Chapter 16 Calla
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CALLA
I lasted two days before the avoidance became its own kind of torture.
I volunteered for every surgery that came through the door for the past two days.
I ate lunch in my office with the blinds drawn.
I would check in the hallway before I walked anywhere, my body on constant alert for the sound of Cassian’s footsteps or the cadence of his voice.
It was cowardly.
It was obvious.
And it was absolutely necessary.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his arm wrapped around my waist, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, and the way our bodies had found each other in sleep like we’d never been apart for years.
I couldn't think about that and let myself remember the warmth of waking up tangled together, only for reality to crash back in.
If I thought about it too long, I'd start believing it meant something.
That we meant something. And the five years distance could be erased by one night of unconscious reaching.
So I hid.
Like a coward.
Apparently I could handle arterial spray and cardiac tamponade, but not the memory of Cassian Reed's breath against my hair.
On the third morning, I was heading for the east stairwell when a hand caught my elbow.
"Hey."
I spun around and found Cassian standing behind me, still in his white coat, with a coffee cup in his free hand. He looked rested. Normal. Like the past two days hadn't been the particular kind of hell I'd been living in.
"Hey," I managed.
"You've been hard to find lately." His tone was light as his green eyes searched my face. "Feels like every time I turn around, you're disappearing into a surgery or a meeting or somewhere I'm not."
"Busy week," I reasoned.
He tilted his head. "Or are you avoiding me?"
I should have lied and given him some lame excuse about patient loads or deadlines or any of the dozen professional reasons that would explain my absence.
But my mouth betrayed me.
"Yes."
Cassian blinked. Whatever response he'd expected, that wasn't it.
"Okay." He glanced down the hallway, then nodded toward the stairwell door. "Can we talk for a minute?"
I followed him. A part of me had been waiting for this conversation even as I'd been running from it. Two days of silence had done nothing except make the wanting worse.
The stairwell was empty, our footsteps echoing against concrete as the door swung shut behind us. I stopped on the landing between floors, my back against the railing, and arms crossed over my chest.
"So," Cassian started. "You want to tell me why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you avoiding me? Why did you practically run out of that hotel room? Why have you been acting like I have some kind of contagious disease every time we're in the same hallway?"
I stared at a crack in the concrete wall, unable to meet his eyes. "It's complicated."
"Uncomplicate it."
"Cassian."
"Calla." His voice was patient but firm. "We have to work together. We're co-leading a team that requires actual communication. Whatever's going on, we need to figure it out."
He was right. I knew he was right. But knowing something and being able to act on it were two different things, and right now the distance between those two points felt insurmountable.
"The hotel," I said finally. "Waking up like that. It messed with my head."
"It was just sleep. Our bodies moved without us deciding to. It doesn't have to mean anything."
Doesn't have to. But it did. At least for me.
"I know," I lied.
"So we're okay? We can go back to being colleagues who occasionally share meals and don't make things weird?"
I should have said yes and taken his offer. Use it to rebuild the professional distance we both needed and swallow everything I was feeling and lock it away somewhere it couldn't cause damage.
But I was so tired of carrying the weight of unspoken truths.
"I don't know if I can do that," I said honestly, the words feeling like thorns rolling off my tongue.
Cassian's brow furrowed. "Why not?"
"Because waking up in your arms didn't just mess with my head." My voice was steadier than I expected, which felt like its own kind of betrayal. "It made me remember everything we used to have. Everything I've spent five years trying to forget."
"Calla—"
"I'm not asking you for anything." I cut him off. "I know you're with Maya and you've built a life without me. I'm not trying to complicate that or make demands or put you in an impossible position."
He heaved a long, deep breath. "Then what are you saying?"
I finally looked at him. His green eyes were wary and confused, waiting for me to say more. He looked like a man bracing for impact without knowing which direction the blow would come from.
"I'm saying that… I… I-I still love you," I voiced. "I… I never stopped. Pretending otherwise has been exhausting and pointless and I can't do it anymore."
