Storyline
Floria’s running on fumes, but she never lets it show. The surgical ward is chaos—phones ringing, alarms blaring, patients calling out—and of course, they’re short-staffed, because when are they not? She’s juggling IV drips, pain meds, and a thousand little things that all seem to matter most right now. One minute she’s soothing a scared old man, the next she’s cracking a joke with a frazzled intern just to keep the wheels turning. The clock’s a bully, pushing her harder by the hour, and yet she’s still finding space for kindness between all the madness. The late shift hits like a freight train—more emergencies, more pressure, more everything. It’s a wild sprint to keep everyone stable, and honestly, it’s a miracle anything gets done at all. As the night barrels toward its peak, the tension’s thick enough to cut, and Floria’s just holding the line, heart pounding, hoping she’s done enough. That final hour? Pure adrenaline, and somehow, she’s still standing, wrapped in exhaustion and a weird sort of pride.