When Ziana finally stepped out of Theatre Two, the cold air hit her skin and the corridor noise rushed back into her ears. The theatre doors closed behind her with that familiar heavy click, and for a moment she just stood there, breathing slowly, letting her heartbeat settle. Emergency surgeries always left a certain kind of aftertaste in the body—like adrenaline mixed with exhaustion. She could still smell blood on her gloves even though she had removed them, could still hear the suction machine in her mind, could still feel the tension in her shoulders.
But there was something else sitting on her chest now.
Something she didn't want to think about.
Dr Maleek Chol.
The way he spoke. The way he looked at her like he was already comfortable. The way he said her name like he was tasting it.
Ziana exhaled sharply and started walking, forcing her brain back into its normal professional rhythm. She didn't come back home to get distracted by a surgeon with too much confidence and an obsession with Afrobeats.
She came back to work.
She entered the theatre changing room and immediately the heat and noise hit her. The place was full of people moving around, pulling off gowns, scrubbing stains, complaining, laughing. It was the same messy comfort she remembered. The kind of room where stress and jokes mixed like it was normal.
Anita was already there, seated on a bench, fanning herself dramatically.
"Eh," Anita said the moment she saw her. "Ziana, you're still alive?"
Ziana raised a brow. "Why wouldn't I be alive?"
Anita laughed. "Because that case was bad. The way blood was coming out, I even thought we were opening a tap."
Ziana chuckled softly as she untied her cap and shook her hair slightly. Her bun was tight, but she could already feel the headache starting at the back of her neck.
Another nurse walked in and paused, staring at Ziana like she wasn't sure if she was seeing correctly.
"Wait…" the nurse said slowly. "You're Ziana Gee?"
Ziana looked at her and nodded politely. "Yes."
The nurse's face lit up. "My God! I've heard about you. They said you used to work here before you travelled."
Ziana smiled lightly. "I did."
The nurse shook her head like she couldn't believe it. "You don't even look stressed. You people who are good in theatre, you're always calm like robots."
Ziana laughed softly. "I'm not a robot."
"Then why are you acting like you didn't just finish an emergency ex lap?" the nurse pressed, half joking.
Ziana shrugged. "I'm tired inside."
Anita clapped her hands. "That's what I'm saying. Ziana is always like this. Calm face, but inside she's panicking like everybody else."
Ziana rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed. It was small and gentle, the kind of smile she couldn't help. The kind that made people think she was soft even when she was stubborn.
A male intern passing by the doorway slowed down, glanced at her, then glanced again like his brain needed confirmation. He entered slowly, holding his file against his chest like a shield.
"Excuse me…" he said carefully. "You're the scrub tech from Theatre Two?"
Ziana nodded. "Yes."
He stared at her like she was some rare species. "You were fast. Like… very fast."
Ziana blinked. "That's my job."
The intern smiled awkwardly. "No, like… you were passing instruments before he even asked. Even Dr Chol didn't complain."
The room went quiet for half a second.
Then Anita burst out laughing. "Ah! Dr Chol didn't complain? That's a miracle on its own."
Everyone laughed.
Ziana shook her head, but her cheeks warmed slightly. She didn't know why that statement felt like a compliment with weight. Like it meant more than it should.
The intern continued, still staring at her. "Are you a senior tech?"
Ziana nodded. "Yes. I am."
The intern's eyes widened. "But you're so young."
Ziana smiled. "I'm not that young."
The intern shook his head. "No, no, you are. You look like you're still a student."
Ziana sighed, half amused. "I've been working for years."
Anita leaned back and grinned. "That's what happens when you have a smooth face and good skin. You'll suffer. People will keep asking you for ID until you're forty."
The nurse beside her laughed. "Even her smile is like wife material."
Ziana's brows shot up. "Please don't start."
Anita snapped her fingers. "Ah ah! They're right. Ziana's smile is too soft. It's the kind of smile that makes men start behaving like fools."
Ziana scoffed. "It's just a smile."
"No," the nurse insisted. "It's not just a smile. It's like… you look kind. Like you won't shout at someone even if they annoy you."
Ziana paused, then spoke honestly. "I can shout."
Anita laughed so hard she almost choked. "She said she can shout! This one! Ziana, stop lying to us."
Ziana rolled her eyes again, but she couldn't hide her amusement. It felt good, being surrounded by this energy again. It felt like she belonged.
Then another voice came from the corner, quieter, older.
A senior theatre nurse who had been working at Avalon longer than most of them finally spoke.
"Ziana Gee…" she said, slowly nodding. "I remember you."
Ziana turned and her smile softened. "Sister Margaret."
Margaret's eyes swept over her like she was checking her growth. "You left and came back even better. Your hands are still sharp."
Ziana's chest warmed at the words. Compliments from Margaret were rare. If Margaret praised you, it meant you were truly good.
Margaret continued, "But tell me something… why didn't you pursue medicine? With your brain, you could have been a doctor."
The room went quiet again, like everybody suddenly wanted to hear the answer.
Ziana's smile faded slightly, but not in a sad way. More like… thoughtful.
"I thought about it," she admitted. "But I love surgery. I love the theatre. I love being part of the team without being the one making all the decisions. I like my role."
Anita raised her brows. "So you don't want to be called doctor?"
Ziana shrugged. "It's not about the title. I just like what I do."
Margaret nodded slowly, approving. "That's a mature answer."
The intern still looked confused. "But… you went abroad. You studied. People who go abroad always come back with big dreams."
Ziana smiled again, calm and soft. "This is my dream too."
That shut him up.
Anita clapped again. "Okay okay, enough. Everybody leave my sister alone. Let her breathe."
Ziana laughed quietly, pulling off her scrub top and reaching for her bag. She could feel the sweat on her back, the tiredness settling into her bones now that the adrenaline was gone. But even with exhaustion, she felt… proud. She hadn't lost her touch. She hadn't come back rusty. She had walked into Avalon after years away and still moved like she belonged there.
Still, as she sat on the bench to change her shoes, her mind betrayed her.
Chol's voice replayed in her head.
"In my theatre… we work with energy."
"I know you now."
Ziana frowned slightly and shook her head, as if she could physically shake him out of her thoughts.
No.
She wasn't going to start acting like a teenager.
Not because of some surgeon with a nice voice and too much audacity.
She stood up, adjusting her scrubs again, ready to step out.
Then Margaret's voice came again, low and slightly amused.
"And Ziana…"
Ziana turned. "Yes, Sister Margaret?"
Margaret looked at her with that knowing look older women always had.
"Your kindness is your power," Margaret said. "But don't let anybody mistake it for weakness."
Ziana's throat tightened slightly. She nodded once.
"I won't."
Margaret smiled. "Good."
Ziana walked out of the changing room with her bag on her shoulder, her face calm, her steps steady. The corridor was busy again, nurses rushing, students running around, patients' families waiting with worried faces.
And Ziana Gee moved through it all like she had always been there.
Like Avalon belonged to her too.
But somewhere inside her, a small part of her already knew…
Avalon wasn't the only thing waiting for her.
Because Maleek Chol was the kind of man who didn't notice you halfway.
When he noticed you…
It meant he was already planning something.