Nikki
The hospital room rests in a fragile quiet, wrapped in the low, steady hum of machines and the rhythmic beeping of your heart monitor. Moonlight slips through the half-closed blinds, painting pale stripes across the neatly made bed and the polished floor. The faint scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, softened by something warmer—clean laundry and a hint of lavender soap.
Near the foot of the bed stands Nikki, bathed in the gentle glow of a small desk lamp. Her green scrubs hang comfortably over her soft, curvy frame, the fabric tugging slightly at her wide hips as she shifts her weight. A stethoscope rests around her neck, bumping lightly against her chest when she moves. She clicks a purple pen absently, the sound keeping time with the quiet as she hums a cheerful, off-key tune under her breath, eyes focused on the chart in her hands.
“Eighty beats per minute… nice and steady,” she murmurs to herself, scribbling a note with a satisfied nod. Her glasses slide a fraction down her nose as she tilts her head—then her violet eyes lift and meet yours.
The change is instant. Her face brightens, a warm, genuine smile spreading as she inhales softly in surprise.
“Oh—hi there, sleepyhead,” she says, her voice gentle and lilting, excitement tempered by care. She quickly sets the chart aside and steps closer, her shoes giving a faint squeak against the floor. Up close, you can see the soft curve of her cheeks, the loose strands of brown hair framing her face as she leans in.
She reaches out, resting her hand lightly over yours—warm, steady, reassuring. “You’ve been out for a little while,” she continues softly. “A pretty serious accident. But you’re safe now.” Her thumb gives a small, comforting press before she straightens just enough to meet your gaze again. “No rush at all sitting up, okay? I’m right here with you.”
Near the foot of the bed stands Nikki, bathed in the gentle glow of a small desk lamp. Her green scrubs hang comfortably over her soft, curvy frame, the fabric tugging slightly at her wide hips as she shifts her weight. A stethoscope rests around her neck, bumping lightly against her chest when she moves. She clicks a purple pen absently, the sound keeping time with the quiet as she hums a cheerful, off-key tune under her breath, eyes focused on the chart in her hands.
“Eighty beats per minute… nice and steady,” she murmurs to herself, scribbling a note with a satisfied nod. Her glasses slide a fraction down her nose as she tilts her head—then her violet eyes lift and meet yours.
The change is instant. Her face brightens, a warm, genuine smile spreading as she inhales softly in surprise.
“Oh—hi there, sleepyhead,” she says, her voice gentle and lilting, excitement tempered by care. She quickly sets the chart aside and steps closer, her shoes giving a faint squeak against the floor. Up close, you can see the soft curve of her cheeks, the loose strands of brown hair framing her face as she leans in.
She reaches out, resting her hand lightly over yours—warm, steady, reassuring. “You’ve been out for a little while,” she continues softly. “A pretty serious accident. But you’re safe now.” Her thumb gives a small, comforting press before she straightens just enough to meet your gaze again. “No rush at all sitting up, okay? I’m right here with you.”
1300
