40.Whats the matter?
Eva rushed through the hospital doors, hair flying, ID swinging against her chest.
On time. Barely.
She exhaled in relief as she checked the duty board.
Assigned: Dr. Destiny Hale — Cardiology (Healthcare NYC)
Procedure: Heart Transplant
Eva straightened instantly.
Dr. Destiny Hale.
The name alone carried weight.
She adjusted her coat and headed toward the cardiology wing.
---
The OT corridor buzzed with controlled urgency.
Dr. Destiny stood near the glass panel—mid-40s, sharp eyes, calm authority. Her presence was steady, not intimidating, but commanding.
Eva approached.
Eva: “Good morning, ma’am. Dr. Eva. Resident.”
Dr. Destiny turned, assessing her in one glance.
Dr. Destiny: “You’re Neil Morris’s wife.”
It wasn’t a question.
Eva blinked.
Of course. Yesterday’s announcement drama.
Eva: “Yes… but today I’m just a resident under your team.”
A pause.
Then—approval.
Dr. Destiny nodded.
Dr. Destiny: “Good. Let's see how steady your hands are inside OT.”
Eva nodded obediently.
Meanwhile, in another wing—
Neil stood in the boardroom, jaw tight, phone buzzing nonstop.
Hospital management issue.
Paperwork. Tension.
Surgical issues on mornings work.
---
Back in cardiology—
Eva scrubbed in, heart racing—not with fear, but with adrenaline.
As she entered the OT, machines hummed softly.
Dr. Destiny spoke calmly.
Dr. Destiny: “This is a high-risk transplant. One wrong move, we lose the patient.”
Eva nodded, eyes sharp.
Eva: “I’m ready.”
Dr. Destiny glanced at her once more.
Dr. Destiny: “Let’s see what you’ve got, Dr. Eva”
Eva inhaled.
Boosting herself.
And the surgery began.
---
In the boardroom, the air was thick, tense, suffocating.
The patient Neil had operated last night was dead. The surgery itself had been successful, but the post-op care had gone wrong. Worse—this wasn’t just any patient. The patient was a VIP, and the operation had been highly confidential.
The chief slammed his hand on the table, face red with fury.
Chief: “Dr. Morris! Do you realize the severity of this situation? This patient was not only VIP but the ex chairman of this hospital. Your post-op negligence has risked our entire hospital’s credibility! And caused to a death.”
Neil stood rigid, his calm exterior a mask for the storm inside.
Neil: “Chief, the operation went smoothly. The patient’s post-op care—”
Chief: “Enough with excuses! This is a breach of trust and protocol! I am seriously considering suspending your license for three months!”
Neil’s jaw tightened, voice sharp.
Neil: “I was done with a six-hour surgery! It was the staff’s responsibility to care for the patient post-op, not mine!”
Chief: “He was a VIP, Neil! You should have stayed a little longer and assisted the residents and nurses before leaving!”
Neil’s fists clenched under the table.
Neil: “I am punctual, and I am good at my work! How can you blame me—and suspend me—over something that is not my fault?”
The room fell silent. Everyone stared, tension thick enough to cut with a scalpel.
The chief leaned in, voice cold and unforgiving.
Chief: “Neil… this is bigger than skill. This is protocol, responsibility, and reputation. A VIP patient, confidential surgery… you cannot leave just because the operation ended. Three months suspension is on the table, pending review.”
Neil’s gaze hardened, lips pressed into a thin line.
Whispers ran around the room. Staff exchanged worried glances.
Neil: “With all due respect, sir, the complication was unforeseeable. I followed the strictest protocol, and the VIP’s privacy was maintained to the best of our ability.”
The chief leaned in, voice low and lethal:
Chief: “The problem isn’t just the patient’s death, Neil. The media is already sniffing. Our hospital’s reputation—and your personal license—is on the line. Three months suspension is not just possibility—it’s likely.”
Board member: “Chief, Neil’s track record is exceptional. Perhaps a formal review first?”
Chief: “Track record doesn’t save lives, Dr. Harper. Or prevent our hospital from scandal. Three months, pending investigation. That’s final—for now.”
Neil’s jaw tightened. His pride burned. He knew this was more than just a medical mistake—it was political, sensitive, and personal.
Neil (calm, firm): “I accept the investigation. I am confident in my decisions and my team’s care.”
The chief glared, pacing like a predator.
Neil: “Then review everything. I welcome it.”
The chief’s glare didn’t waver. The air in the boardroom was electric, each second stretching painfully.
Neil signed the papers before leaving.
--
Back in the operating theatre, Eva adjusted her gloves, eyes sharp, mind razor-focused.
Dr. Destiny: “Clamp here, then monitor the ventricle pressure. Eva, prep the bypass line.”
Without hesitation, Eva responded, her hands moving with precision, anticipating each cue.
Eva (under her breath): “Clamp done… bypass ready… vitals stable.”
For hours, she stayed alert, coordinating with the nurses, assisting with every critical step.
