Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MIREYA
The presenter continued to speak steadily about minimally invasive valve techniques, but the technical details felt like background noise. I stared at the bright presentation slides without processing any of the information displayed on the screen.
My formal resignation letter was currently sitting in Riven’s email inbox. I doubted he had opened it. Nothing in his demeanor had changed.
Was I expecting something to change? Why would he care whether I resigned or not?
But the least he could have done was acknowledge it. Ask me about it. Maybe he was pretending he hadn't seen it. Or genuinely hadn't checked his email yet.
This uncertainty was killing me.
When the session finally concluded, the room filled with the sound of people gathering their belongings and chatting loudly. I watched groups of surgeons discuss innovations as I walked out into the carpeted hallway to find a quiet corner.
I pulled my phone from my pocket to check for notifications.
Nothing from Riven.
I forced myself to attend the next session and the one after that, nodding and smiling like a polite stranger. I took pages of detailed notes that I knew I would probably never look at again.
By the time the opening reception began at seven, the weight of my performance had left me feeling completely drained.
The event took place in the grand hotel ballroom, filled with the scent of expensive appetizers and the clinking of glassware.
I took a glass of white wine from a passing server and retreated to a corner to watch the crowd.
August appeared beside me almost instantly, his presence feeling far too intentional for a busy room.
"Miss Rosen, are you finding the conference presentations informative so far?" he asked with a smooth smile.
"They have been very educational," I replied, keeping my tone guarded and neutral.
"That sounds like high praise coming from you." He took a slow sip of his drink. "Have you given more thought to my offer?"
"Still weighing my options," I lied, though the words felt heavy on my tongue.
"Of course, please take all the time you need." He studied my expression over the rim of his glass. "I did notice that your rooming situation was eventually resolved. How is that particular arrangement working out for you?"
"Everything's fine."
"Hmm." He tilted his head, his eyes scanning my face for any sign of weakness. "Riven is undeniably a brilliant surgeon, but he isn't the easiest man to work with. I can only imagine that living with him presents its own unique set of challenges."
I turned to look him directly in the eye. "Is there a point you're trying to make, August?"
"Merely making conversation with a colleague." His smile remained perfectly pleasant.
"I'm perfectly comfortable where I am."
"Are you?" He gave me a knowing look that made my skin crawl.
"Excuse me. I need to find my group."
I turned and hurried toward the exit, desperate for air away from the suffocating crowd.
The elevator ride back up to the fourteenth floor felt like it lasted for several hours. Every floor that passed brought me closer to the room I had to share with the man I could not stop thinking about.
I stood outside door 1447 for a long minute, gripping my key card until my knuckles turned white. The electronic lock clicked open, and I pushed my way into the dim room.
Riven was standing by the large window, looking out at the city lights below. He had removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, his white sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms.
He held a glass containing a small amount of amber liquid, and an empty miniature bottle of whiskey sat on the table beside him. His other hand was shoved deep into his pocket. He turned his head the moment I entered, and our eyes locked in the silence of the room.
For several heartbeats, neither of us said a word as the silence between us pulled tight like a wire.
"You decided to return from the reception early," he said finally, his voice sounding raspy.
"I wasn't in the right mood for networking tonight," I replied, setting my bag down on the chair.
"Neither was I," he admitted, turning his gaze back toward the window.
I kicked off my uncomfortable heels, trying to move naturally despite every nerve screaming awareness of his presence.
"Why didn't you just tell me to my face?" he asked quietly, his back still turned toward me.
I didn't pretend not to understand. "It felt like it would be easier for both of us if I put my resignation in writing."
"Easier for whom, exactly?"
"It felt like the more professional way to handle the transition," I argued, though my voice lacked conviction.
"Professional." He repeated the word with a grimace, as if it tasted foul. "You’re moving out of my home, and you chose to tell me through an email?"
"I honestly didn’t know how else to approach the conversation without it becoming difficult."
"You could have just talked to me. We could have sat down like two adults and discussed it."
