Chapter Fifteen
RIVEN
The hospital atmosphere shifted the moment we returned from Boston.
Conversations would stop abruptly whenever Mireya and I entered the break room together. Even the junior resident offered a knowing smile when Mireya handed me a patient chart. The scrub nurses exchanged glances during pre-op briefings.
Small, subtle details, barely detectable to an outsider. But more than enough to make my spine straighten with defensive instinct.
We'd been meticulous about maintaining professional distance in public. No physical contact. No lingering looks across hallways. We operated with surgical precision in our separation.
None of it mattered.
People either knew or strongly suspected something had changed. As though everyone had decided to pay close attention to us where they had ignored us before.
The surgery scheduled for that morning was a standard aortic valve replacement. Routine. I had performed it hundreds of times.
Despite the familiarity of the task, I felt the weight of every pair of eyes in the operating room.
“Scalpel,” I requested, keeping my voice flat.
Mireya handed the instrument to me. Our fingers didn’t touch during the exchange, as we were always so careful to avoid even the slightest contact.
“Retraction,” I said.
She adjusted the surgical angle perfectly, just as she always did during our cases. Even with the masks on, I caught the scrub technician whispering something to the resident, their eyes flicking toward us before dropping back to the patient.
My hands remained perfectly steady. That was the one thing I could always control.
“Suture,” I called out.
The surgery took exactly two hours to complete from the first incision to the final stitch. I stripped off my surgical gloves as soon as we finished closing and left the room without saying another word to anyone.
Once inside the scrub room, I spent a much longer time washing my hands than was necessary.
“Dr. Cross?” a voice called out from the hallway.
I looked up from the sink to see the young resident standing in the doorway. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, smile already fixed in place before he'd said a word.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Excellent work in there today, sir.” He offered a smile that felt far too familiar for our professional standing. “You and Nurse Rosen have such great chemistry together. In the operating room, I mean.”
His words were innocent on the surface and framed as a professional compliment. But the specific tone he used suggested a hidden meaning that made my blood run cold.
I finished drying my hands with deliberate care. "Was there something specific you needed?"
"No, sir. Just wanted to say good job." He retreated quickly.
I stood in silence, his careful choice of words still hanging in the air.
Cassian found me sitting in my private office about an hour later. He closed the door and took a seat in the guest chair without waiting for an invitation to sit.
"We need to talk," he stated.
"I'm busy with post-op documentation."
"I don't care." He leaned back, studying my face with that unsettling perception of his. "I've been hearing rumors."
"What kind of rumors?"
“They’re talking about you and Mireya. People are gossiping about what happened at the conference in Boston. They want to know if something is happening between the two of you.”
My hands stopped typing. “Who exactly is doing the talking?”
“Just about everyone. I’ve heard it from the nurses, the residents, and even the attending physicians who have nothing better to do.” He paused. “It isn't necessarily malicious talk. People are just curious because the 'Ice King' is finally showing interest in a human being.”
“I haven’t shown any inappropriate interest. We have remained professional at all times.”
“You have been acting differently lately. You‘re less cold and a bit more human. People tend to notice those kinds of changes in a person like you.”
I dragged my hands down my face. “What are they saying specifically about us?”
“They know you went to Boston together. They noticed that you're much gentler with her in the OR than you are with anyone else. Rumor has it that she moved into your house because a resident saw her entering your building.” He held up a hand to stop me when I opened my mouth to argue. “I know the actual reason is for Emma’s medical supervision, but most people are unaware of that detail. They just see a woman living in your private residence.”
“It's nobody’s business but our own,” I snapped.
“You’re right about that, but hospital politics don't care about what should be private.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m not telling you this to make you paranoid. But you need to be fully aware of the situation. People are paying very close attention to your every move.”
“Let them watch all they want. We haven’t done anything wrong or illegal.”
"Have you formally disclosed the relationship to HR yet?"
I paused.
"We're planning to."
"You should probably do it sooner. Before someone else does it for you."
With that final warning, he got up and left my office.
We tried so hard to be careful about our behavior, yet it still was not enough to keep the rumors at bay.
The department meeting that afternoon followed the usual routine of surgical schedules and staffing updates. I presented my upcoming cases with my standard level of detail and professionalism.
But the weight of the room's attention never lifted. A representative from the board sat at the far end of the long conference table. She was an older woman with a sharp gaze whom I had seen at various conferences but never spoke with directly.
