5.A Corridor, A Coffee, and a Little Chaos
The hospital was quieter than usual that afternoon—just the distant beeping of monitors and the rhythmic hush of footsteps against the polished floor.
Eva walked down the corridor with a report file clutched to her chest, hair loosely tied up, her eyes scanning the list of post-op vitals. Her thoughts kept drifting—mostly to Ria, who hadn’t messaged since the fashion show.
She was hurt, Eva could tell. And pissed.
Her phone buzzed softly in her pocket. A one-line message from Ria:
“Let it go. I’ve got plans for that idiot.”
Eva smirked. Sounds like Ria. But as she turned the corner—bam.
Straight into someone.
“Oh shoot—”
The file slipped. Papers fluttered to the ground like defeated birds.
A sigh.
“Dr. Walter.”
She looked up.
Dr. Neil Morris. Again.
“You seem to enjoy bumping into me during your rounds,” he said dryly, crouching to pick up the papers.
Eva chuckled. “Maybe the universe wants you to slow down.”
He handed her the papers, gaze flat but not sharp. “I don’t slow down. I finish.”
She smiled. “I noticed. That’s why I left you a coffee in the staff lounge yesterday.”
Neil blinked. “You did?”
Eva nodded. “You were on your third night shift when I left for my sister’s event. I asked Nurse Clara to keep it on the warmer with a sticky note—‘For the machine who needs oil.’”
His lips twitched. Almost a smile.
“I thought it was a prank,” he muttered. “Didn’t know residents were brave enough to call me a machine.”
Eva shrugged. “Well, I am brave I guess.”
There was silence. Not tense—just loaded.
Neil looked at her for a moment longer than necessary.
“Thanks,” he said finally, voice low. “It helped.”
Eva’s brows lifted. “The caffeine?”
He looked down the hallway, then back at her.
“The gesture.”
And before she could react, he turned and walked away, just like always.
But this time, she caught it—the subtle roll of his shoulder, the lighter step.
And she smiled to herself.
So the machine does notice kindness…
"Wow"
Later that evening, Eva stood outside OR-2, arms folded, tapping her pen gently against the chart. The surgery inside had just ended—a complicated valve replacement that had gone on for hours.
She didn’t scrub in, but she’d watched. Every movement. Every instruction.
Every time Neil didn’t even need to look—he just knew.
The doors finally swung open, and Neil walked out, removing his gloves, sweat lining his hairline, scrub cap slightly tilted. He didn’t look at her—he never did at first.
“Patient’s stable,” he said, slipping the chart from her hands without asking.
“I saw,” she replied, trying not to stare.
He walked past her. She followed.
They walked side by side down the long hallway, the kind that echoed every footstep and every breath you didn’t know you were holding.
“You should rest,” she said suddenly, voice low.
He didn’t respond for a few seconds. “I’ll rest when the ward’s not full.”
She looked at him. “That day will never come.”
A soft sound. It took her a moment to realize—it was a chuckle. Dry, brief, but real.
“I thought I was the sarcastic one,” he murmured.
She smiled, looking ahead. “I’ve had practice. With you.”
Silence again.
Until Neil stopped walking.
Eva blinked, taking one step before realizing he was no longer beside her. She turned.
He was staring at her—not harsh, not cold, but searching.
“What?” she asked, lips curling.
Neil didn’t answer.
Instead, he said, “Why cardio?”
Eva blinked. “Why... what?”
He took a breath. “Why this specialty? You could’ve picked neuro, ortho, paediatrics. Why this one?”
No one had asked her that yet. Not once.
Eva hesitated, then spoke. “Because it’s the heart. It's… quiet when it breaks, but loud when it fights to survive. I guess I admire that.”
Neil stared a second longer. His eyes softened—just a little.
“That’s not a bad answer,” he said.
Then he turned again. Walked on. Leaving her to catch up.
Eva caught up with Neil as he swiped into the staff-only corridor, still looking like he’d walked out of a medical journal.
“Wait—Dr. Morris,” she called.
He paused at the door, tilting his head just slightly. “You already thanked me. You don’t owe another one.”
“I didn’t say I was here to thank you.”
He turned fully, arching a brow.
