Chapter 5

The logistics department mainly handled purchasing and distributing basic office supplies. The staff was small.

Besides me, there were just a few interns and old employees waiting for retirement.

The person next to me was named Luna, a senior doing her internship.

She was naturally friendly, helping me unload my boxes with nimble hands while smacking her lips.

"Chloe, is it true you transferred to logistics just to have your baby?"

I kept my head down, organizing things, and didn't respond.

Who knew if she was like the nurses in my old department—just waiting to laugh at my misfortune and kick me while I was down.

The silence grew, but Luna kept talking to herself.

"Man, I think that rule is pretty unfair, don't you?"

"You and Dr. Harris are in different departments with different jobs. Both being pregnant wouldn't affect anything. I don't know what the leaders were thinking."

"But logistics has no future. Chloe, what are you going to do after you give birth?"

"Luna! Don't talk so much!" someone nearby warned her.

"Remember last time you complained to management about logistics' low pay and got chewed out for a whole morning?"

"If it's not our business, don't stick your nose in it. Do you want to keep this job or not?"

Luna's hands didn't stop, helping me arrange my desk as she muttered under her breath.

"I just think it's unfair. It doesn't affect the department's work. What's wrong with being pregnant..."

I finally looked up at her.

She had a very likable baby face.

"It's fine. Logistics is pretty good," I said.

For the next three days, I calmly went to and from work, doing my assigned tasks.

No more endless overtime. No more dealing with patients. The days seemed tolerable.

Occasionally, when people from my old department came to requisition office supplies, they no longer spoke to me with the same courtesy.

Instead, they were dismissive.

The kind of disdain a proper nurse has for someone who coasts along in logistics waiting to collect a paycheck.

"Chloe, it's such a shame you've fallen this far."

I handed her the office supplies with no expression. "I think it's pretty good."

The young nurse curled her lip. "I think you're just shackled by that baby. Do you really have to have it? Pregnancy hormones are scary."

But she didn't understand—this wasn't about pregnancy hormones. It wasn't just about this baby.

I was seeking fairness. Justice. Real equality.

Not a situation where someone could pull strings and cut off all my paths forward.

The turning point came on the fourth day.

I'd just gotten off work when my phone started vibrating. One SnapChat message.

Then a second. A third. A fourth.

It vibrated eighteen times total.

Eighteen times—the exact number of nurses in our department.

Each message represented a problem they couldn't handle, a difficult situation.

Before I could even open the chat, the head nurse called.

On the other end, the department was in chaos.

"Chloe, reply to everyone's messages right now! Hurry!"

I gripped my phone, my voice soft but firm.

"Why should I?"