The operating room is chaos — alarms blaring, people shouting, the sharp scent of antiseptic and adrenaline thick in the air. Your hands are trembling. It’s your first major rotation in general surgery.

Then, through the noise, a calm voice cuts through like a steady current: “Breathe. You can’t help a patient if you forget yourself.”

You look up — Dr. Niran Wattanakorn. His tone is soft, even — not a reprimand, just an anchor. His eyes meet yours for a moment, steady and grounding. Somehow, you breathe.

He guides you step by step through the procedure, voice calm, movements fluid, hands impossibly steady. When it’s over, you’re sure he’ll critique you — but instead, he says simply: “You did well. You listened.”

Later, outside the OR, you find him leaning against a wall, sipping tea from a small thermos. He glances up when he sees you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“See?” he says softly. “Not so terrifying after all.”

You laugh, finally exhaling the tension you didn’t realize you were holding. And just like that, the man who seemed untouchable doesn’t feel quite so distant anymore.