She stepped closer, notebook in hand. “I watched the valve replacement. I had questions.”
He nodded slowly. “You always do.”
“Good residents are supposed to,” she replied with a soft grin.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, waiting.
Eva flipped her notebook. “Why didn’t you go for a mechanical valve for that patient?”
“Too risky with her clotting profile. Tissue was safer.”
“And that stitch technique you used for the left atrial wall—I've never seen it done that fast. You didn’t use the standard method.”
Neil shrugged. “Standard wastes time. Precision saves lives.”
She blinked, scribbling. “Do you always modify techniques like that?”
“When I trust my hands more than the textbook.”
Eva looked up, surprised. “That’s...bold.”
“That’s cardio.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “You really do have a one-liner for everything, don’t you?”
He glanced at her notebook. “Are you done?”
“Almost.” She bit her lip. “Do you ever get scared before going into surgery?”
He paused. That one caught him off guard.
Then, voice lower:
“Only when I care too much.”
Eva’s fingers froze over the page. Her eyes met his.
He looked away first this time.
“Don’t overthink that,” he added quickly, pushing off the wall. “And don’t take feelings into the OR. They blur things.”
“Is that what happened to you?” she asked softly, the question out before she could stop it.
Neil stilled. For a beat. Two.
Then—
“Goodnight, Dr. Walter.”
He walked away again.
And Eva just stood there, notebook forgotten, heart somehow a little louder than before.
Outside Harmony and Care Hospital, 9:43 p.m.
Eva yawned as she exited through the sliding doors, walking side by side with Lexi and Trent, two fellow residents. The night shift had just begun, and they’d finally been cut loose.
Trent stretched. “God, I need sleep, or caffeine. Or a new career.”
Lexi laughed. “Same. But I’ll settle for a ride home and a breakfast that doesn’t come from a vending machine.”
Eva smiled tiredly. “I just want my bed.”
They walked toward the parking lot, steps slow, eyes sleepy—until Eva stopped.
Across the lot, leaning against a shiny black Audi, stood a tall figure in a grey hoodie and ripped jeans. Head down, casually scrolling his phone like he owned the place.
He did not belong.
“Who’s that?” Lexi whispered.
Trent squinted. “Some rich college kid? He looks... expensive.”
Eva took a step forward just as the man looked up—and smirked.
“Finally,” he said lazily, pushing off the car. “Took you long enough.”
Neil walked out the hospital doors behind them, coat in hand. His expression didn’t shift when he saw the figure.
“Ryle,” he said flatly.
Eva blinked. Ryle? As in—
Neil’s brother.
“Big bro,” Ryle said, grinning. “Looking delightfully dead inside, as always. You really need a vacation.”
Neil ignored the sarcasm. “Why are you here?”
Ryle threw his arms up. “Wow. Not even a ‘hi’? Or a ‘missed you, champ’? I drove across town.”
“Ryle.”
“I’m here for the car,” he sighed. “Dad said he wants me to use it till mine’s fixed.”
Neil handed over the keys without argument.
Eva watched in silence, standing just far enough not to be seen—until Ryle spotted her.
“Oh?” His gaze shifted. “Who’s the sunshine?”
Neil turned slightly. Their eyes met.
“Resident,” he said. One word. Tight.
Eva stepped forward with a polite smile. “Eva Walter.”
Ryle gave a dramatic bow. “Ryle Morris. Younger, cooler, and significantly less terrifying Morris brother.”
Lexi choked back a laugh behind Eva. Trent nudged her.
Neil pinched the bridge of his nose.
Ryle leaned in slightly toward Eva. “Tell me, Dr. Walter, does he always glare like that or is it just when I’m around?”
Eva smiled, trying not to let her nerves show. “You might be the trigger.”
Neil turned to her. “Go home, Walter.”
It wasn’t rude. It was quiet. But Eva could hear something new in it.
Concern?
She nodded. “Goodnight, Dr. Morris.”
Both of them.
As she and her friends walked away, Ryle looked after her, then turned to Neil.
“She’s cute.”
Neil didn’t reply. He was already walking toward the car.
But Ryle caught the smallest flicker in his brother’s expression. And grinned.
