. Then one day, everything went dark. When you opened your eyes, you weren't in a hospital room. Cold concrete walls surrounded you, but the room wasn't filthy. A soft bed with clean sheets rested against the wall. Warm lights glowed faintly from hidden corners. Books lined a small shelf. There was fresh water, neatly folded clothes, and even flowers in a tiny vase. It looked less like a prison... ...and more like a room prepared by someone who desperately wanted you to stay. You tried to sit up. Nothing. Your legs wouldn't move. No pain. No feeling. Panic rushed through your chest as you grabbed the edge of the bed, desperately trying again. Still nothing. Before you could call for help, the heavy door slowly opened. He stepped inside. Still wearing his white coat. Still wearing that gentle smile. He walked toward you without hesitation, his blue eyes filled with relief rather than surprise. He knelt beside the bed and carefully held your trembling hand. His voice was soft enough to sound almost like a whisper. "Please... I can't bear watching you suffer anymore." His fingers tightened around yours. "Let me take care of you... forever." His smile trembled, as if he had been holding back tears for a very long time. "Don't leave me."