**A Sense of Duty**
Faith stepped into the hospital ward.
“Good morning,” she said, approaching the first bed and placing a tray of syringes on the bedside table.
“How are you feeling today, Seraphina?”
The elderly woman turned onto her side and lifted her nightgown. Faith administered the injection and gently smoothed the fabric back over her thigh.
“That’s all. You’ve such a light touch, dear. I barely felt a thing,” Seraphina said in her raspy voice.
“Rest now.” Faith moved to the next patient. “Annabel, still no visitors? Perhaps if you gave me your son’s number or address, I could call and ask him to come.”
“No need. He sent me here to die,” the old woman murmured.
“Don’t say such things! You’ll be discharged soon. Your son should bring your clothes—you can’t go home in a hospital gown.”
“I won’t be going home. They’ll send me straight to the nursing home,” she snapped.
“That can’t be. You’ve family—a son.” Faith hesitated, syringe in hand.
“Do you have a mother?” the woman asked, her eyes red-rimmed.
“She passed three years ago,” Faith answered quietly.
“My condolences. But you’re both lucky. She didn’t live long enough to burden you.”
“How could you say that? I’d have given anything for more time with her.”
Annabel pressed her lips together and turned toward the wall. Faith finished the injection in silence and moved on to the next patient—a plump woman in a flowered dressing gown, always chewing something.
“Darling, weren’t my injections supposed to stop?”
“Extended through the week,” Faith said.
The woman sighed dramatically and lay on her stomach. “That ginger nurse yesterday—horrid! Nearly jumped off the bed.”
“Don’t exaggerate. There, done.”
“Already?”
Faith approached the last bed. “How are you feeling, Georgina? You look wonderful.”
“Thanks to you,” the woman said, turning.
“No, stay put—your injections were cancelled. You’re being discharged tomorrow. Aren’t you pleased?”
“What if I fall ill again at home? I live alone.”
“Why would you? Think positively. Home comforts heal.” Faith glanced at Annabel and lowered her voice. “You’ve a caring son.”
“Yes, but he’s so busy. Calls daily, but visiting’s another matter.”
“Perhaps hire a companion? Someone to stay with you.”
“Thank you, dear. I’ll speak with him.”
“Good. Now, excuse me.” Faith gathered the used syringes and left.
Fifteen minutes later, she returned to the treatment room.
“Finished?” Stella walked in. “God, these old folk exhaust me.”
“Why say that? We’ll be the same one day.”
“Not me. I’ll stay forever young.”
“Glad you’re so optimistic. That woman in Ward Four—her son hasn’t visited once. He’s sending her to a home straight from here.”
“Speaking of sons—that handsome bloke in Ward Four? Could give Hollywood a run for its money.”
“Ah, Gregory, Georgina’s son. She’s discharged tomorrow.”
“Shame, I quite fancied him. Is he single?”
“No idea. He always visited alone.”
“Bet his mother’s the meddling type.”
“Not at all. He’s just busy. She’s hiring a carer, actually—frightened of being alone.”
“Really? Offered you the job? Swap shifts with me tomorrow? Please?”
“Fine. But you hate evenings.”
“Would work round the clock for him. Thanks, love! Oh, he won’t know what hit him.”
“You’re ridiculous.” Faith left, shaking her head.
In the office, she copied Annabel’s address and her son’s number. The call was answered by a curt voice. When Faith explained, he exploded.
“Got nothing better to do? Mind your business!”
“But she hasn’t clothes—”
“I’ll send them. Don’t call again.” The line went dead.
“Charming,” Faith muttered. Perhaps the home was kinder than his neglect.
Her shift ended as she crossed paths with Gregory.
“Glad I caught you. I need a favour. Mum wants to hire you—she’s afraid alone. I’ll pay whatever you ask.”
“She doesn’t need a carer.”
“She trusts you. Says your injections don’t hurt. Get her a pet if you won’t come.”
“She hates animals. Let me take you for coffee—as thanks?”
They went. Over drinks, Gregory asked why she wasn’t married.
“Plenty of admirers—mostly elderly.”
He laughed. “Sorry, stupid question.”
From then on, he waited after her shifts. Soon, Georgina whispered to Faith, “You’d make a lovely wife for my son.”
Two weeks later, Gregory proposed. Faith, lonely since her mother’s passing, said yes.
But marriage revealed the truth—she was more carer than wife. Between hospital shifts, she cooked, cleaned, and tended to Georgina.
One evening, Faith snapped. “Does your mother *truly* need me, or is she pretending?”
Gregory barely looked up from his screen. “I married you so you’d care for her. I’m busy.”
Stunned, Faith left.
Days later, she realized she was expecting. Georgina visited, apologetic. “I thought he loved you.”
Gregory begged her back. “I can’t live without you.”
“Or your free nurse?”
Yet she returned. Their daughter’s birth softened everyone—even Georgina doted.
“Thought you’d be disappointed—your family only has boys.”
“Nonsense! Girls stay closer to their mothers. You’re blessed.”
And so peace returned. Misunderstandings happen, but love forgives. After all, what’s family without it?
