2.The past and the present
The warm scent of garlic butter drifted through the kitchen as Eva stirred creamy lemon pasta in a deep skillet.
She had finally changed out of her scrubs into her favorite oversized sweatshirt and shorts.
The ketchup-stained scrub was already tossed in the laundry, but her clumsy moment lived on in her head rent-free.
Soft music played from her phone-some lo-fi jazz she liked when cooking. Her hips swayed unconsciously with the rhythm as she flipped shrimp into the sauce with practiced ease.
"Smells like heaven," Ria said, walking in with her sketchbook in hand and two pencils tucked into her messy bun. "You're making shrimp again?"
"Celebration dinner," Eva replied, giving a chef-like flourish. "For not passing out on day one."
Ria bounced into the kitchen standing beside eva with the sketchpad tucked under one arm.
"Why shrimp?" Ria queried in anticipation.
"Only because it's your favorite and because my ego needed a win after today," Eva said, mock dramatic.
Ria grinned. "Don't tell me you embarrassed yourself on your first day?"
"I ran to the elevator like a lunatic, spilled ketchup on myself, and then got ignored by the Dr. Niel Morris. Not exactly a princess entrance."
"You mean the day where you sprinted through the hospital, stained your shirt, and witnessed Seattle's most stone-faced surgeon?"
Eva rolled her eyes. "Yes lil one!"
Ria only grinned, hopping onto the kitchen counter.
The cozy house they shared with their grandparents had creaky floors and mismatched mugs, but it was filled with love. Eva's side of the room had photos from her dance performances and Academic achievements, while Ria's had magazine cutouts and sketches of half-draped mannequins.
The dining table was set with warmth and simplicity-ceramic bowls filled with steaming seafood chowder, garlic toast stacked in a basket, and a soft glow from the overhead light. Ria took the first spoonful and froze mid-chew.
She looked up, eyes soft. "Eva... this tastes just like mom's."
Eva paused, her spoon hovering just above her bowl. Her lips curved into a small smile, but her eyes blinked twice-slow, careful.
"Really?" she said, voice quiet.
"Exactly like her Sunday special," Ria whispered, nudging her gently. "You nailed it."
Their grandmother placed a hand over Eva's, squeezing it silently. Across the table, their grandfather gave a small nod and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Five years. Still, every meal like this came with a shadow.
The accident had happened on a rainy highway-just one wrong turn, one blinding flash of headlights, and the world had shattered.
Eva had barely turned 19. And overnight, she became the responsible one. The steady one. The girl who learned to cook from old recipe books just to keep Ria from missing their mother too much.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, cleared it with a sip of water, and smiled again.
"Well, Mom did say seafood makes everything better."
Ria laughed and went back to eating. And just like that, the moment passed-wrapped in warmth, memory, and quiet strength.
After dinner, Eva curled into bed with her laptop and hot coffee. She scrolled through her intern email-her schedule had arrived.
Supervisor: Dr. Niel Morris.
Her face dropped into her pillow.
"He probably doesn't even remember me," she mumbled.
And scrolling through her notes for the cardio rotation.She read until the words began to blur, but still underlined one last line in her cardio notes.
"Effort never betrays."
With a soft sigh, she closed the notebook, tucked it under her pillow, and whispered, "One step at a time.
"
Then, she turned off the lights, letting dreams take over where determination paused.
A single warm lamp lit the modest but well-kept apartment. Marble floors, simple shelves, a cozy couch, and the faint scent of brewed coffee lingered in the air.
Niel sat on the edge of the bed, placing his guitar from the couch to its original place absentmindedly. He wasn't playing it tonight. His mind was elsewhere.
He glanced toward the suit he had just hung up neatly-tomorrow's white coat already prepped on the door hook. His apartment was quiet, his life quieter.
The window was cracked open slightly, letting in Seattle's cool breeze. He liked it that way. The silence. The simplicity.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Denver: Your Dad said the board was impressed. You good?
Denver is his childhood best friend or the only friend he has.
He didn't reply right away.
Instead, he walked into the tiny kitchen and poured himself water. His eyes flicked to the corner of the room, where old photo frames sat. His mom. Callum. Ryle. And a younger him-before everything got complicated.
His thoughts returned to the elevator this morning.
Ketchup. Stained scrub.
A bright voice saying "Thank you."
Annoying. Too... human.
But somehow, he remembered it all too clearly.
That night, Niel slept-but not peacefully.
The dream came uninvited, like always.
He stood in the hallway of his childhood home. The walls were too white, the silence too loud.
He heard his elder brother Callum's voice echoing-"I didn't do it, Niel. You believe me, right?"
He wanted to answer, but his throat locked.
Then came Ryle running straight from the airport, young and breathless
"what happened Neil?"
Suddenly, the hallway blurred and shifted.
He was at the hospital.
Running.
The smell of antiseptic. His mother's hand, cold in his.
His father's voice boomed from behind him-calm, arrogant, detached.
"She was weak. Move on, Niel. Grief makes men slow."
The boy inside him wanted to scream. But he stayed silent.
The dream ended like it always did-with him standing alone in a white hallway that never ended.
The morning light hadn't broken yet.
And just like every day...
He got up.
Silent.
Sharp.
Unbreakable.
At least on the outside.
The alarm buzzed at 6:30 AM.
But he was already up.
Niel sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes with a heavy breath. His shirt clung to his back from the cold sweat. The dream still echoed in his chest like a weight he couldn't shake off.
He stared out the window for a moment-Seattle's skyline still half-asleep under a silver sky.
No messages. No missed calls.
Silence, just the way he preferred it.
He got dressed like clockwork-white shirt, navy scrubs, coat over his arm. But there was a tightness in his jaw, a quiet sharpness in his steps.
