The Thin Line Between Life and Death

The hospital lobby was a chaotic swirl of activity as Hasib and Nafisa burst through the glass doors, Newton slumped unconscious over Hasib's shoulder. The fluorescent lights cast a cold, sterile glow on the white walls, and the faint smell of disinfectant stung their noses. Hasib's heart pounded in his chest, his voice breaking as he shouted for help.

"Doctor! Somebody help! My friend is dying!"

A young nurse sitting at the reception desk immediately jumped to her feet, her face pale as she grabbed a nearby phone. Within moments, a stretcher was wheeled toward them by two nurses and a doctor in green scrubs.

"Lay him down here!" the doctor ordered briskly, his tone calm yet urgent.

Hasib carefully lowered Newton onto the stretcher, his blood-soaked shirt sticking to his friend's limp body. Newton's head lolled to one side, his breaths shallow and raspy.

"We need to move him to the emergency room now," the doctor said, signaling to the nurses.

The stretcher began rolling toward the emergency doors, the wheels squeaking with each hurried turn. Hasib and Nafisa rushed behind it, their hands gripping the edges of the stretcher as if their touch could somehow keep Newton tethered to life.

"Stay with me, Newton," Hasib whispered, his voice trembling.

Newton's eyelids fluttered weakly, his gaze unfocused. He was trying to say something, his lips barely moving. Hasib leaned closer, straining to hear, but the words were garbled, lost in a haze of pain and exhaustion.

"He's still aware," Nafisa said softly, tears streaming down her face. "He knows we're here."

The nurses pushed through the double doors of the emergency room and wheeled Newton into the operation theater, the sterile environment humming with the sounds of beeping monitors and the rustle of scrubs. Hasib and Nafisa stopped just outside the theater, staring through the small observation window as the medical team sprang into action.

Inside the operation theater, the atmosphere was grim. Newton's vitals were dropping rapidly. The lead surgeon, a seasoned woman with sharp eyes and steady hands, barked orders to her team.

"We need to stabilize him before we remove the bullets. Administer 10 milligrams of epinephrine and prepare the defibrillator!"

The nurses moved swiftly, attaching pads to Newton's chest while another nurse pushed a syringe of epinephrine into his IV.

"Pulse is weak," one of the junior doctors said, his voice tight with worry.

"Charge to 200 joules," the lead surgeon ordered.

The nurse pressed a button, and the defibrillator whined as it powered up. The surgeon placed the paddles on Newton's chest.

"Clear!"

Newton's body jerked violently, but the monitors remained flat-lined.

"No response," the junior doctor said, his voice tinged with panic.

Hasib watched from the window, his face pale as his hands pressed against the glass. The scene inside seemed to slow down, the frantic movements of the doctors turning into a surreal dance. His ears rang, drowning out the sounds of the hospital. For a moment, it felt like he was underwater, the world muted and distant.

Nafisa touched his arm, her own face pale with fear. "Hasib, he's—"

He cut her off, shaking his head. "Don't say it. He's going to make it."

Inside the theater, the surgeon's voice cut through the tension. "Charge to 300 joules. This is our last chance!"

The female doctor gripped the paddles tightly, her face grim as she pressed them against Newton's chest once more.

"Clear!"

Newton's body convulsed again, and for a heart-stopping moment, the room fell silent. Then, a beep. Another. And another.

"He's back!" one of the nurses exclaimed, relief washing over her face.

The surgeon let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Good. Let's move fast and get those bullets out."

Hasib felt his knees go weak as he heard the beeping from the monitors. The world around him came back into focus, and he let out a shaky breath, clutching the edge of the window for support.

"They did it," Nafisa whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "He's alive."

Hasib nodded, his vision blurring with tears he didn't bother to wipe away. "Yeah. He's alive."

An hour later, the operation was over. Newton had been stabilized, the bullets removed, and his wounds stitched up. The medical team filed out one by one, their faces tired but satisfied.

Hasib and Nafisa stepped forward, hoping to get some answers, but the doctors brushed past them, too preoccupied to talk. Only the female doctor lingered behind, her face calm but her eyes betraying a hint of something deeper—sadness, relief, or perhaps something else.

"Are you his family?" she asked, her tone soft but professional.

Hasib shook his head. "No. I'm his best friend."

The doctor studied him for a moment, her gaze lingering as if searching for something. "Best friend," she repeated, almost to herself.

Hasib noticed that her eyes were slightly red, as though she had been crying. The realization struck him like a jolt. Was she crying in the operating theater? Why would she cry for Newton?

Before he could ask, the doctor turned to Nafisa. "And you? What's your relationship with him?"

Nafisa smiled faintly. "I'm his friend."

The doctor raised an eyebrow, her voice careful. "Just a friend? Or something more?"

Nafisa laughed softly, shaking her head. "No, just a friend. Hasib is my boyfriend." She reached out and grabbed Hasib's hand, squeezing it gently.

Hasib smiled back, but his mind was racing. He couldn't help but notice the flicker of jealousy that crossed the doctor's face when Nafisa mentioned her relationship with him.

"Newton will regain consciousness in about an hour," the doctor said, her voice returning to its clinical tone. "If he experiences any pain or discomfort, call me immediately. My chamber is just down the hall."

Hasib nodded. "Thank you, Doctor…?"

"Dr. Nishat," she said before turning and walking away.

Hasib watched her retreating figure, his thoughts clouded with questions. Why did she cry? Who is she to Newton?

Later, Hasib and Nafisa sat on the chairs in the corridor outside Newton's cabin. The hospital was quiet now, the chaos of the evening giving way to an eerie calm.

Hasib leaned back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Did you notice anything… strange about Dr. Nishat?" he asked.

Nafisa tilted her head. "Strange? What do you mean?"

Hasib hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing. Forget it."

Nafisa smiled softly, reaching out to grab his arm. She rested her head on his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a long night, Hasib. Let's just be grateful Newton is okay."

Hasib sighed, his tension easing slightly as he felt the warmth of Nafisa's touch. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. "Yeah. You're right."

They sat there in silence, the hum of the hospital machines the only sound around them, both lost in their thoughts as the night stretched on.

To be Continued...