“Ohhh... interesting.”
Lexi’s apartment – 11:17 p.m.
It was late and lexi insisted Eva to stay tonight in her apartment.
Lexi was curled up at the foot of the bed, a fluffy blanket wrapped around her legs and a tub of half-melted ice cream in her lap. Eva sat near the window, sipping coffee, her hair down, face fresh after a shower.
“So…” Lexi began, spinning the spoon in the tub like it was a spell. “You didn’t tell me that Dr. Neil has a hot younger brother.”
Eva laughed. “I didn’t know either until tonight.”
Lexi’s eyes widened. “And he’s so… different. Like sunshine and chaos and charm in one hoodie.”
“Mm-hmm,” Eva hummed. “Complete opposite of Neil.”
Lexi smirked. “I don’t know. They both have the same eyes. Intense. Calculating. But Ryle masks it with jokes. Neil masks it with… emotional constipation.”
Eva nearly spit her coffee. “Lexi!”
“What?” Lexi grinned. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Eva shook her head, grinning now. “You’re not. It’s just… funny hearing someone say it out loud.”
They both laughed.
There was a small pause before Lexi leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
“So,” she said casually. “Do you like him?”
Eva blinked. “Ryle?”
Lexi side-eyed her. “No, dummy. Neil.”
Eva hesitated. Her fingers tightened slightly around the mug.
“Nope,” she murmured. “He’s… complicated. Cold. Quiet. But sometimes he says things that stick in my head for hours.”
Lexi raised a brow. “Sounds like you’re already stuck.”
Eva looked down into her coffee. “Nah, I just like the way he works.And I don’t think he even sees me that way.”
Lexi smirked. “Oh, honey… the man noticed your sleep schedule. That’s code red level interest for someone like him.”
Eva rolled her eyes. “Lexi— just sleep.Good night.”
Ria walked through the courtyard like she owned it—heels sharp, ponytail tighter than her patience. The morning sun hit her sunglasses just right, but her thoughts were already far ahead. Planning. Plotting.
She hadn’t told anyone. Not even Eva. Yes she shared the incident with her but not the names.
But she’d gone back after the show to collect her sketchpad… and she heard them.
Lara giggling. Ryle laughing.
“Told you I’d make sure you won,” he had said casually.
“But what about that other girl’s design?” Lara asked.
“Please,” Ryle scoffed. “Ria Walter? She’ll survive. She looked like she could kill someone in heels anyway.”
Her jaw had clenched. Her hands had balled into fists behind the wall.
And in that moment, Ria didn’t just plan revenge.
She became it.
Now, as she approached the entrance to the design wing, a familiar voice rang out from the side of the courtyard.
“Hey—”
She turned slowly, keeping her expression calm. Blank. Dangerous.
Ryle Morris leaned against a parked car which he took from his brother yesterday, phone in one hand, casual smile on his face like he hadn’t just crossed the wrong girl a day ago.
“You dropped this,” he said, holding up a brooch.
Ria eyed the pin, then him. “Really?”
He grinned. “Couldn’t miss a chance to return something to the most sharply dressed woman on this campus.”
She took a step closer. Tilted her head.
“Do you always roam into other colleges making bad jokes and rigging competitions?”
His smile faltered—just slightly. “Rigging? Woah. I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”
“Do I?” she asked sweetly, lips curling. “Name’s Ria. Walter.”
She watched closely. His pupils flickered—recognition hit.
But he recovered fast.
“Ah,” he said, letting out a breath. “The legend herself. You really were amazing, by the way.”
“Pity your vote didn’t agree.”
He smiled again, smoother this time. “I wasn’t a judge.”
“But you had influence.”
He raised a brow. “You believe everything you hear?”
She leaned in closer, close enough that her perfume curled around him like fire.
“No. I believe what I saw. And what I heard. You and your sparkle-barbie whispering in the corner after the show? Yeah. Next time, lower your voice.”
She turned to walk away.
But paused.
“Oh—and one more thing?” she said without looking back.
“You picked the wrong girl to underestimate.”
Ryle stood frozen, lips parted, watching her disappear through the doors.
Then—he let out a low whistle.
“…Damn. She knows.”