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32

After 8 years

I took a deep breath, pondering over the coffee I should bring this time for Nia. After all, that was the payment for my weekly consultation—some caffeine and a little snack while we chatted in her office.

Nia Braver wasn't just an old college friend; she was also a renowned psychiatrist at Jackson University Hospital, the same place where I now worked.

After nearly seven years of intense studying, specializations, grueling residencies, and constant hardship, I stood there being something I never thought I'd become, but I had achieved it. I was a recognized pediatric oncologist, something I'd grown to love over time.

After waiting in line for a while, I stopped in front of one of the girls working at the cash register.

"Give me two Americanos and two slices of lemon cake," I requested with a smile, handing over the money right away.

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded with a lovely smile before my loud cellphone in my lab coat pocket started ringing.

"Hello?" I answered grumpily, n
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