The pizza shop was conveniently located downstairs in their community, very near the director's residence.

They reached it in just two minutes.

It wasn't a fancy restaurant, but it was neat and tidy.

The director ordered two pizzas.

"So, what do you need my help with?" the director asked the question as they waited for their meal.

Camila retrieved the report from her bag and handed it over. "I accidentally came across it in the office. I didn't mean to read it, so I thought I should return it to you.

The director took the report, recognizing it as his own medical record. He said with a smile, "I was worried my family might find it.

I remember placing it with some unimportant papers. When I was packing up, I couldn't find it and thought I had misplaced it. Turns out, I hadn't."

Camila looked at him, questioning, "Is this why you're rushing into retirement?"

The director replied, somewhat cheerfully, “In a way, yes. I'm concerned that if I pass away suddenly and haven't organized everything at the research institute, it'll become chaotic, and I'd regret that."

The director mentioned he might not have much time left.

Hearing this, Camila felt her heart miss a beat.

Being a doctor, it pained her that she couldn't do anything for a patient like him.

The director gently touched her hand, reassuringly saying, “Look at me, I'm alright. I take good care of myself, so don't get too upset.

As the director of the heart research institute, it's ironic I have these health issues. Can you imagine how hard it is for ordinary people without access to help for such conditions? Don't worry about me. Focus on your research. That would be the best thing for me.

Even if my time comes, I'll go in peace."

Since she was young, Camila had dreamt of being a great doctor, saving lives.

She aspired to make significant contributions to the medical field in her country.

Then, their pizzas were served.

The research institute director said, "Let's forget about such troublesome matters. Enjoying nice food is more important."