I must have dozed off again, because the next thing I heard was the sound of footsteps. Soft, careful ones. When I opened my eyes, the light in the clinic room had changed. It was still daytime, but the sun had shifted. The room was quieter now, filled with that strange stillness that only comes after exhaustion.
The door opened with a quiet creak, and Milo stepped in again. This time, he wasn’t alone. Beside him was a man in a white coat, the doctor. He looked older, with short gray hair and sharp but kind eyes behind wire-framed glasses. His face was serious but not cold, and his steps were steady and practiced, like someone who had seen everything before.
"You’re awake again," Milo said gently, giving me a small smile.
I nodded slowly, trying to sit up a little straighter, but my arms felt too heavy. The blanket over me shifted as I moved, and I noticed my legs were still weak, my whole body like it had been wrung out.
The doctor came closer and placed a small tablet-like board on the bedside table. "Don’t try to get up too quickly," he said, his voice calm and professional. "You fainted because of severe dehydration and exhaustion. You’ll need to take it easy for a while."
He looked at the drip still attached to my arm and made a few notes. Then he pulled out a small flashlight and leaned closer.
"Let me take a quick look at you," he said.
I nodded, too tired to speak. Milo stayed to the side, quiet and respectful, his hands folded in front of him.
The doctor gently shone the light into my eyes, then checked my pulse by placing two fingers on my wrist. His touch was firm but not rough. He pressed a stethoscope to my chest and asked me to take slow, deep breaths. I obeyed, even though each breath felt like it scraped against the inside of my ribs.
"Hm," he murmured under his breath. "Still a bit weak."
He straightened and looked me in the eyes. "You’ve been severely neglected," he said, not unkindly. "You haven’t eaten properly in at least two days, and you’ve had no water for nearly twenty-four hours. No one should be treated like that, not even for punishment."
I lowered my eyes, my cheeks burning. A part of me felt embarrassed to be seen , frail, broken, like some injured thing someone had thrown into a corner and forgotten about.
He must’ve noticed my silence because he added gently, "You’re not weak. Your body’s just doing what it’s supposed to do. It’s shutting down to protect you."
I bit my lip, holding back tears. That sentence made something ache in my chest. So much of my pain had been dismissed by others that hearing someone say it wasn’t my fault felt unreal.
"You need more rest," he continued. "And food. The drip will keep you hydrated for now, but once you’re strong enough, you need to start eating solid meals. Something easy, porridge, fruits, broth."
I gave a weak nod. "Okay..."
The doctor glanced at Milo. "Has she had anything since she woke up?"
"Just a little water," Milo replied. "She’s still very weak."
"Good," the doctor said. "That’s a start."
He looked back at me. "I’ll have the nurse bring in some light food later. Don’t force yourself, just a few bites to begin with. And no stress. I mean it. Your body needs to recover, and pushing yourself too soon could be dangerous."
My throat tightened. No stress? That felt impossible in a place . But I appreciated his words all the same. He didn’t look at me with hatred or judgment, just concern. Like I was a person. Like I mattered.
He gently patted the edge of the bed. "I’ll check on you again in a few hours. If you feel dizzy, call someone. Don’t try to stand up alone."
I nodded again, grateful, though I couldn’t quite find the right words to say thank you.
The doctor gave Milo a short nod, then quietly left the room.
As the door clicked shut behind him, I turned to Milo.
My voice felt small, too soft for the quiet room. "You stayed..."
Milo shrugged, his expression calm but warm. "I figured you might want someone here. It’s... hard waking up in a place . I know what it feels like." 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂
He wasn’t trying to make it about himself, but I could tell by the way he said it, the quiet weight in his voice, that he meant it. That he really did know. That he wasn’t just being kind for the sake of it. He had felt this kind of emptiness before.
I stared at him, unsure what to say. My whole life lately had been full of cold glances, cruel smirks, sharp voices and slammed doors. This gentleness from someone I barely knew felt unreal. Like a dream I might wake up from.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice trembling as I said it. "You didn’t have to. No one ever... no one usually does."
He sat back down in the chair next to my bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I know. That’s why I did."
I looked down at my hands resting on the blanket. They were pale, weak-looking. My fingers still shook slightly from exhaustion and the IV drip made the inside of my elbow ache. I hated how fragile I looked. I hated that they, the triplets, had turned me to this. Broken. Powerless. And they didn’t care.
He was quiet for a moment, as if weighing what to say. Then he spoke softly, "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Lisa. You’re here. You survived. That alone says more about you than they ever will."
My breath caught in my throat. No one had ever said that to me before.
"Why are you being nice to me?" I asked, needing to know. "You don’t even know me."
He looked down for a second, then back up at me. "Because I remember what it felt like. To be alone. To feel like no one would care if you just... disappeared."
His voice grew quieter, and I realized something heavy lived behind his eyes. Something painful. "No one should feel that way."
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded.