3rd December 2023 ,

It all began during one of our clinical postings. I (Lara), a second-year nursing student at Private University , and our group was assigned to a government medical college for hands-on training. That’s when my journey—our story—unexpectedly started.

Before the posting even began, I was in my hostel when we received the duty roster. I remember looking at it in surprise. Most of my shifts—almost all of them—were scheduled in the medicine ward. I stared at that sheet for a while, wondering, Why me? Why so many duties in the same department? A strange thought crossed my mind: Maybe there’s something behind this. Maybe fate has plans I don’t see yet.

The day arrived—my first day in the medicine ward.

The moment I stepped into that environment, my eyes caught sight of someone. He was wearing a white coat, carrying a small 📦 box filled with medical supplies—vials, syringes, cotton. He looked focused, moving from one patient to another, drawing blood, checking sugar levels, filling out investigation forms. (He was an intern doctor)

The very moment I saw him, I felt something shift. Something inside me whispered, I think I know him. It was strange—I had never seen him before, and yet, he felt familiar.

But I quickly pushed the thought aside. Focus, I told myself. You’re here to learn. You’re here to work.

And I had so much to learn—how to give injections, how to stimulate veins, how to speak to patients confidently. My excitement for nursing was still fresh and overwhelming.

And to be honest, I didn’t even like doctors at that point.

[Not in a jealous way. It’s just… I never liked how some of them behaved. Distant. Cold. Arrogant. I wasn’t someone who’d fall for a doctor—not me. Or at least, that’s what I believed back then.]

✨ The First Words---->>>

One of my seniors had once told me,

> “If you really want to learn, just follow the intern doctors or PGs around. Watch them. Ask them. You’ll pick up so much more than from textbooks.”

And I was eager—hungry, even—to learn. So, just like they said, I decided to follow him.

He was with a patient, preparing to draw blood. I slowly walked closer, watching curiously as he organized his equipment. He noticed me standing nearby.

Benj: “Do you want to try withdrawing the blood?”

Lara: “No... I don’t know how. I’m new to this.”

Benj: (stern face ) “It’s nothing. Just insert the needle into the vein—once you’re in, the blood flows.”

His hands were swift and practiced. As he spoke, his eyes met mine for a brief moment. Then, as casually as he had started, he finished drawing the blood, placed the used syringe in the box, handed the vials to the patient, and walked away.

I stood there, silently amazed.

Wow… that looked so easy.

I couldn’t say it out loud, but something about the way he spoke, the way he moved—it stuck with me.

Later that day, I found myself gossiping with my friends.

> “Hey guys,” I said with a spark in my eyes, “that doctor asked me to withdraw blood. He gave me a chance! But I didn’t do it as I'm new here . Still, I don’t know why—I feel like he’s from my tribe.......

And I kept saying it again and again to them.

He’s from my tribe. Maybe he belongs to my same culture.

Even though he was still just a stranger, something deep inside whispered otherwise.

Driven by this strange excitement, I kept moving from one unit to another that day, restless and determined.

> “I’m going to learn something new today,” I told myself,

“By hook or by crook.”

5th December 2023

It was still the early days of our posting, and I was moving from one patient to another, learning what I could. One afternoon, I happened to be in the same unit where he was again—Benj.

But fate, it seems, wasn’t done yet.

As I moved to another section, I saw him again—working quietly, drawing blood from a patient. Something inside me pulled me back. I walked toward him, this time with a little more courage.

Lara:

> “Can I try withdrawing the blood?”

He looked at me—curious, calm, surprised even.

Benj:

> “Sure. If you want to, go ahead.”

I took the syringe, hands slightly trembling, heart racing. I tried to act confident, but in my nervousness, I moved too quickly.

Benj: (softly but firmly)

> “Hey, slow down. Why are you rushing?”

He gently placed his hand over mine, steadying the syringe, guiding me.

And just like that—together—we did it. The needle went in smoothly, and the blood flowed.

It wasn’t just a medical moment. It was something else. Something quiet and real.

When it was done, I couldn’t stop smiling. I had just withdrawn blood for the first time—and I had learned it with his help.

