Chapter Ten

Saturday;

A soft knock echoed through the quiet of my room, pulling me out of a deep, peaceful sleep. Groggy and disoriented, I dragged myself out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I shuffled to the door. I opened it to find my aunt standing there, dressed in her scrubs, her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail and a bright smile lighting up her face. She looked far too cheerful for this hour of the morning.

"Morning, honey," she greeted me, her voice filled with a gentle cheerfulness that made me squint against the harshness of reality. "You asked me to wake you before I left for the hospital."

"What time is it?" I mumbled, stretching my arms above my head, my muscles protesting the early wake-up call. My aunt glanced at her watch, the numbers glowing faintly in the dim light of the hallway. "Just after four," she replied, as if it were perfectly normal to be awake before the sun.

If I had known she was heading out this early, I definitely wouldn't have asked her to wake me. I mean, I'm an early riser, but not four in the morning early. The thought of crawling back under my warm blankets was incredibly tempting.

"There's breakfast in the microwave," she said, her voice trailing behind her as she turned and started down the hallway. "Are you coming to the hospital later?" she asked, glancing back over her shoulder.

"I'll think about it," I called after her, still half-asleep as I leaned against the doorframe. With a wave, she was out the door, and I dragged myself towards the bathroom, trying to muster the energy to start the day.

I took a quick, icy shower that jolted me fully awake, the cold water shocking the last remnants of sleep from my body. Shivering, I threw on the first clothes my hands landed on—an oversized hoodie and some comfortable jeans—before making my way to the kitchen, still toweling off my damp hair.

The smell of bacon greeted me as I opened the microwave, finding a plate of slightly cold toast, crispy bacon, and scrambled eggs waiting inside. My aunt really was a superhero—she woke up at the crack of dawn for her shifts at the hospital and still managed to make me breakfast every morning. I couldn't help but smile, feeling a pang of guilt for not doing more around the house. I needed to start pulling my weight—learn to cook, clean up after myself, and maybe even surprise her with breakfast once in a while.

Too hungry and tired to bother with reheating, I grabbed the plate and poured myself a cold glass of milk. The kitchen was quiet, bathed in the soft early morning light filtering through the window, casting long shadows across the dining table. I plopped down in my usual chair, the wooden surface cool against my arms, and dug into the food, savoring each bite of bacon and eggs. Even cold, it tasted like a little slice of comfort.

As I ate, I scrolled mindlessly through my phone, piecing together a rough plan for the day. If I pushed myself hard enough and worked straight through until about three in the afternoon, I could make decent progress on the assignment and still squeeze in a couple of hours at the hospital to volunteer.

Or maybe I should buckle down and just finish the whole assignment today, finally get it off my plate. I weighed the options for a moment, the idea of ditching volunteering lingering in my mind before I chuckled at myself. Who was I kidding? There was no way I'd skip out on volunteering—it was the best part of my day.

Once I finished eating, I placed my plate in the sink and turned to head back to my room. I took barely two steps before I halted, remembering my promise to be more responsible around the house. A wave of determination washed over me, and I turned back, rolling up my sleeves.

I scrubbed my plate clean, rinsing off the last bits of egg, and tackled the few other dishes left in the sink. The sound of running water and the rhythmic clinking of dishes filled the quiet kitchen, feeling oddly satisfying.

After placing everything on the drying rack, I wiped down the dining table, clearing away the stray crumbs and sticky spots. The kitchen now felt spotless, like a small victory first thing in the morning.

Back in my room, I grabbed my laptop and laid out the assignment on my desk, determined to make some real progress. The faint morning light filtered through the blinds, casting soft, streaky shadows across my workspace. I skimmed over the notes I had jotted down during Thursday's lecture, grateful I had done some research ahead of time—it was going to make today's workload much more manageable.

As I settled in, I queued up my favorite playlist, letting the familiar tunes fill the room. While some people find music distracting, I've always found it helps me focus, like it sets the rhythm for my thoughts. I stretched my fingers, feeling the slight crack of my knuckles, then dove right into the work, typing furiously as ideas flowed from my mind to the screen. The soft clacking of keys filled the room, punctuated by the occasional pause as I re-read what I had written, making sure each point landed the way I wanted.

The assignment wasn't huge, so if I kept my head down and worked efficiently, I could have this wrapped up by the afternoon. My mind wandered briefly to Prof. Montgomery's assignment, the one that had us all on edge. When were we going to get those marks back? I quickly brushed the thought away—no point in stressing over something I couldn't control. Patience, I reminded myself, and refocused on the task at hand, determined to knock this out before the day slipped away.

My phone buzzed against the desk, breaking my concentration. I picked it up, eyes narrowing as I saw Lea's name flash across the screen. She'd sent another message, "Sure you don't want to grab a drink tonight?" I sighed, my thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before I typed out a quick reply—"No, I've got too much work to do." I turned off my phone and tossed it aside, determined to block out any distractions. I needed to stay focused.

