84 • The Patient's Awake

◇ MYKAELA ◇

Every tick of the clock on the wall felt like a prison sentence.

I sat in one of the patient chairs, the bright lights above me seemingly buzzing louder with each passing second. This freshly painted consultation room looked bigger than the one Enzo and I sat in almost two weeks ago. The furniture looked brand new. It was Dr. Sharma's clinic—her newest one here in Schenectady.

Dr. Larissa Sharma, a family friend, was my gynecologist when I was still living here, before I got into med school. The doctor sat across from me in her swivel chair, her fairly wrinkled hands crinkling the sheets of paper on her desk.

They would end this torturous wait and determine the course of my future. Right here. Right now.

I scratched the itch under the strap of my mask, trying my best to sit still, nervously waiting for Dr. Sharma's confirmation.

She just came back with my test results. Despite her mask, I could tell she was giving me a reassuring smile. But beneath her smile, her conc