Benj:

> “Good. That’s how you do it. You’ll get better each time.”

Right then, one of his fellow doctor, Dr. Olive, called him over.

Dr. Olive:

> “Benj! Come here for a moment.”

Without hesitation, he packed up his kit and left to assist him

And I just stood there for a second, still holding the vial, feeling proud—warm. I had done something new today. Something small, but it mattered. I felt it.

Later that day, I couldn’t stop talking about it to my new friends.

> “That doctor helped me learn how to draw blood today,” I told them, my eyes lighting up. “I don’t even know his name… but I learned something because of him. I really did.”

They laughed, smiled, listened.

And inside my heart, I kept replaying the moment—his steady hand, his calm voice, the way he didn’t hesitate to help a stranger.

We still didn’t know each other’s names. But something had already begun.

✨️STEPPING INTO HER OWN

The next morning, Lara was once again assigned to the same unit—where Benj was also posted. But neither of them was paying much attention to the other.

Benj was focused, as always—moving from patient to patient, completing his tasks with silent precision. He barely looked at anyone unless it was necessary. There was nothing flirtatious or distracted about him. His world revolved around responsibilities, rounds, and results.

To him, Lara was just another nursing student—present, learning, doing her part. Nothing more.

And to Lara, though that quiet thought about him still lived in a small corner of her mind, it wasn’t her focus. Not anymore. Her world had shifted too. She was learning fast—moving with confidence, asking questions, staying alert.

That day, she worked alongside her fellow students and stayed near one of the busy junior doctors who was managing a heavy patient load. The doctor noticed her attentiveness and eagerness.

Doctor:

> “You—can you check this patient’s vitals?”

Lara nodded and stepped forward without hesitation. She took the patient’s pulse, measured the blood pressure, noted the temperature and respiratory rate—working quietly but with care. She handed the chart back.

The doctor gave a short nod.

Doctor:

> “You did that well. You know how to handle vitals properly. Good. I can assign you more tasks now.”

That small moment made her feel empowered. It wasn’t praise she needed—but trust. And that trust motivated her more than anything.

Throughout the day, she assisted with medication preparation, practiced reading reports, and learned hands-on skills from different doctors and staff. Everyone was busy, but she stood out—not by speaking loud, but by being present, willing, and capable.

Even though she occasionally caught glimpses of Benj working—serious, absorbed, unaffected—she didn’t expect anything from him. He was simply part of the environment now. She didn’t chase his attention. Instead, she chased growth. Experience. Confidence.

And by the end of the day, she had gathered all three.

Later, chatting with a few newly made friends, she shared her joy.

> “I learned so much today. Even the doctor let me handle things alone.”

She didn’t mention Benj. Not this time.

Because this day wasn’t about him.

This day was about her becoming herself.

The morning air of December 6th,2023 ,carried a calm energy as Lara walked into the medicine ward, the same ward she had begun to feel more and more comfortable in. The crisp chill of the season was no match for the quiet excitement brewing inside her — today felt different.

She wasn’t nervous anymore. Her hands didn’t tremble when she took vitals. Her voice had grown steadier when speaking with patients. She had started to feel like a real part of the team, not just a student shadowing from the sidelines.

As she moved from one bed to another, learning and practicing with focus, she began noticing the people around her — students from other nursing institutions, each with their own pace and style, each new to her but walking a journey parallel to hers. Conversations started naturally. Shared instructions turned into shared stories. Laughter trickled in between rounds and charting. By midday, they didn’t feel like strangers anymore — they felt like companions.

And then, amidst all the newness, came something even more unexpected — a familiar face from her high school days. That brief reunion in the hospital corridor, filled with warmth and light chatter, made her heart smile. It reminded her how small the world could feel at times, how sweet it was to reconnect with someone from a different chapter of life.

That day, Lara didn’t look for anyone.

She wasn’t waiting for something magical or dramatic to happen.

She was present. She was learning. She was growing.

And when she walked out of the ward that evening, she carried with her not just knowledge, but new friendships, old memories, and the quiet confidence that she was truly finding her place.