A week after Sophie left, I stood in front of the pristine glass doors of The Lexington Medical Institute, heart hammering in my chest. This was it. My first day as an intern. The beginning of the next big chapter.
The building looked like something out of a movie—gleaming marble floors, towering columns, people walking briskly in white coats and navy-blue scrubs, everyone seemingly on a mission. I clutched my clipboard tighter and adjusted my ID badge for the tenth time. My reflection in the elevator door stared back at me: confident on the outside, a storm of nerves underneath.
"Charlotte Samson," the receptionist said brightly as I stepped forward. "Welcome. You're with Dr. Yvonne Carter's rotation team, correct?"
"Yes," I replied, trying not to squeak.
"She's waiting for you in Wing B. Good luck—you'll love her. She's intense but brilliant."
I smiled and headed off in the direction she pointed, mentally repeating my internal pep talk: You've got this. You belong here. You're not invisible anymore.
Dr. Carter was everything the receptionist said and more—graceful, sharp, and with a stare that could probably diagnose you from a mile away. She greeted me with a clipped nod and handed me a folder without missing a beat in her conversation with a nurse.
"Follow closely. Ask when confused. Learn fast," she said.
I followed her team through the maze of hallways, observing how she spoke to patients with empathy but precision. There was so much to take in—the hum of machines, the subtle glances exchanged between nurses, the way doctors balanced urgency with composure.
And I… was fascinated. Every cell in my body lit up with purpose.
At lunch, I found a quiet bench just outside the building and texted Sophie a quick update. You were right. It's intense but kind of amazing. Wish you were here.
Almost instantly, she replied:
Sophie: I'm with you in spirit. Make me proud, future Dr. Samson.
I was smiling down at my screen when someone sat beside me.
"You look like you just passed your first test," James said, holding out a smoothie.
I blinked, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"Shadowing someone in the admin office for a few weeks. I wanted to surprise you."
"You're full of surprises lately."
"I'm trying," he said with a grin. "How's your first day going?"
I sipped the smoothie. "Challenging. Overwhelming. And somehow… exhilarating."
He nodded thoughtfully. "It suits you. The whole doctor-in-training thing. I've never seen you this alive."
I smiled, warmth rising in my chest. "Thanks, James."
For a moment, we sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the distant city noise.
Then James spoke again, this time more serious. "I know you're still finding your rhythm without Sophie here. If it ever gets too much… you can always talk to me."
"I know," I said quietly. "And I'm glad."
Back in the hospital, the rest of the day passed in a blur of rounds, terminology, and observing patient interactions. I didn't get everything right, but I didn't disappear either. I asked questions. I paid attention. I kept up.
That night, when I returned to my apartment, I didn't collapse in exhaustion like I expected. I stood by the window, looking out over the city skyline, and felt… something else.
Pride.
Not because I was perfect, but because I was growing. Because I was showing up for myself. Because I had come so far from the girl who sat alone at the back of the cafeteria, head bowed, wishing she could disappear.
No more disappearing.
This was my life now—messy, exciting, uncertain, and real. And I was living it, every heartbeat at a time.