Among the Ruins

The journey to the disaster area took far longer than expected.

The volunteer bus arrived at the airport just before noon. There was no light chatter. No jokes. The faces stepping down from the bus were filled only with focus and mental readiness. From the city’s main airport, they were immediately separated according to teams and destinations.

Owen, along with twenty other medical personnel—eight doctors and twelve nurses—boarded a small military aircraft prepared by the local government. It was not a commercial flight. There were no flight attendants offering warm smiles. Only the low roar of the engine, thinly padded metal seats, and the synchronized click of seat belts being fastened.

The flight to the eastern mountain province took nearly two hours.

From the air, the landscape changed drastically.

Mountains that were once lush and green now looked like open wounds. Landslides had torn through forests, carving scars into the slopes. Rivers that should have flowed calmly now stretched like thick brown veins, overflowing without control. Several villages appeared as tiny dots, almost swallowed by nature itself.

No one spoke.

Owen stared out of the small aircraft window. His jaw tightened, his hand clenched quietly on his thigh. This was the battlefield they were about to enter. There was no room for hesitation. No place to retreat.

The plane landed at the provincial airport in the late afternoon.

But the journey was far from over.

From there, they were transferred to military trucks and tactical vehicles operated by the armed forces. The roads leading to the disaster zone were no longer passable by ordinary vehicles. Asphalt was cracked, bridges had collapsed, and several routes were completely severed.

The convoy moved slowly along emergency dirt roads carved out by heavy machinery.

It took nearly four hours of ground travel to reach the closest point still accessible by vehicles.

The rest… had to be done on foot.

The sky had begun to darken by the time they arrived.

The mountain air was cold, damp, and heavy. The scent of wet soil mixed with mud—and something more bitter. The smell of rubble, open wounds, and despair.

Emergency lights flickered in the distance.

Green and orange tents stood unevenly across an open field that might once have been a schoolyard or a village hall. Now, it served as the central emergency evacuation site.

As Owen and the medical team stepped down from the vehicles, the first sight that greeted them made several people stop in their tracks.

Victims.

So many of them.

A small child with a crudely bandaged leg, his face pale and eyes hollow. A mother clutching a crying baby, her body trembling from cold and shock. An elderly man sitting against a tent pole, gasping for breath, his chest rising and falling irregularly.

Some victims lay on makeshift stretchers—wooden planks, torn doors, even tables bound together with rope.

Blood. Mud. Tears.

“The medical team has arrived!” someone shouted.

A man in a disaster response uniform approached them quickly. His face was exhausted, eyes bloodshot, but his gaze remained sharp.

“Thank you for coming,” he said without preamble. “I’m Andi, the field coordinator.”

There was no time for formalities.

The briefing was conducted swiftly under portable floodlights.

“The main earthquake happened four days ago, followed by massive landslides from three sides of the mountain,” Andi explained. “Several villages are still isolated. Evacuation is manual. Many severely injured victims haven’t received proper treatment.”

He pointed to a simple map spread across the hood of a vehicle.

“We’re short on medical personnel. Tonight’s priorities are open wounds, fractures, infections, hypothermia, and head trauma. The nearest referral hospital is at least eight hours away by air—if the weather allows.”

Owen stepped forward immediately.

“We’re ready.”

There was no hesitation in his voice.

The team was divided. Some doctors were assigned to the emergency operating tent. Others to the triage area. Nurses spread out, carrying medical kits, IV fluids, and limited supplies.

The moment Owen entered the medical tent, he went straight to work.

A teenage boy with a deep gash in his thigh, blood still seeping through the cloth. A woman with a broken arm, her face pale as she fought the pain. A small child with a high fever and rapid breathing—clear signs of infection.

“Blood pressure?” Owen asked.

“Low, Doctor!”

“Start an IV. Now.”

His hands moved automatically.

There was no trace of the cold, distant Owen from the hospital.

Only a doctor who was fully present.

Hours passed without notice.

Night fell completely. A light drizzle began, making conditions even harder. The generator-powered lamps glowed dimly, but the work never stopped.

Owen only realized how sore his body was when he paused briefly to straighten his back. Sweat mixed with mud clung to his jacket. His hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from exhaustion.

But when he saw a child who had been unconscious earlier slowly begin to open his eyes…

All the fatigue vanished.

“Doctor…” one of the nurses whispered. “New victims incoming. Aftershock landslide.”

Owen nodded. “Bring them in.”

There was no time to think about anything else.

Not about himself.

Not about old wounds.

Not about the feelings he had left behind in the city.

Among the ruins, between screams and whispered prayers blending into one, Owen finally found something that made his chest feel a little lighter.

He was needed.

And that night, in the isolated eastern mountains, a doctor named Owen stood on the front line—not as a broken-hearted man, but as someone who chose to keep living… by saving the lives of others.

---

One Day Before Ailine’s Birthday

The date on Ailine’s phone screen changed quietly, almost without a sound.