Minutes bled into hours, and before I knew it, the clock read just after twelve. My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast. Time for a break. I saved my progress, pushed my chair back, and made my way to the kitchen.

Opening the fridge, I scanned the shelves, shifting containers and half-empty bottles aside in search of something to eat. My eyes landed on a box of leftover pizza, wedged in the back behind a jar of pickles. Perfect. I grabbed the box, feeling a small thrill at my discovery—cold pizza always hit differently when you were starving and in the middle of a work marathon.

I plopped down on the couch, pizza in hand, and grabbed the remote, flicking on the TV. I scrolled through the options and settled on the series I'd just started watching: Psych. The opening credits rolled, and I sank deeper into the cushions, savoring a cold slice as the quirky theme song played.

This show had quickly become one of my favorites. It was silly, sure, but that's what made it so fun. I couldn't help but laugh as Shawn and Gus got themselves into another ridiculous situation, their banter and quick wit reminding me of how great true friendships could be. The thought of having a bond like theirs—a mix of mischief, loyalty, and endless inside jokes—made me smile.

After finishing an episode, I reluctantly turned off the TV, feeling recharged but knowing it was time to get back to work. At least I was almost done, and then I'd have the rest of the day to spend volunteering at the hospital.

✿

I found myself back at the hospital, pushing a cart loaded with trays of food down the bustling hallways. The sterile scent of antiseptic mixed with the faint aroma of tonight's dinner as I delivered meals to patients, their tired eyes lighting up at the sight of a hot meal.

My aunt's face brightened when she spotted me. She immediately offered to buy me a coffee, but I waved her off, insisting I'd get one for her instead. She tried to argue, but I simply grinned, ignoring her protests as I walked off toward the cafeteria.

After picking up a coffee for her, I grabbed a bottle of cold water and made my way to one of my usual stops—the grumpy older man in room 312. He didn't ask for anything, but I knew he'd demand water eventually, so I decided to get ahead of it.

As I walked in, he shot me a suspicious glare from his bed, his brows furrowing as I uncapped the bottle and set it on his bedside table. "I didn't ask for this water," he snapped, voice dripping with annoyance. I just shrugged, giving him a nonchalant look before heading for the door.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him grab the bottle and take a long drink, clearly parched despite his stubborn pride. I couldn't help but smirk as I walked out. Knew it.

I handed my aunt the coffee, and she flashed me a grateful smile before getting called away by a nurse, leaving me standing alone in the bustling corridor. I watched her hurry off, her scrubs blending with the sea of other medical staff, before turning around to find something to keep myself busy.

After wandering through the halls and asking a few nurses if they needed help, I came up empty-handed. With nothing pressing to do, I made my way to Elizabeth's room, eager to see her. I knocked lightly on the door before stepping inside, and her face immediately brightened as she looked up from her phone.

"Val, dear!" Elizabeth exclaimed, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. "I was wondering when you'd come visit me!" Her voice was warm, a comforting sound that always made me feel at ease.

I gave her an apologetic smile as I sank into the plush couch by the window. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth," I said, feeling a bit guilty. "University has been so hectic lately."

Elizabeth chuckled softly, brushing a stray silver hair behind her ear as she nodded in understanding. "Oh, trust me, I know all about busy schedules," she said, readjusting herself on the bed to sit up straighter. She looked at me with a knowing glint in her eye. "So, how are things going with that strict professor of yours?"

I let out a scoff, shaking my head in disbelief. "Oh, you won't believe what she pulled on me in the library," I said, rolling my eyes dramatically. Elizabeth leaned in, her curiosity piqued, and I launched into the story.

I painted a vivid picture of how Prof. Montgomery tricked me, starting with the useless book she handed me, and ending with the smug look on her face when I realized I'd been duped. As I spoke, Elizabeth's expression shifted from amusement to shock; her mouth dropped open, and her eyebrows knit together in disbelief.

"...And that's why I can't stand her," I finished with an exasperated sigh, sinking back into the couch. Elizabeth shook her head slowly, her lips pressed into a thin line. "That woman is downright rude," she said, her voice full of conviction. "You should really give her a piece of your mind."

I laughed, the idea of confronting Prof. Montgomery seeming both terrifying and ridiculous. "Yeah, no thanks. I'd rather not have her hate me more than she already does," I said, imagining the professor's icy glare.

Elizabeth let out a sigh, her gaze lingering thoughtfully. "I think she just needs someone to stand up to her," she mused, crossing her arms as if imagining the confrontation herself.

I couldn't help but smirk at the thought. "Not gonna happen," I replied, shaking my head firmly. "She looks like the type who'd snap if you even tried." Prof. Montgomery was the kind of person who, with just one glare, could make you feel two inches tall—and I had no intention of provoking her wrath.

