I must have looked completely confused.
Hezze grabbed my wrist. "Come on, just go look and you'll see."
The walk from the nurse's station to my office was only a few steps, but today it felt strangely far, like there was a mountain between us. On the way over, I kept hearing patients outside excitedly praising me, their words confirming my treatment plan had worked and that they were genuinely satisfied.
By the time we reached my office door, a particularly joyful voice rose above the rest.
"Thank you, Dr. Bailey—my wife is pregnant. It's been more than twenty days already."
I looked up. The speaker was Sergeant Mopius.
Hearing that his wife was pregnant, I couldn't help but grin. "Congratulations. At your age, conceiving isn't easy. I'll take a look at your wife in a bit—what matters most is that the baby is healthy."
"Thank you, Dr. Bailey, thank you so much."
He gripped my hand with both of his. This tough soldier had tears in his eyes, his fingers trembling. As a soon-to-be father, he was shaking with excitement and anticipation. Ten long years—and finally, a little angel on the way.
Beside him, Mrs. Robbery's eyes were red as well. "These ten years… I don't even know how to thank you, Dr. Bailey. If we hadn't met you, I really don't know what we would have done."
Their emotion seeped into me, tightening my throat. At the same time, my heart felt light and warm. I smiled. "Mrs. Robbery, now that you're pregnant, you can't let yourself get too worked up—too happy, too sad, either is bad for the baby."
At once, she wiped away her tears, almost afraid her joy would harm the child.
"Why don't you come in first?" I said. "I'll check on the baby."
I went into my office and pulled on my white coat.
"Okay." Mrs. Robbery nodded again and again, then followed me in. I had her lie back for a quick exam, checked her blood pressure, pulse, and then reviewed the early pregnancy bloodwork and ultrasound report they'd brought. After a minute, she couldn't help blurting, "Dr. Bailey, how is the baby?"
I smiled. "The baby looks healthy. Your hormone levels are rising nicely and the implantation on the early scan is in a good position. Just keep your diet balanced and routine steady."
"I will."
She rested a hand over her still-flat stomach. It had only been a little over twenty days; the baby wasn't even formed yet. She couldn't feel anything physically, but from the look in her eyes, she already felt that tiny life—heartbeat merging with hers, bloodlines weaving together. She smiled softly, a faint, almost holy glow around her. It was that unmistakable light of motherhood—gentle, radiant.
I watched her for a moment, dazed.
If my mother were still alive, she would probably have looked at a future grandchild with the same kind of expectation—tender, patient, careful, like water.
My gaze dropped; something dimmed quietly inside me.
"Dr. Bailey," Mopius said, "my wife and I had a plaque made for you. All of our gratitude is carved into it. Please accept it."
He lifted a red cloth, and a rosewood plaque came into view. The wood itself was luxurious, dark and rich, clearly expensive. Four bold characters were carved across the front—Diệu Thủ Hồi Xuân—"Miraculous Hands Restoring Life."
The calligraphy was a little rough, but the strokes were strong and determined.
My heart lurched. I had expected some simple little sign, not something clearly made from high-end hardwood that must have cost a small fortune.
"Isn't this… a bit too expensive?" I swallowed, suddenly unsure I should accept it.
"Dr. Bailey, please," Mopius said anxiously when he saw me hesitate. "It's just a plaque. It's not that valuable. We've struggled for ten years. You were the dawn after a decade of darkness. Please, accept our thanks."
Faced with that kind of sincerity, if I kept refusing, I'd just come off as arrogant.
"…All right," I said at last, pressing my lips together. "I'll accept it. I'll hang it up and take good care of it."
The patients gathered at the doorway heard all of this, and their trust in me climbed even higher. If someone's infertility of more than ten years could be cured, then I really did sound like some miracle doctor from legend.
"I'm telling you, Dr. Bailey is amazing," one patient said. "She fixed my chronic migraines. I'm here today just for a check-up."
"And me," another chimed in. "Every winter my joints used to ache. After she treated me, the pain stopped."
"And my period cramps," a younger woman added. "This month when it came, I didn't feel a thing. It's honestly like a miracle."
They kept praising me, sharing their experiences in group chats and with friends. One person told ten, ten told a hundred, and the number of patients grew. That's how the bustling, overcrowded scene outside my office had formed.
After a while, Sergeant Mopius and his wife sat a bit, then rose to leave, still holding hands. Before going, Mrs. Robbery turned back with a bright smile.
"Dr. Bailey, your skills are incredible. I'm definitely going to recommend you to all my friends and tell them to come see you if they're sick."
Her words startled me. "Thank you, Mrs. Robbery."
"It's the least we can do," she said warmly, then left with Mopius.
Once they were gone, I plunged back into work. I saw several patients in the morning, then more lined up in the afternoon. For now, I propped the plaque carefully against the wall in my office, planning to hang it properly later.
Hezze had watched the whole thing. She kept circling the plaque, turning it this way and that, then suddenly broke into a grin.
"Rosy, I never thought I'd see someone gift you a plaque," she said. "I've only ever seen this in TV dramas. This has to be the highest compliment a doctor can get, right?"
"Mm." I stared at the four carved characters. "'Miraculous Hands Restoring Life'—that's pretty much the highest goal any doctor could hope for."
"You're insane, you know that?" she said, giving me a big thumbs-up. "In the best way."
I curled my lips into a wide smile. "Just average. Ordinary. We're all the same."
"Yeah, yeah, keep bragging," she snorted, patting my shoulder.
I giggled and didn't say anything more.
Later, I heard what was happening over at the Richart estate.
Mrs. Jamaica Richart was sitting on the living room sofa, a rosary looped around her fingers. Her hair was completely white, her skin wrinkled like old bark, but her eyes were bright, and her smile gentle. At a glance, she looked like the very picture of a kind, devout grandmother.
"Mother, Mrs. Robbery is pregnant," Olivia said, scrolling through her phone. She'd just seen the announcement on social media and blurted it out.
For a second, Mrs. Richart didn't react. "Which Mrs. Robbery?"
"The one married to Sergeant Mopius, from the military district." Olivia kept flicking through her feed, her face full of disbelief. "I remember she's already over thirty. She married him in her early twenties, and they've had no children for ten years. How can she suddenly be pregnant now?"
"I heard they've been going from doctor to doctor all these years," Mrs. Richart said, setting her rosary down, clearly surprised as well. "But nothing ever worked. There were so many rumors—some said Mopius had problems, some said Mrs. Robbery was infertile. And yet they stayed together, stood firm in front of all that gossip… It seems their hardest years have finally passed."
Olivia sighed. "It really is something."
She scrolled again, then exclaimed, "Turns out they met some kind of miracle doctor. That's how they finally conceived."
"A miracle doctor?" Mrs. Richart repeated, curiosity sparking in her eyes.