I stood there on the sidewalk, people flowing around me like I was a rock in a stream. "If you want to help," I said under my breath, "just tell me how to cure her."

  The System flickered. For a moment I thought it wouldn't respond, it usually didn't when I talked to it directly. But then text appeared, different from the usual diagnostic readouts.

  I stared at that last line. You did what you could. It didn't feel like enough.

  My phone buzzed. A notification from the college group chat, the official one that only ever posted announcements nobody wanted to read. I almost ignored it but then I opened it.

  MANDATORY NOTICE - ALL 3RD YEAR STUDENTS

  By order of the Academic Council and Dean's Office:

  Hill Trek Activity - COMPULSORY ATTENDANCE

  Date: This Saturday - Monday (3 days/2 nights)

  Departure: 6:00 AM Saturday from Main Gate

  Return: Monday 6:00 PM

  This is a university-mandated team-building exercise. Attendance is COMPULSORY for all third-year medical students regardless of rotation schedules or personal commitments.

  Absences will only be granted for:

  Hospitalization (with medical certificate)

  Immediate family death (with documentation)

  Active quarantine orders

  All other absence requests will be DENIED.

  Failure to attend will result in:

  Official reprimand on academic record

  Possible impact on internal assessment scores

  Referral to disciplinary committee

  Report to Main Gate Saturday 5:45 AM sharp with appropriate hiking gear and supplies. List attached.

  Dr. Helena Cross

  Dean of Students

  The messages started immediately.

  Akki: Are you fucking kidding me right now

  Dev: I have surgery rotation, I can't just disappear for 3 days

  Priella: "Team building" my ass, this is punishment

  Random 4th year: They do this every year. It's actually mandatory. Someone tried to skip last year, got called to disciplinary hearing

  Murin: Well. Guess we're going hiking.

  Akki: I'm not going

  Murin: You're going

  Akki: The hell I am

  Random student: Can we get medical certificates for mental breakdown? Asking for myself

  I closed the chat. Saturday was in two days. Two days and I'd be stuck on a mountain doing trust falls or whatever bullshit team-building activity they'd planned while Zoya was starting chemotherapy and my rotations were falling apart and everything else was on fire. Perfect timing. Absolutely perfect.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  I finally walked into that restaurant, sat in the same booth from weeks ago. Ordered tea. The waiter brought it without really looking at me. I wrapped my hands around the cup and watched steam rise until it stopped rising.

  Morning pharmacology was supposed to start at eight but Professor Harlan showed up at 8:07 which meant we all sat there for seven minutes doing nothing. When he finally walked in he didn't apologize, just dropped his papers on the desk and started talking about COPD medications like we were already supposed to know what he was saying.

  I had my notebook open, pen in my hand. System was doing it’s work as always, but I kept thinking about Zoya lying in that recovery bed and nothing Professor Harlan said was sticking. Something about beta-agonists. Or maybe anticholinergics. The System was showing me an animation but I wasn't even looking it.

  Akki was three rows ahead, already half-asleep. Murin was taking notes like his life depended on it. Someone behind me was chewing gum loud enough to be annoying.

  Forty-five minutes later Harlan dismissed us and I'd written maybe half a sentence. COPD drugs - bronchodilators. That was it.

  The lecture hall emptied out. I was shoving my notebook in my bag when I realized I was supposed to be at the hospital already. Orthopedics clinic started at nine and it was 8:52.

  I grabbed my stuff and ran. Made it to the Ortho clinic at 9:08. Pierce was already seeing patients. His registrar saw me come in late and just shook his head but didn't say anything. I joined the other two third-years standing uselessly in the corner.

  The morning dragged. Pierce saw maybe twenty patients - broken wrists, ankle sprains, follow-ups from surgeries. We stood there and watched. Occasionally he'd ask a question and we'd fumble through an answer. Mostly we just existed as furniture.

  Around 11:30 Pierce stepped out to take a phone call. The registrar went with him. That left the three of us alone in the clinic room with the next patient already waiting outside.

  I went to get water from the cooler down the hall. That's when I ran into Kadnny

  He was coming out of the senior residents' office with two other fifth-years. Saw me and stopped.

  "You're the third-year who walked out yesterday." I was kind of unprepared and froze, "Just left clinic without telling anyone."

  I had my water cup in my hand. "Family emergency."

  "Right. Family emergency." He said it like I'd made it up. "You know what that looks like? Completely unprofessional. Disrespectful to everyone trying to teach you."

  The hallway wasn't crowded but there were enough people around that this was becoming a scene. A couple of nurses had slowed down to watch. Another resident stopped pretending to read his phone.

  "I submitted the documentation to Dr. Pierce's office," I said, which was a lie. I hadn't submitted anything yet because I'd been too busy dealing with Zoya.

  "Documentation." Kadnny stepped closer. "Third-years don't just walk out of rotations. Maybe someone needs to teach you about respect and professional responsibility—"

  The overhead speakers crackled to life.

  "CODE YELLOW. CODE YELLOW. ALL AVAILABLE MEDICAL PERSONNEL REPORT TO EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT IMMEDIATELY. MULTIPLE CASUALTY INCIDENT. MASS TRAUMA ACTIVATION. CODE YELLOW."

  The announcement repeated. Then again. Kadnny forgot about me instantly. He was already moving toward the stairs. His friends were running. The nurses who'd been watching us dropped everything and ran. The resident with his phone was sprinting toward the ER.

  I ran too. The stairwell was packed. People from every floor converging at once. I caught glimpses of Murin somewhere ahead. Someone behind me was swearing - maybe Priella from my rotation group.

  Hit the ground floor. The main corridor was chaos. Medical staff running from every direction. An announcement overhead repeating CODE YELLOW on loop.

  The ER entrance was ahead. Sirens everywhere. Through the windows I could see ambulances pulling up, lights flashing.

  Nurses were setting up triage stations. Attendings were shouting instructions. Residents were grabbing trauma carts. Someone was clearing out the waiting room, moving ambulatory patients to other areas to make space.

  Dr. Rowan Hayes, the ER attending I'd seen during previous emergencies, was standing in the center directing traffic like an orchestra conductor. He saw the flood of medical students arriving and pointed to a senior resident.

  "Get them organized! Fourth and fifth years to trauma bays! Third years to triage! Second years to family liaison! First years to supply runners! MOVE!"

  I got swept into a group of third-years being pushed toward the triage area. Someone shoved a clipboard into my hands. Someone else gave me a box of colored tags—red, yellow, green, black.

  The first ambulance pulled up. Then another. Then three more simultaneously.

  The doors opened and patients started flowing in.