Her shift had ended an hour ago, but Jasmine couldn’t bring herself to leave the hospital—not when she knew her 92-year-old patient was spending Thanksgiving completely alone. While other rooms were filled with laughter, balloons, and family, Walter’s room sat dark and silent, the way it had for years. He’d outlived everyone he loved. And just as he turned his face to the wall to sleep the holiday away, Jasmine walked back in with a warm Thanksgiving meal… and a decision that would change both their nights.

Her shift had ended an hour ago, but Jasmine couldn’t bring herself to leave the hospital—not when she knew her 92-year-old patient was spending Thanksgiving completely alone. While other rooms were filled with laughter, balloons, and family, Walter’s room sat dark and silent, the way it had for years. He’d outlived everyone he loved. And just as he turned his face to the wall to sleep the holiday away, Jasmine walked back in with a warm Thanksgiving meal… and a decision that would change both their nights.

Jasmine Lee’s shift had officially ended at 7:03 p.m., but she remained in her pale-blue scrubs, leaning against the quiet nurses’ station long after the other staff hurried out to join their families for Thanksgiving dinner.

The hospital corridor smelled faintly of roasted turkey from the cafeteria’s leftover trays, but Room 412, at the very end of the hall, smelled only of antiseptic and loneliness.

Inside that dim room lay Walter Reeves, ninety-two years old, bones thin as paper, heart stubborn as iron. He had outlived his wife, his siblings, his friends, even his only daughter. While other rooms buzzed with visitors bringing pies and laughter, Walter’s room was silent. Again.

Jasmine had promised herself she would go home early tonight. She’d planned to have dinner with her brother, to finally relax after six straight days of work. She’d even packed leftover cranberry sauce in her tote bag.

But when she peeked into Walter’s room before clocking out, the sight stopped her cold.

Walter, small beneath the blankets, was turning his face toward the wall, trying to sleep the holiday away. No TV. No food tray. No vase of supermarket flowers. Just the sound of the heart monitor beeping steadily—like it was the only thing keeping him company.

She stepped inside quietly.

“Mr. Reeves?” she called softly.

He didn’t turn. “Go on home, Jasmine,” he rasped. “Holiday’s for the living.”

Her chest tightened. “Did you eat yet?”

“Don’t need dinner,” he muttered. “Just sleep.”

But Jasmine didn’t move—not yet. She remembered the conversation they’d had the night before, when Walter admitted he hadn’t celebrated a holiday with another soul in over a decade.

Outside the window, the city lights flickered like distant stars. She exhaled slowly, made a decision, and walked out before her emotions got the best of her.

Ten minutes later, as Walter drifted toward sleep, he heard the door creak open again.

There she was—Jasmine—carrying a warm tray from the cafeteria, a small battery-powered candle, and two paper cups of apple cider.

“I thought,” she said gently, “maybe tonight doesn’t have to feel so empty.”

Walter blinked, stunned.

And Jasmine knew she had just changed both of their nights.

Walter slowly pushed himself upright, confusion flickering across his tired blue eyes.

“You… came back?” he asked, as if the idea itself was unbelievable.

Jasmine set the tray on his bedside table. “I did.”

“But why?” His voice cracked. “You’re young. You should be home. Not wasting your evening with an old man who’s—”

“Worth the time,” she finished firmly.

Walter fell quiet. Almost shy.

Jasmine unpacked the meal: turkey slices, mashed potatoes, the last roll from the cafeteria basket, and a small pumpkin pie she’d brought from home. She placed the candle in the center, the tiny flame flickering warmly.

Then she pulled up a chair. “May I join you?”

Walter nodded, throat tightening.

As they ate, the silence softened—not heavy anymore, but comfortable. Walter stared at the food like it was a miracle. “Haven’t had a Thanksgiving meal in years,” he murmured.

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “People get busy. Then old. Then gone.”

Jasmine swallowed hard. “Tell me about them?”