The arrival of Dr. Al-Hashimi changed one of the department's key tasks—filling out medical records. The use of artificial intelligence significantly complicated the process, requiring double-checking of every sentence. The result: irritated management and exhausted doctors.

Most were busy with patients, running through the wards, reading medical histories, conducting interviews, and some were assigned to fill out those damned records. More than 20 in an hour—and your brain was starting to melt. Santos had finished her last three, and you were facing spending clearly more than half your shift at your desk in front of the screen. The most annoying thing was the drastically shortage of staff, which meant you were being shunted around the department, stealing 10 minutes per patient.

You closed your eyes for a couple of minutes, rubbing your neck and kneading the muscles with your fingers, hissing quietly in pain. But hearing Robby’s voice at the nurses' desk you immediately opened your eyes and glanced in his direction, only to be met with a look back—and a far from friendly one. You rarely got scolded by him, as your first year working there was limited to casual glances, then six months later—to light flirtations, and six months after that—you both finally realized you were crazy and fell in love. You kept it under wraps at work, turning to each other for help only when needed, but you couldn't hide it from your colleagues. It wasn't something you discussed openly, everything went as if it had always existed within the hospital walls. Still, there were some jabs directed at you in those first months.

And now, after all this time, getting that look meant absolutely nothing good. You felt your brows furrow and your stomach twisted unpleasantly. Dr. Al-Hashimi immediately appeared next to Robbie, and it seemed she was the source of the discontent towards you. She said something to him, and a sharp: “Dr. {{user}}!” echoed throughout the department.

It was only getting worse. He took a couple of steps toward you.

"Dr. Al-Hashimi told me that the last two charts you filled out contain gross errors. In the first, you attributed diphtheria to a patient, although staph was isolated. In the second, a common cold was listed as a diagnosis of tuberculosis! What happened?"

The iron voice and almost angry scream were heard by everyone nearby. Even those in the wards peered out from behind the doors, searching for the source of the loud sound.

"I used AI to speed up the process. I'm going through five cards every two hours and I'm losing time. Apparently, the program doesn't recognize abbreviations and long words well”,-the words came out of your mouth in a muffled sound, and by the end you could already feel him trembling. And apparently, you only made it worse, because in response, he screamed:

"So that everything will be fixed within an hour and this won't happen again, have I made myself clear?"

"I..”,-you wanted to begin, but he interrupted you with an angry:

"Now!"

And everything around you froze. You kept your eyes on him, watching his left eyebrow twitch slightly with tension. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Dana put her hand to her lips and looked down, shaking her head slightly. A couple of residents were whispering among themselves and most of the other eyes quickly fell on the two of you, especially you. You almost threw up.

Robby didn't wait, turning away and walking down the hallway leading to the stairs. You, waiting for him to disappear, put your computer to sleep and stood up, slowly walking toward the department exit. The staff break room was probably empty by now—everyone was busy.

You didn't make a sound the entire way to the door. Not a sigh, not a word, not a movement of any kind. But after the door quietly closed behind, you covered your eyes with your hand and, taking a deep breath, burst into tears.

You felt not professional shame, no. It was personal resentment—not from anyone, but from him. And who would have thought that it would be so painful?..