POV: Emilia Conti
Burnout doesn't feel like collapse.
It feels like competence without fuel.
I still woke up on time. Still made decisions cleanly in the OR. Still spoke in full sentences that sounded measured and calm. From the outside, nothing had changed.
Inside, everything had narrowed.
I noticed it when a patient thanked me and I felt… nothing. No warmth. No relief. Just acknowledgment, like a box checked on a list I was too tired to finish reading.
That scared me more than exhaustion ever had.
I started forgetting small things. Where I'd put my keys. Whether I'd answered an email or only thought about it. Not mistakes—hesitations.
Pauses where there hadn't been pauses before.
Alessio noticed before I said anything.
"You're running on reserve," he said one night as I stared at my laptop without typing.
"Yes," I replied.
"That's not a plan," he said.
"No," I agreed. "It's a habit."
I didn't tell him about the dreams.