There were no fireworks. No cheers. Only the glow of the screen reflected in her tired eyes.

One notification came in.

Then two.

Then ten.

Birthday messages arrived like small waves—crowded and continuous, yet never truly reaching the shore. Familiar names appeared one by one, complete with emojis, long prayers, and sweet wishes that felt… uniform.

Ailine read them all. She always did.

A message from Julian Feng appeared at the top.

Happy birthday in advance. As always. Let me be the first.

Ailine smiled faintly. Julian had always been like that—wanting to be first in everything. Meetings, interviews, even birthday wishes. She replied briefly with a smile emoji and a thank-you.

My birthday is actually tomorrow, she thought.

Today hadn’t even passed yet.

A classic excuse. Always wanting to be the first.

But it was fine. At least they remembered.

She placed the phone on the table.

The screen remained lit.

Ailine stared at it longer than she should have.

There was no name she was waiting for.

Or rather—no message from someone she had never mentioned to anyone.

“Tch… what am I even expecting?” she muttered softly.

She rose from the sofa and walked into the kitchen. The lights turned on. The refrigerator opened.

Its contents were neat. Too neat.

Fresh vegetables, sliced fruit, low-fat yogurt. Everything looked like a perfectly organized life—healthy, disciplined, obedient to routine.

Ailine closed the fridge without taking anything.

She turned to the freezer.

Nuggets. Sausages. French fries. Chocolate ice cream.

Foods she had once avoided now looked… tempting. She had started buying them recently. She wasn’t sure when it began.

She grabbed several packs at once, piling them onto the kitchen counter like someone who had just won a small, reckless victory.

The microwave beeped.

Ailine sat on the bar stool and bit into the first nugget eagerly.

Emma appeared in the doorway, her hair still half wet.

“Miss Ailine… at this hour?”

“I’m hungry,” Ailine replied quickly. “I’m underweight.”

Emma frowned. “That’s all frozen food.”

“Calories are still calories.”

Layla appeared as well, arms crossed. “Your body is sensitive. Don’t be reckless.”

“I’m fine,” Ailine said with a shrug.

She ate quickly. Too quickly.

As if stopping would allow something to catch up with her—an emotion she didn’t understand, irritation without a clear cause.

Emma and Layla exchanged glances. They knew Ailine well enough to recognize this wasn’t about hunger.

“At least drink some water,” Layla said.

“Later,” Ailine replied curtly.

She walked into the private exercise room at the corner of the apartment. The lights turned on. The treadmill started. The music played louder than usual.

Her first step was fast.

The second, faster.

Sweat began to form at her temples. Her breathing quickened, but she didn’t slow down. Instead, she increased the speed—as if exhaustion could erase something lodged deep in her chest.

“Ailine!” Layla called from outside the room. “That’s enough!”

“I’m not tired yet!” she shouted back.

Her body was already protesting. Her knees ached. Her vision blurred slightly. But she kept running—punishing herself in a way she didn’t even realize.

The clock on the wall ticked softly.

03:39.

Her head felt light. Too light.

Her steps faltered. She grabbed the treadmill handle just before everything went dark.

“TURN IT OFF!” Layla shouted as she rushed inside.

Ailine sank to the floor, her back against the wall. Her breathing was ragged. Cold sweat soaked her neck.

Emma crouched in front of her, worry etched across her face.

“Are you about to faint?” her voice trembled.

“I’m fine,” Ailine replied, though her own voice sounded distant.

Layla handed her a glass of water. “Drink. Slowly.”

Ailine took one sip. Then another. Her breathing gradually steadied.

“This isn’t healthy,” Layla said firmly. “Eating recklessly, then exercising like you’re being chased by demons. You just got home past midnight, Ailine. Do you want to destroy yourself?”

Ailine let out a dry chuckle.

“You’re both so noisy. I need to maintain my weight. I ate too many calories, so I’m just burning them off.”

“Because we care,” Emma said softly. “Please don’t do this. You don’t look like you’re taking care of your body—you look like you’re punishing yourself.”

Punishing herself.

The words struck deep.

Ailine fell silent.

She turned her face toward the large window. The city outside glittered—alive, busy, unchanged. Yet inside her, something had shifted. Slowly, but undeniably.

“This is just a phase,” she said finally, more to herself than anyone else. “It’ll pass.”

Emma and Layla exchanged another look. They knew—Ailine often said that.

“We don’t know what happened to make you change like this,” Emma said quietly. “But… I feel like this has something to do with Doctor Owen. Am I right?”

Ailine froze.

A direct hit.

“I don’t know what happened between you two,” Layla said gently. “But please don’t hurt yourself like this, Ailine. Value yourself. You’ve come so far.”

Ailine smiled faintly.

Not a happy smile. Just a dry one.

She knew—it wouldn’t be easy.

Anything involving Owen had never been easy for her.

Even as she said she wanted to forget, even now, her thoughts were still filled with a single name.