She watched me while I talked and it felt different from a typical professional assessment, as if she were looking for a crack in my armor that she could exploit. When the meeting finally ended, she offered me a neutral nod that made my stomach drop.
Three days later, my administrative assistant mentioned something in passing that caught my attention.
“Dr. Henley has requested a formal meeting with the administration,” she said while dropping off a stack of paperwork on my desk. “It's weird because he never attends administration meetings.”
“Dr. Henley?” I asked, trying to place the name.
“He’s a cardiologist who works mostly on the third floor. I believe he was also at that medical conference in Boston last week.”
Boston.
My hands went cold.
“Did they mention what the meeting was about?”
“I have no idea. It's just more hospital gossip.” She shrugged. “It's probably nothing important.”
She left the room. I sat there trying to remember if I had even seen Henley while we were in Boston. I couldn't place his face or remember a single interaction with the man during the entire trip.
That lack of memory only made it worse.
Two days later, I received a formal email from the Chief of Staff requesting my presence for a discussion regarding "departmental matters."
I already knew what was waiting for me before I even reached the door.
The Chief of Staff, Dr. Patricia Norms, sat behind her large mahogany desk. She was in her fifties and had always been fair and professional during the years we had worked together.
“Riven, thank you for coming on such short notice.” She gestured toward the empty chair. “Please, take a seat.”
I sat down and waited for the blow to fall.
“I’ll get straight to the point. We have received a formal report from Dr. Jason Henley regarding your personal conduct at the conference in Boston.”
“What exactly does the report say?” My voice came out tight, clipped.
“Dr. Henley claims he witnessed an altercation at the hotel check-in desk regarding shared lodging, and later observed behavior suggesting a personal relationship.” She folded her hands on the desk. “He felt obligated to report the matter due to hospital policy.”
My vision narrowed. “He overheard a conversation.”
“Yes, that’s what he stated.”
“And he decided to turn that into a formal complaint against us.”
“It's a formal report, yes.”
I took a deep breath through my nose and tried to maintain my composure. “Dr. Norms, my relationship with Mireya is entirely consensual between two adults. It has no negative impact on our professional performance in the hospital.”
“I’m not questioning your skill or your professionalism, Riven.”
“Then what’s the actual issue here?”
“Hospital policy strictly requires the disclosure of relationships between staff members, especially those who work together.” She pulled a document from a folder. “You and Nurse Rosen work together on a regular basis. That creates a potential conflict of interest that the board can’t ignore.”
“We’re both professionals who maintain appropriate boundaries while we're on the clock.”
“I believe you, but the board is very concerned about optics and maintaining professional standards. They need to ensure there’s no favoritism or coercion happening.”
“There’s no coercion involved here. Mireya and I are equals in this relationship.”
“In the eyes of the institution, she's a staff nurse and you're an attending physician. That’s not an equal balance of power.” She spoke gently, as if she were trying to soften the news. “I'm not accusing you of anything illegal. I'm simply explaining how the board views the situation.”
My hands clenched into tight fists in my lap. “What happens next?”
“You’ll need to formally disclose the relationship immediately.
There will be an investigation to ensure that no policy violations have occurred.
” She looked at me with a sympathetic expression.
“Depending on the findings, the board may likely ask Ms. Rosen to transfer to a different department or change your shifts. They want to eliminate the direct working relationship entirely.”
Transfer.
A different department.
The words echoed in my mind like a death sentence for our daily lives.
“How long is this investigation going to take?”
“It will likely take a few weeks, perhaps even longer.” She looked at me with kindness. “I'm sorry, Riven. I know this is a difficult situation, but we have to follow the protocol.”
I left her office hollowed out. The hospital hallway was too bright, the noise too loud. People passed me by while talking about normal things like lunch plans or weekend trips.
I walked back to my office and closed the door firmly. I sat at my desk and tried to process the reality of the situation. A formal report had been filed, an investigation was starting, and a transfer was on the horizon.
I miscalculated the situation. I thought being careful and keeping things private would be enough to protect us both.
I had been devastatingly wrong.
Someone I barely knew had decided to make our private lives his business. And now, Mireya would be the one to face the harshest consequences.
Because of me.
Because I let this happen.
Because I wanted something I knew the world wouldn’t allow me to keep.