By 9:10 AM, he walked into Harmony and Care Hospital, his face composed, eyes distant.
Nurses nodded. He didn't speak much.
Interns straightened their backs cleaning his path.
He was precise.
Eva stood in front of the cardio ward mirror, adjusting her ID badge for the fifth time.
"Calm down," she whispered to her reflection. "You're trained. You're smart. You're not going to trip in front of the cardio god. Again."
She took a breath and stepped into the ward, clipboard in hand, ponytail bouncing.
Inside, the morning briefing had just begun. All the interns gathered, murmuring notes, nurses moved swiftly. Then came him.
Dr. Niel Morris walked in like a storm in still water-silent, intense, and utterly unreadable. He didn't spare a glance as he flipped through a patient's chart. His brows twitched as he read something that didn't sit right.
Eva cleared her throat softly and stepped forward.
"Good morning, Dr. Morris. I'm-"
"I know who you are, Dr. Walter," he cut in without looking up. "Try not to be late today."
Ouch.
"Of course," she said quickly, cheeks burning.
He passed her a file. "Room 509. Pre-op assessment. Aortic valve stenosis. Show me what you've got in ten minutes."
Eva blinked. "Alone?"
He finally looked up, just briefly. "You want hand-holding, join pediatrics."
She pressed her lips together and nodded. "Right. Room 509."
Ten minutes later, she stood in front of the patient's bed, rattling off symptoms, murmuring to herself, occasionally tapping her pen against her clipboard. She was nervous, sure-but she was also determined.
When Niel walked in, he listened to her report quietly. No interruptions. No reactions.
When she finished, she waited for a comment-any comment.
Instead, he simply said, "Not bad.You will be dealing with this case. Don't mess."
And just like that, he walked away.
Eva blinked. Did... did he just compliment her?
Well. Maybe.
Sort of.
She couldn't help the tiniest smile as she turned back toward the patient as she got her first case.
One small win.
The cafeteria was alive with trays clattering and interns catching their breath between sessions. Eva spotted Lexi and Trenton at their usual corner table.
"How's the cardio god?" Trenton asked with a smirk as she slid into her seat.
Eva dropped her tray. "Cold. Intimidating. Might be secretly carved from stone. But he didn't completely roast me, so... success?"
Lexi sipped her iced coffee dramatically. "Girl, you survived a Niel Morris stare-down on day one. That's a badge of honor."
"Speaking of," Eva said, turning to her, "Where were you all morning?"
Lexi grinned. "Assigned to gynae. Dr.J.Bennett. She's literally my role model-sharp, fierce, and apparently immune to sleep. I got my first pelvic case to assist tomorrow."
"God help the uterus," Trent muttered.
Lexi rolled her eyes. "Just because you're stuck in neuro doesn't mean you can throw shade."
"Hey!" Trent raised both hands. "I'll have you know I just assisted on a trigeminal neuralgia consult. And didn't pass out once."
Eva laughed. "So we're all still standing. That's a win."
They clinked water bottles in solidarity.
---
Just then, an intern coordinator walked by calling out names. "New interns-report to your assigned wards!"
Lexi groaned, pushing her tray away. "Time to meet our patients. Hopefully none of them bite."
Trent stood, stretching. "Let's try not to get reassigned based on sarcasm this time."
Lexi smirked and smacked the back of his head. "You'll be the first, trust me."
"Shut up," Trent muttered, rubbing his head, trying not to smile.
Eva laughed, grabbing her clipboard. "Come on, doctors. Let's not get fired on day two."
They filed out together, their nerves hidden behind teasing smiles and sarcastic jabs-ready or not, the real work was about to begin.
Eva adjusted her stethoscope, double-checked her notes, and walked into Room 509.
Her patient, Mr. Callahan, was in his mid-sixties, wiry and grumpy, with sharp eyes and an oxygen cannula looped behind his ears.
"You're the baby doctor?" he grunted.
Eva smiled gently. "Dr. Eva Walter. Intern, but I'll be helping monitor your case under Dr. Morris."
"Don't mess up, sweetheart. I got a valve that's older than you."
She chuckled softly, checking his vitals. "Well, your valve's in good hands, Mr. Callahan."
Outside, Niel watched through the glass. He noted her calm tone, the way she held eye contact, how she explained the meds slowly, clearly. She was green-but good.
He didn't smile. But something in his gaze softened.
Lexi stood beside Dr. J.Bennette, gloves on, eyes wide as she assisted with an ultrasound.
The patient, a young woman in her second trimester, was emotional, fidgeting with her wedding ring.
Lexi placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Your baby looks perfect. A little dancer already."
The patient smiled through tears. "Really?"
"See that flutter?" Lexi pointed on the screen. "That's a strong heartbeat."
Kate glanced at Lexi with approval. "Good patient communication. You're staying on this case."
Lexi beamed under her mask. "Thank you, Dr. J.B."
Trenton faced a teenage boy with tremors and recurring migraines. His chart was complex, symptoms overlapping.
"Hey, Dylan," Trent said with a soft smile, pulling up a stool. "Ever played Mario Kart on caffeine and zero sleep? That's kinda what your brain's doing right now."
Dylan snorted. "That bad?"
"Not unfixable," Trenton winked. "We'll get you sorted. But we're gonna need some brain scans and zero Monster Energy drinks, alright?"
Dr. Rachel Adams passed by, pausing to nod. "Keep that tone with the kids. They open up faster."
Trent grinned. "All part of the charm."
---
By evening, all three friends had their first wins-and a few mini-panic attacks. But they were doing it. Living the life they'd worked so hard for.
And far down the corridor, Eva caught a glimpse of Niel walking past-tall, unreadable, in his element.
She didn't know why she hoped he'd glance her way.
But this time...
He did.
And just for a second, their eyes met.