A soft knock on the door pulled Elizabeth and me from our conversation, and we both glanced up. Dr. Bryson stood in the doorway, his white coat slightly rumpled from a long day, and his sharp eyes zeroed in on me. "Valentina, do you have a moment?" he asked, his tone both casual and authoritative.

I jumped up from the couch, smoothing my shirt as I stepped toward him. "Yeah, what's going on?" I asked, curiosity piqued. Dr. Bryson's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "I've got a colectomy scheduled in ten minutes. Want to observe in the OR?"

My heart practically skipped a beat, and I could feel the adrenaline rush through me. "Oh, hell yes!" I nearly shouted, unable to hide my excitement. Dr. Bryson gave a satisfied nod before turning on his heel and heading down the hall.

I spun back to Elizabeth, who watched with an amused smile. "I'll be back after the surgery, promise!" I called out, practically vibrating with energy.

Elizabeth laughed softly, waving me off with a playful flick of her hand. "Go on, have fun in there! My daughter's visiting soon; she'll keep me entertained."

I flashed her a grateful smile, then darted out of the room, breaking into a jog to catch up to Dr. Bryson as he strode confidently down the corridor, ready to scrub in.

✿

Monday;

Back to reality. The weekend had flown by, but at least I managed to finish my assignment on time, sending it off to Prof. Vargas just before the clock struck midnight. Now, after her lecture, I found myself sitting in Midnight Mocha, nursing a coffee while the world passed by outside the window. The café was buzzing with quiet chatter, the soft hum of the espresso machine, and the occasional clinking of cups—just the kind of atmosphere that lulled me into a contemplative daze.

Lost in thought, I nearly jumped when my phone buzzed against the table. I fished it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen, my heart skipping a beat when I saw an email notification from Prof. Montgomery. My marks for the assignment. Finally. I tapped the email open, my fingers a little shaky with anticipation, and scrolled through her brief message, eyes scanning quickly for the grade.

My excitement crashed the moment I saw the number staring back at me. Sixty percent. Only sixty percent for all the effort I put into that assignment! My smile faded, and I stared at the screen, feeling a mix of disbelief and frustration. Sixty percent for this stupid assignment? How?

I was fuming, absolutely seething with anger. My thoughts were a blur of frustration as I tossed some money on the counter, grabbed my things, and made a beeline for the parking lot. I needed to confront her—Prof. Montgomery was going to hear from me. I got in my car, gripping the steering wheel tight, and sped back to campus, my mind racing as fast as the tires on the road. I barely registered the drive, only the burning need to get answers.

I reached campus in record time, storming across the grounds toward her office. She'd better be in there. I didn't even bother to knock, just shoved the door open, barging inside like a hurricane. Prof. Montgomery sat at her desk, eyes glued to her paperwork, not even sparing me a glance.

"Is decency a lost art for you?" she snapped, her tone icy and dismissive. "Knock before you enter."

Ignoring her, I shoved my phone toward her, displaying the email with my grade. "I worked my ass off on this assignment, and you give me sixty percent?" I demanded, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and disbelief.

She barely looked at the screen before shrugging, her expression bored. "You get what you get," she said flatly, immediately turning back to her work as if I was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

I felt my blood boil. "I typed like forty pages!" I exclaimed, my voice raising. "This is unfair, and you know it!"

Prof. Montgomery slammed her pen onto the desk with a sharp crack that made me flinch. She slowly raised her eyes, locking them onto mine with a glare that could freeze fire. "As far as I know, I am the professor," she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain. "I got my degree. You, on the other hand? Nothing."

As soon as the words left her mouth, I felt myself shrinking, the fire inside me fizzling into regret. I shouldn't have stormed in here like that. Prof. Montgomery leaned back in her chair, her eyes cold and unyielding. "Quality over quantity," she said, her voice dripping with scorn. "And to be really honest, what you wrote was absolute shit." She scoffed, shaking her head as if disgusted. "Now, why don't you get the hell out of my office before I decide to be really unfair and fail you outright?"

"Prof—" I tried, my voice breaking, but she cut me off with a sharp gesture.

"Out," she snapped, jabbing a finger toward the door. "Get the hell out of my office."

I didn't need to be told twice. I turned on my heel and rushed out, the door slamming behind me with a hollow thud. Outside, I leaned against the cool, unforgiving wall, my chest tight and my eyes stinging with unshed tears. I tried to steady my breathing, fighting back the urge to cry right there in the hallway. Why did I have to burst in like that? I felt so stupid, so reckless.

This was the biggest mistake of my life. I could already feel the weight of it settling on my shoulders, heavy and suffocating. Prof. Montgomery's words echoed in my mind, each one a reminder of just how out of line I'd been. It was going to be a long year, and I had a sinking feeling that she would make sure it was harder than it ever needed to be.