TORN BETWEEN BILLIONAIRES; A NURSE'S DILEMMA

By 5 pm in the evening, Elena felt the weight of the day dragging down every part of her body. Ward B was still full, Babies cried, Machines beeped. A fan squeaked the same tired sound over and over. She rubbed her eyes for a second before Patricia walked in with her usual steps.

“Elena, you will cover the night shift,” Patricia said.

Elena blinked. “Tonight too?”

“Yes. You can manage.” Patricia waved her hand and walked away before Elena could come against her.

Elena watched her leave, her heart falling off. She had already been on her feet since morning. Every bone in her body begged for rest, but the clinic needed hands. It always did.

She swallowed hard and tightened her ponytail. “I can do it,” she said to herself. “Just get through the next few hours.”

She took a cup of coffee from the small pantry and drank half of it even though it tasted bitter. The caffeine made her stomach turn, but she needed it more than anything.

By 7 pm, she was moving from one patient to another with slow legs but sharp focus. She checked drips, cleaned wounds, and pen down vitals. Her mind felt cloudy, but she pushed through. She had done double shifts before, but today felt heavier, almost like the air itself was pressing on her shoulders.

Around 8:30 pm, the doors to Ward B burst open. A woman ran in while holding a teenage boy in her arms. The boy’s chest rose and fell in short, no breath. His face was pale, and his lips had a faint blue shade.

“Help! He cannot breathe!” the woman cried.

Elena rushed to her. “Put him here. Quickly.”

The woman laid the boy on the bed. His breathing sounded tight, like he was trying to pull air through a narrow straw.

“What is his name?” Elena asked while grabbing the stethoscope.

“Joel,” the woman said in tears. “He has asthma. His inhaler finished. I tried to get a new one but I'm down currently .”

Elena listened to his chest. The breath sounds were faint.

She raised her voice. “I need oxygen!”

A nurse hurried over with an old oxygen cylinder. Elena opened the valve and placed the mask over the boy’s face. His breathing was still fast.

“Come on, Joel,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”

She checked the emergency tray. It held only one container of bronchodilator, and the label was faded. She did not have the luxury to doubt it.

She prepared the injection. Her hands shook slightly from exhaustion, but she grabbed them.

“Mom, hold his hand,” Elena said.

The mother nodded and gripped Joel’s fingers. Tears rolled down her face.

Elena injected the medication and watched the boy closely. His chest kept rising too quickly. Every few seconds, he gasped for air.

“Please work,” she whispered.

Seconds passed. Long, tense seconds.

Then Joel’s breaths began to slow. They were still shallow but more even. His hands relaxed a little. The tight wheeze in his lungs softened.

His mother cried out in relief. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Elena breathed out and checked his pulse. A little bit normal. Not perfect, but safe for now.

She touched the boy’s shoulder gently. “You scared us, Joel. Rest for a bit. You are safe.”

He gave a soft nod.

As the danger passed, Elena stepped back. Her vision blurred for a moment.

She excused herself quietly and walked out of Ward B. Her legs carried her down the hallway almost on their own until she reached the small supply closet near the back of the clinic. She opened the door, managed to get in, and closed it behind her.

The room was dark except for the small bulb hanging from the ceiling. Shelves lined the walls, holding gloves, bandages, and boxes of masks. The smell of disinfectant filled her nose.

Elena leaned against the door and let out a shaky breath. Her hands trembled as the reality of what just happened washed over her. She had saved Joel’s life with limited supplies, low energy, and a mind that felt like it was going to be his last day.

Tears rolled down from her eyes. She covered her mouth with both hands and let her shoulders shake. She cried quietly, trying not to be heard outside. The stress, the endless pressure, the fear of losing a patient, all of it poured out.

For a moment, she did not feel like a nurse. She felt like a tired girl who had given everything and still needed to give more.

She did not know how long she stayed there before the door opened slowly.

“Elena?” a gentle voice said.

She hurriedly wiped her face. “I am fine,” she said quickly.

Dr Reyes stepped inside. The elderly physician had grey hair, soft eyes, and a habit of noticing when someone was going through a lot. He closed the door and leaned on the wall beside her.

“You are not fine,” he said quietly. “I saw you run in here.”

Elena swallowed and looked down. “I just needed a minute.”

“I heard about the boy. You handled it well.”

“I nearly could not. We barely had supplies. I was so scared.” Her voice cracked again.

Dr Reyes nodded slowly. “It is not your fault. You are doing the work of three people. This clinic asks too much from you.”

Elena shook her head. “These patients have no one else.”

“And you have no rest,” he replied. His voice was soft, almost fatherly. “You deserve better than this place. You deserve a job where you are valued and supported. A clinic should lift you, not use you.”

Elena looked at him, surprised. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he said. “You have a gift. You care in a way many do not. One day, you will work somewhere safer and kinder. Somewhere that fits your heart.”

Her eyes filled again, but this time with hope.

Dr Reyes touched her shoulder lightly. “Take two minutes to breathe. Then come back when you are ready. Not because they expect it, but because you choose to.”

Elena nodded slowly. She wiped her cheeks once more. “Thank you, doctor.”

He gave her a small smile and stepped out, leaving the door slightly open so she would not feel trapped.

Elena stood still for a moment, breathing in and out, letting her heart settle.

She was tired, but she was not broken.

She straightened her scrubs, pushed the door open, and walked back toward Ward B.

Her body felt weak, but her purpose felt strong.

The night was not over yet.