Cassian fell silent, and the longer he stared at me the more it was making me uncomfortable.
The stairwell seemed to contract around us, the walls pressing closer, and the air going thick. I watched Cassian's face cycle through emotions I couldn't name, his expression shifting and settling and shifting again.
"Okay," he said finally.
Okay. That was it? One word delivered in a tone so neutral it could have meant anything or nothing at all.
"Okay?" I repeated, my heart throbbing hard against my chest. "I appreciate you being honest with me.
" He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I recognized from a thousand difficult conversations during our marriage.
It was the thing he did when he was processing something he didn't know how to respond to. "That couldn't have been easy to say."
I waited for more—for a clear rejection or anything that would tell me where I stood.
"Look," Cassian continued, "we have history.
A lot of it. And I understand that being around each other again has stirred up old feelings.
" He paused, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he couldn't quite form.
"I think we can still be friends, Calla.
We can find a way to work together and maybe even enjoy each other's company without it being complicated. "
"That's it?" I heard myself ask, scoffing. "I tell you I love you and your response is let's be friends?"
"I don't know what else to say." His voice had dropped, rougher than before. "I need time to think. This is a lot to process."
Cassian stood there, with one hand shoved in his coat pocket and the other gripping the railing like he needed something to hold onto.
I searched his face for clues or any hint of what was going on inside his head, but Cassian had always been better at hiding than I gave him credit for. When he wanted to keep something locked away, not even I could find the key.
"I should go," he said finally. "I have rounds."
"Cassian—"
"I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow." He moved toward the stairs, his footsteps too quick and his posture too rigid. "We can talk more later. When I've had time to—" He stopped, shook his head. "Just give me some time. Please."
And then he was gone. I stayed on the landing, replaying every word, every pause, and every flicker of expression I might have missed.
He hadn't said he didn't love me back.
But he hadn't said he did either.
I didn't know which was worse. A clean rejection I could grieve and move past or this limbo where hope and despair existed—both of them slowly driving me insane.
Friendship. He offered friendship. And I didn't know if I could survive being that close to him without wanting more.
The next morning, I arrived at Obsidian before the sun was up for the review meeting. The parking lot was still half-empty and the hospital quiet before the morning rush.
I slept poorly, my dreams tangled with confessions and the look on Cassian's face when he said okay like it was the most natural response in the world.
I was walking through the main entrance, badge in hand, when I saw a car pull into the lot.
It was Maya’s car. I recognized it from the day I'd seen them together outside the hospital, back when I first started and the sight of them had felt like swallowing the thorns stuck in my throat.
I stopped behind the glass doors, watching as she parked in the visitor lot near the east wing.
Cassian was in the passenger seat.
They got out together. Maya said something that made him laugh, and he reached for her hand as they walked toward the entrance. She leaned into him, and he pressed a kiss to her hair.
Then, just before they reached the doors, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her properly. The kind of kiss that said I'll miss you and I love you and made everyone walking past smile at the obvious affection between them.
I couldn't move.
Or look away.
I just stood there and watched the man I'd confessed my love to less than twenty-four hours ago kiss his girlfriend like she was the center of his universe.
They pulled apart. Maya said something else, probably goodbye, and headed back toward her car. Cassian watched her go with a smile on his face, then turned toward the entrance.
His eyes found mine through the glass.
For a split second, his step faltered. His eyes held mine, and I caught recognition there. Maybe discomfort or it could be something closer to guilt. Then he blinked and kept walking, rearranging his expression into the same blankness he'd worn in the stairwell.
He nodded once, a casual acknowledgment, and walked past me toward the elevator bank.
I stood there for another thirty seconds, watching his back disappear around the corner as something in me went still.
This was what letting go looked like. This was the answer I've been waiting for, delivered not in words but in action.
He heard my confession and gone home to Maya. He woke up this morning and let her drive him to work. He kissed her in the parking lot where anyone could see—where I could see—like my feelings were already forgotten.
Perhaps they were.