The office door clicked shut behind Dr. Manjov, and silence unfurled between them like a long-held breath finally released.
Alexandra stood still, her bag slipping off her shoulder, the weight of the moment anchoring her feet to the floor. Damien hadn't changed much, not in essence. The same composed demeanor, the same quiet intensity in his eyes. But there were new lines on his face now, faint creases that came from sleepless nights and a relentless pursuit of perfection. His shoulders were broader, his presence heavier. The boy she remembered was long gone. In his place stood a man she wasn't ready to face.
Damien slipped off his glasses and set them aside.
"You are mistaken," he said softly, voice low and steady. "By hard to get rid of, I meant me."
He stepped around the desk, gaze never leaving hers. "Welcome back to my life, Alexandra."
Her breath caught.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, swallowing the dozen words that rose to her tongue like thorns. The silence between them wasn't empty, it was full of the past. Of... a high school corridor echoing with laughter that wasn't hers, of humiliation and heartbreak and years spent wondering if the hurt had been one-sided.
Alexandra straightened her posture, clutching the strap of her bag. "I didn't know you were here."
"I figured."
She lifted her chin. "And if I had known?"
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Would you have still come?"
"No," she said honestly.
Damien gave a small, wry smile. "Fair."
She looked around his office to distract herself. It was nothing like what she'd expected. Books lined one wall, thick medical journals and dog-eared paperbacks, a few photo frames turned slightly askew. There was a mug shaped like a heart on the side table with the faded words: 'Eat. Sleep. Save Lives. Repeat.'
"Still into sarcasm and caffeine, I see," she muttered.
Damien arched a brow. "Still into psychoanalyzing décor?"
"Still deflecting with humor?"
His grin widened. "Still sees through me."
A sharp, strange pang shot through her chest. Familiarity. How it still existed between them after everything. How it curled around his words like smoke.
She looked away.
"You're here to stay?" he asked, voice quieter now. Almost cautious.
Alexandra hesitated. "I transferred to this hospital. I'm staying for the foreseeable future. Cardiology."
Something flickered in Damien's gaze. "You always did talk about hearts."
"It was never just talk."
His voice dipped. "No. It never was."
The tension in the air shifted, heavier now, soaked with unspoken things.
"I assume you're the brilliant doctor Dr. Manjov couldn't stop gushing about," she said dryly.
Damien smirked. "Flattered."
Alexandra rolled her eyes and turned toward the window, her fingers brushing the peeling frame. "I didn't come back for you, Damien."
"I didn't assume you did."
"Good."
Another pause.
He stepped beside her, not too close, but near enough that she could feel the heat of his presence. "But you came back anyway."
She met his eyes again, and it took everything not to flinch at the softness she found there. "Don't read into it."
"Too late."
She exhaled sharply and pulled her gaze away. "Look, I'm here to work. I have no intention of revisiting... whatever happened in the past."
Damien was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Understood."
But his tone said otherwise.
Before she could reply, a knock came at the door. A young nurse poked her head in. "Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Reid. There's a case waiting in ER. A hypertensive crisis."
"I'll be there in two minutes," Damien said smoothly.
The nurse disappeared, and he turned back to Alexandra. "Come with me."
"I haven't even signed my paperwork."
Damien shrugged. "You can file papers later. Come see the real reason you're here."
Despite herself, her lips twitched. "You always did think paperwork was optional."
"Still do."
He handed her a spare white coat from the rack, one clearly meant for visiting residents. She hesitated only a second before slipping it on.
And just like that, they fell into step again.
The ER was chaotic.
It wasn't the sterile, high-tech environment Alexandra had gotten used to in Singapore. Here, the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead. The AC was inconsistent. Equipment looked like it had seen better decades, let alone better days.
But the people were fast. Focused.
Damien moved like a conductor in a barely functioning orchestra. Confident, precise, issuing orders and making judgment calls on the fly. The patient, a woman in her late fifties with blood pressure spiking into the danger zone, was sweating profusely and clutching her chest.
Alexandra stepped in without needing to be told, taking vitals, assisting with meds. Their movements, though unrehearsed, were strangely synchronized.
She handed Damien a chart. "She's got a history of untreated hypertension and was noncompliant with medication."
"Can't afford it," the nurse murmured from behind them. "She picks between food and pills."
Damien's jaw tightened. "Get her stabilized. Then see if we have samples in storage. If not, I'll cover it."
Alexandra glanced at him, surprised. "You do that often?"
Damien didn't look up from his notes. "When I can."
The nurse nodded quietly and moved away.
Alexandra felt something stir, something unfamiliar and dangerous. Respect.
The shift blurred.
They worked through patients, triaging, diagnosing, moving between curtained stalls and cluttered halls. By the time the ER quieted, Alexandra's sleeves were rolled, her hair a mess, and her mind buzzing.
She found Damien at the sink, washing his hands. She approached slowly.
"You're not what I expected."
He dried his hands with a paper towel. "And what did you expect?"
She hesitated. "A spoiled rich boy trying to play the hero in a place like this."
He laughed, low and amused. "I was. Once. Until I realized the world doesn't need more heroes. It just needs doctors who give a damn."
Something warm bloomed in her chest.
"Why this place?" she asked. "You could be anywhere."
"I could ask you the same thing," Damien turned to face her, his expression serious now. "Because someone needs to be here. And because I'm tired of fixing problems created by people like us."
She blinked.
And just like that, some part of her wariness cracked.
He looked at her again, and the corners of his mouth lifted. "You did good today."
"I didn't do much."
"You were there. That's more than most."
She shook her head, letting out a breath. "It's been one day, Damien."
"Still counts."
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then Alexandra reached for her bag. "I should head back."
He nodded. "I'll walk you out."
As they stepped outside, the sun was dipping low, casting an orange glow over the broken sidewalk and faded hospital walls. The air smelled of dust and diesel and something strangely hopeful.
At the gate, Alexandra paused. Damien stood beside her, hands in his pockets.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said.
She hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Yeah. Tomorrow."
As she walked toward the waiting cab, Damien watched her go.
And for the first time in years, a piece of his heart that had been frozen by regret began to thaw.