"Would a face-to-face conversation have changed the end result, Riven?" I stared at him, barely breathing.
He didn’t offer an answer to that question, which felt like an answer in itself. I walked over to the window and stood a few feet away from him.
"August offered me a very good position at his hospital," I said, trying to justify my choice. "It comes with better pay and a spot in a specialized cardiac unit. It's a significant opportunity for my career."
"I'm aware of what he offered," he replied sharply.
"And I found a two-bedroom apartment for Mom and me. It's not a mansion, but it's ours."
"I suppose I should say that I'm happy for you," he said, though he didn’t sound happy at all.
"You suppose?"
He remained silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon. I turned my body to face him fully, needing him to look at me.
I turned my body to face him fully. "This arrangement was always temporary. You made that clear from the beginning. I was only supposed to stay until I could support myself. Well, I'm back on my feet."
"So that’s the end of it, then. You’re leaving."
"Yes."
"You’re leaving the hospital. You’re leaving Emma." He paused, his voice trembling slightly. "You’re leaving… me."
That last word sounded raw, as if he had been forced to pull it from a deep, painful place in his soul.
My heart squeezed. "Riven—"
"Is this honestly what you want for your life?" He set his glass down on the table and crossed his arms over his chest. "You want to put so much distance between us we don’t even get to walk past each other in hallways?"
"It's a smart career move for my future," I whispered.
"That’s not what I asked you, Mireya."
"What do you want me to say?"
"I want the truth for once." He took a heavy step toward me, closing the distance. "Is this what you want? Or are you running away?"
The accusation sparked heat in my chest. "Running from what?"
"You tell me."
"There's nothing to run from. This is a strictly professional decision about my employment."
"That’s complete bullshit, and you know it."
I blinked in shock. I'd rarely heard him curse. "Excuse me?"
"This has nothing to do with your career or August's hospital." He took another step, his presence overwhelming. "This is about us and whatever's been building between us."
"There’s no 'us', Riven. You’re my boss, and I'm your employee. That’s the reality."
"Do you believe that when you say it?"
"Yes," I lied, my voice cracking.
"Then you’re a liar, Mireya."
Something inside me snapped.
"What exactly do you want from me?" I demanded, my voice rising.
"Do you want me to stay in your guest room forever?
Do you want us to keep playing house while you keep me at arm's length?
You barely even look at me anymore. You have spent the last month avoiding me as if I have a contagious disease. "
Tears started to blur my vision. "Do you have any idea what that does to a person? To be close enough to touch someone but never be allowed to reach out? To exist in your home every day but feel like I'm invisible to you?"
He flinched as if I’d struck him.
"I wake up and make coffee, and you're already out the door. I come home, and you're locked away in your study. I pass you in the halls at work, and you look through me as if I'm made of glass." I wiped a tear away. "I can’t spend my life being invisible to the man I care about."
"You have never been invisible to me," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intense level.
"Then what am I to you?"
He didn’t answer immediately, and the silence cut deeper than any words could.
“That’s what I thought." I grabbed my bag from the chair, my heart feeling like lead. "I'm done. I'm tired of pretending this doesn't hurt every single day. I won't exist in the corners of your life anymore."
"Mireya… Wait!” His voice cracked as he called out. "Please don’t go."
I stopped moving, but I could not bring myself to turn around and look at him.
"You're not invisible," he said roughly. "You're the only thing I see. Every morning, every night. You're in every thought I have, and it's killing me."
I turned around slowly, and my breath caught at how wrecked he looked. His hair was messy where he had run his fingers through it, and his eyes were red and raw.
"Three years ago, my fiancée died in a car accident," he began, the words sounding like they were being dragged over broken glass. "A drunk driver ran a red light, and she was gone before the help even arrived."
My throat tightened with a sharp ache for him.
It all made sense now—the distance, the careful routines, the way he always kept one step back even when we were under the same roof. The quiet walls he rebuilt every morning. The way he looked at me like he wanted something he didn’t trust himself to reach for.