"His recovery is miraculous."
The doctor looked over the test results and noted the patient's condition.
"There's no longer any need to keep him intubated, and we'll probably be able to begin liquid nutrition soon. Also run more extensive tests on the regenerated tissue, in addition to the routine ones."
The assistant beside him nodded while updating the unidentified patient's chart.
Once the two doctors had left the room, Lisa entered. A bright smile lit up her face.
"The doctor said you no longer need to be intubated or sedated. That means you'll finally be able to talk. We'll have a chance to learn your name and contact your family," she said as she changed his dressings.
"Don't worry about the tests they're running—I'll make sure nothing abnormal shows up. But I'm afraid you won't be able to stay here much longer. The doctors are amazed by how fast you're healing. You'll have to finish your treatment at home."
She knew he couldn't hear her—he was still sedated—but she spoke to him anyway, keeping him updated on his condition and sometimes telling him a bit about herself. It was easy to open up when you knew the person listening couldn't hear or judge you.
A strange sense of familiarity had grown between them. Taking care of him had become a daily commitment that didn't weigh on her—in fact, she welcomed it. She had often wondered who he really was and had begun imagining all sorts of stories behind that bandaged face. Now the moment was getting closer, the moment when that man would finally speak and answer her. And even if he wasn't who she had imagined, it didn't matter. She had done what felt right.
---
After finishing her shift, she passed by Room 113 and saw that her patient was still asleep. She silently said goodbye and headed to the parking lot.
She had recently bought a second-hand teal hybrid Toyota with her savings and was very proud of it—just like she was proud of the small two-room apartment she had rented and furnished all on her own.
She opened the front door, hung her bag, jacket, and hat on the coat rack on the wall to the left, then slipped off her shoes and placed them neatly in the shoe rack underneath. She held her hands close to the warm radiator and smiled. She appreciated the central heating—it was nice to come home and find it already warm.
In the kitchen, she put away the groceries, leaving out what she needed to prepare a red pumpkin risotto.
She put on some music, poured herself a glass of white wine, and pulled the ingredients from the white cupboards beneath the counter. Then she tied on an apron with a drawing of a black sheep and got to work.
After dinner, she sat with her wine glass on the cushions in the bow window, watching the lights in the apartments across the street. From time to time, a silhouette passed behind a window, and Lisa imagined English stories and lives—so different from the place she came from.
Then she grabbed a blanket and a book, curled up deeper among the cushions, and let herself unwind.