Selin
The next day, I walked through the familiar halls of Csepel Hospital—the same building where I had spent years chasing purpose, meaning, and saving other people's lives. I used to feel in control here. Now, I felt like a patient trying to hold herself together.
The irony didn't escape me.
My reproductive endocrinologist was waiting in one of the consultation rooms. Sibelle Neriah. We were classmates back in med school. She had always been that one person who seemed to breathe clarity even in chaos. Always calm. Always composed. The kind of person you were secretly grateful for during night shifts and anatomy labs.
I never imagined I'd be seeing her like this.
She smiled as I walked in, that same steady smile from our university days. "Selin," she said, rising to give me a gentle hug. "I never thought our reunion would happen like this."
"Neither did I," I murmured.
We sat across from each other, the air between us filled with unspoken things. I took a breath and told her everything.
That I had cancer.
That I was running out of time.
That I'd always wanted to be a mother—desperately, fiercely—and that dream was slipping through my fingers.
And that I'd asked someone I trusted more than anyone —Alekos, the son of our boss, Mr. Csepel, the man who owned the hospital and was also, technically, now my father-in-law—to help me have a child.
Sibelle didn't flinch. She listened, eyes warm, attentive. Her expression didn't carry judgment—just quiet understanding.
"It doesn't surprise me," she finally said. "About Alekos. I always suspected something was there."
I blinked. "There's nothing. He's my best friend."
She gave a small, knowing laugh. "Maybe. But I remember the way he used to look at you back in uni. Even when we were buried under exams and caffeine, his eyes always found you in a room."
I looked away.
That version of us—college students with too many dreams and not enough time—it felt so far away now. Like a different lifetime. Back then, Alekos studied business, Marianne studied law, and Sibelle and I survived med school together. We were all young and invincible.
Now we were just trying to survive.
I rubbed my hands together, then looked back at her. "We got married, Sibelle. Not for love. Not the way people imagine. I just… I wanted a child. I didn't want a stranger to give me that. I wanted someone I knew. Someone who meant something."
Her expression softened further. "And that's why you're here."
I nodded.
Her voice was steady. "Then let's get to work."
The door opened with a click, and before I could even gather myself, Alekos strolled in like he owned the place.
His eyes lit up the second they landed on Sibelle.
"Sibelle freaking Neriah?" he grinned. "Still making people nervous with that doctor's stare?"
Sibelle stood, smirking. "Still clueless as ever, I see."
They hugged quickly—comfortably, like time hadn't passed at all—and immediately launched into jokes that reminded me too much of who we used to be.
"I swear, if you tell me you've matured since uni, I'm walking out," she teased.
"I'll have you know, I now own three suits and say synergy unironically," he replied, deadpan.
I couldn't help but laugh, caught in the warmth of it all. And just like that, a memory
Back in our second year, we were in the university canteen—loud, crowded, and buzzing with midterm stress. Marianne and Sibelle were practically screaming at each other from across the table about BTS, of all things.
Marianne was diehard Team Yoongi. Sibelle swore by Namjoon with her whole chest. Neither of them were backing down.
"It's not even a debate!" Sibelle shouted. "He writes the lyrics, Marianne!"
"Yeah, and Yoongi produces the tracks!" Marianne shot back.
I was sitting between them, holding my tray like a human shield, praying they didn't drag me into this war.
Then Alekos, already seated in front of us, took one long, slow bite of his banana bread, clearly unimpressed by the heated BTS debate unraveling between Marianne and Sibelle.
With the kind of chaotic energy that only came from too much coffee and not enough sleep, he leaned forward and said, dead serious, "You're both wrong. I'm better than all of them combined."
We all stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
And then Marianne, without hesitation, hurled a spoonful of mashed potatoes at him.
It hit his shirt.
There was a brief pause—dead silence.
He looked down, picked up a piece of bread, and launched it back at her.
Someone gasped. Someone else yelled, "FOOD FIGHT!"
And then all hell broke loose.
Spoons flew. Pasta was weaponized. Someone's yogurt exploded against the wall like a paintball.
I think Sibelle was dual-wielding ketchup bottles at one point.
By the end of it, chairs were overturned, trays were abandoned midair, and I swear a first-year student was crying under the table.
The canteen was closed indefinitely after that.
I smiled to myself, tucked in the memory, until Sibelle pulled me back to reality.
"Well," she said, turning toward Alekos, tone suddenly professional. "First step—we'll need to collect your sperm."
Alekos blinked. Then placed his hands on his hips like he was about to negotiate a business deal. "Alright… and what exactly do I need to do?"
Sibelle and I exchanged a look. I already felt the laughter creeping up my throat.
Sibelle sighed dramatically. "God, you're still such a clueless puppy." She folded her arms. "You ejaculate, Alekos. That's how we get it."
He raised an eyebrow. "Yea… no, I got that part, but like—you mean, like right now? Here?"
"In the room next door," Sibelle nodded casually. "There are, you know… magazines. Instructions. Whatever helps."
Alekos opened his mouth like he was going to ask something serious, then stopped himself. "Okay—okay. You don't have to walk me through it like I'm thirteen. I know how to stroke my dick, thank you very much."
I lost it.
Sibelle burst out laughing too, slapping the folder on the table like she couldn't take him seriously anymore.
Alekos turned red. "I'm being serious! This is medical stuff and you two are giggling like it's high school."
"Well, you did just say stroke my dick in a fertility clinic," I said between laughs.
He muttered something about professionalism and turned toward Sibelle. "Isn't there another option? Like… science-y?"
Sibelle straightened, flipping open the chart and shifting into her full-on medical lecture mode.
"Well," she began smoothly, "if manual collection isn't an option, we can perform a sperm retrieval procedure such as TESA or PESA, where a fine needle is inserted directly into the testicular tissue or epididymis to extract viable sperm cells—"
Alekos blinked. "I'm sorry… you're gonna have to run that back."
Sibelle raised an eyebrow. "Which part?"
"The part where it started sounding like a horror movie."
She sighed and looked at me, then back at him, clearly fed up with being professional.
So she dropped the act.
"We'll need to put a needle," she said flatly, "in your dick."
Alekos took a full step back, both hands up like she'd just threatened him with it.
"Okay! Okay! Got it!" he barked, face pale. "I'll go—stroke my dick—in the next room. Happily. Thanks for the trauma."
The door creaked open behind him.
Marianne.
She was doubled over, hand covering her mouth, absolutely losing it.
"You've got to be kidding me," Alekos groaned, spinning around. "Come on! Seriously? Why are you even here?"
She wiped a tear, cackling. "Because this is the best thing that's happened to me all week."
He looked at me, then at Sibelle, then back at Marianne. "This is university all over again. I'm outnumbered and being bullied. You're all sick."
And with that, he walked off down the hall muttering, "I swear if there are cameras in that room I'm suing." What a clueless person. This is literally his father's hospital.
Sibelle was still laughing as she scribbled something down.
And for just a moment, despite the gravity of everything going on, it felt like the past hadn't disappeared. Like we were still those three idiots who had no idea what the future held.
God, how I needed that moment.