**Diary Entry 10th May**
For as long as I can remember, I dreamed of becoming a doctor. Not just some childish fancyit felt like my purpose. But life had other plans. First, my father passed suddenly, leaving us reeling. Then Mums health began to fail, worn down by endless shifts at two jobs. By the time medical school exams came around, I had nothing left to give. I failed.
Now, for the second year running, I work as an orderly at St. Thomas Hospitalscrubbing floors, pushing trolleys, fetching supplies. Still, somewhere inside, I cling to the hope that one day, Ill wear that white coat.
Today started like any othermopping, cleaning, rushing about. Then, after lunch, Dr. Bennett summoned me to his office.
James, Ive a delicate matter, he began, studying me. Weve a patientMargaret Townsend. Shes gravely ill. Shes a grandson, also named James, but she hasnt seen him in years. Before she passes, she longs to see him one last time. We thought perhaps you could play the part?
I stiffened. Pretend? Deceive a dying woman?
Sir, Iisnt that wrong? I said quietly.
His voice softened. Sometimes, a kindness wears the mask of a lie. For her, itd be peace. You wouldnt be takingonly giving comfort.
I hesitated. My conscience whispered no, but the thought of that frail woman waiting twisted my heart. In the end, I agreed. The nurses briefed mewhat young James liked, where he studied, little phrases hed say. The stage was set.
That evening, exhausted, I stopped at the shop for bread and milkMum still needed me. On the walk home, I bumped into Emily from the next buildingbright, warm, with a smile that cut through Londons grey.
James! Whereve you been hiding? she laughed.
We chattednothing important, just a new film at the cinema. On impulse, I asked if shed like to go. To my surprise, her eyes lit up.
Saturday? Lovely.
Walking home, I couldnt help but smile. Maybe this was the start of something good.
The next day, after my shift, I changed and stepped into Margarets room, heart pounding. What if she saw through me? But the frail womansmall, thin, yet sharp-eyedstudied me and smiled.
Jamie you came, dear
Relief. She believed. Sitting beside her, I expected to feel like a fraud, but instead, I listenedreally listened. She spoke of her life, the past, even deathwith a calm that humbled me.
Days passed. I visited oftenfluffed her pillows, held her hand. One afternoon, she asked if I had a girlfriend. I thought of Emily and blushed. She smiled knowingly.
Tell me how it goes. I still enjoy young love.
But Saturday didnt go as hoped. After the film, strolling through Hyde Park, Emily turned serious.
James, youre decent. Truly. But were different. I want to travel, build a career. And youyoure an orderly. Important, yes, but not the life I want.
I understood. My wages, my strugglesall stood between us.
I walked her home in silence. Back at the flat, Mum asked how it went. I shrugged.
Nothing to tell.
She sighed. Shed never approved of the grandson charade.
James, you cant shoulder others burdens forever. Some arent yours to carry.
I sat hollow. Emilys words laid bare how far Id strayed from my dreamsMums quiet reproach only deepened my guilt toward Margaret.
The next day, I returned to her bedside. She saw right through me.
Whats the matter, dear? Did that girl hurt you?
So I told her everythingmy dreams, my failures, how far Id fallen. She listened, then said softly:
Love, Jamie, comes in many forms. Dont chase the dazzle. Seek the warmth.
Then she pulled an old photo album from her nightstand.
Take this. Pictures of my son, Williamyour father. Keep them. I dont need them now.
Her voice trembled. I knewthis was goodbye.
At home, I flipped through the album. A young man smiled from faded photosWilliam, the father Id only heard of. Then my breath caught. In one shot, among university friends, stood a young womanradiant. My mother.
I froze. This wasnt coincidence. My parents had known each other. Why had she never said?
Questions burning, I rushed back toward the hospital. Near the doctors lounge, I overheard Dr. Bennetts voice:
increase the dose slowlyblame it on her decline. That inheritance is ripe, and her grandson is eager for her to settle.
Another voice crackled over speakerphone: Hurry up, Bennett. That old bats lived too long.
My blood ran cold. A conspiracyto kill her for money. My own grandmother.
I stormed home, shoved the photo at Mum. Who is this? Who was William really?
She paled, then the truth spilled out.
William had been her first love. Theyd planned to marry, but Margaret opposed ither son deserved better than a girl from Peckham.
When Mum fell pregnant, William wanted to leave. But he died in an accident before I turned one. Alone, penniless, shed placed me in care briefly while she scraped by.
She wrote to Margaret, begging her to acknowledge me, but the proud woman never replied.
The woman in that hospital wasnt just a patientshe was my grandmother. And someone wanted her dead.
Mum, we have to save her, I said.
That night, we slipped into Margarets room. She was weak but alert.
Jamie whos this? she whispered.
Margaret its meSarah, Mum said, voice shaking. I loved your William. And this is your real grandsonour James.
We told her everythingthe past, the plot, the danger. Tears filled her eyes.
My dear boy and you, Sarah
No time for tears. Grandmother, we must go. Now.
We bundled her into a cab, her hand clutching mine like shed never let go.
Months passed. With a nurses help, Bennett and his accomplice faced justice. Margaret recovered slowly, surrounded by love in our small flat. For the first time, I understood family.
Evenings became sacredGrandmothers stories of my father, old photos, Mums laughter freed from secrets. The man in those picturesonce just a namefelt real.
Then, one evening, my phone rang. Emily.
James maybe we could meet?
I smiled faintly. Sorry. Ive a different life now.
And it was true. Id found someone who saw meClara, a kind medical student who asked for nothing but to stand beside me.
Around our table, tea steaming, Grandmother telling jokes, Claras warm gaze meeting mineI finally felt it. True happiness.
No, Im not a doctor yet. That white coat still hangs in my closet, a symbol. But Ive learnedpurpose isnt a title. Its the people who love you. Ive found my pathfamily, faith, truth.
Im not that lost boy anymore. Ive grown. And every day, I face the world with hope, love, and an open heart.