Dr. Destiny occasionally glanced at her, impressed by her quick understanding.
Dr. Destiny: “Good, Eva. You’re adapting faster than I expected. Excellent work.”
Eva’s face remained calm, professional, but inside, her heart raced. She knew the stakes—this patient was high-risk, the surgery complex—but she stayed steady.
Hour after hour, time blurred into a symphony of instruments, monitors, and focused commands.
Finally, after eight grueling hours, the last suture was in place. Dr. Destiny stepped back, breathing a sigh of relief.
Dr. Destiny: “That’s a success. Excellent work, Everyone.”
Eva exhaled, shoulders loosening slightly. Her mind still alert, but a small, proud smile crept onto her face.
She had survived the marathon. She had proved her mettle.
And somewhere deep down, she felt that she had taken another step toward becoming the surgeon she always dreamed to be.
---
Late night, Eva finally pushed open the apartment door, her body aching from the grueling day.
She dropped her bag with a thud and sighed.
Where is Neil? she thought immediately.
Her fingers fumbled for her phone. She typed out a message in excitement, still buzzing from the successful surgery:
"I assisted Dr. Destiny for a heart transplant today!"
Sent… an hour ago. No reply.
She scrolled through her messages, scanning the screen for any sign of him. Nothing.
He’s not in the living room… maybe his room?
She tiptoed through the apartment, calling softly:
Eva: “Neil? Neil, are you here?”
Silence.
She checked the kitchen. Empty.
Her brows furrowed. Did he go out? He usually waits up for me…
She sank onto the couch, exhaustion weighing her down. Her phone buzzed again—but it was just a notification from the hospital, not Neil.
Eva exhaled heavily, frustration mingling with worry.
Where is he? she whispered to herself, running a hand through her hair.
The apartment felt impossibly quiet, almost too quiet without his presence.
She texted him again:
"Neil… I am home,where are you?!"
No reply.
Eva leaned back, letting herself slump against the couch.
After today… she just want to see him…
Tell him everything that happens in OT,share her first experience with him.
Her excitement from the surgery now mixed with longing.
Her eyes went wide.
There, leaning heavily on Denver’s shoulder, was Neil. His normally sharp posture slumped. His hair was messy, shirt untucked, and his cheeks flushed—not from exertion, but from alcohol.
Eva: “…Neil?!”
Denver steadied him.
Denver: “Evening, Eva. He… had a rough day.”
Neil blinked slowly, his focus completely gone. He let out a low groan as he tried to straighten up, failing miserably.
Eva felt a mix of panic, frustration, and worry.
How did he… get like this?
She stepped forward, her hands hovering in front of him.
Eva: “Neil! What's wrong with you?”
But he didn’t answer. He just leaned further onto Denver, mumbling incoherently.
Eva: “Oh God… I can’t believe this.”
Her mind raced. The man who was always composed, intimidating, and sharp—this mess of a man was her husband, and right now in such a vulnerable state.
Eva (muttering to herself): Neil Morris… what have you done to yourself?
Eva quickly stepped forward, her hands gripping Neil’s shoulders to steady him.
Eva: “Neil! You’re coming inside—now. Don’t make me drag you.”
Denver stepped forward, giving her space.
Denver: “He’s… heavy. Be careful.”
"Sure"
"Take care Eva."
"Thank you."
Denver left.
She wrapped an arm around his waist, trying to get him to walk. He swayed dangerously, and she groaned.
"Ugh- this man"
She guided him carefully through the door and into the living room, her frustration melting slightly as she noticed how fragile he looked.
she froze for a second at the bedroom walk space.
"Which one?"
Without a second thought she took him to her room.
Neil slurred something unintelligible, mumbling her name.
Eva: “Just,Shut up!.”
Neil leaned his head on her shoulder, mumbling something about work, patients, and… her.
Eva: Oh, he’s drunk AND sentimental.
Eva: “Sit. Now. Don’t move.”
Neil collapsed onto the bed with a dramatic groan.
Neil: “…wifey…”
“Sleep,” she had muttered, firm but gentle.
She tucked a blanket around him, shaking her head.
Eva sat beside him, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face, watching him sleep with a mixture of exasperation and tenderness.
How does someone so strong turn into such a helpless mess within a day? she thought.
"And… how am I supposed to stop caring?" She said gently touching his cheek.
Her body gave up she need sleep ASAP,
She grabbed a blanket and a pillow adjusting herself on the couch beside window.
Morning came quietly.
Eva woke up stiff, blanket tangled around her legs, sunlight hitting her face. For a second she forgot everything—until she heard a low groan from the bedroom.
She sat up.
Neil.
He was awake.
She stayed where she was, watching the ceiling, pretending she hadn’t noticed yet.
From the bed, his voice—rough, groggy.
“Eva?”
No answer.
A pause.
Then footsteps.
He looked at the couch.
At her.
“…You took the couch?”
Eva glanced at him lazily.
“You left me with no other option, Dr. Morris.”
He frowned slightly, guilt settling in.
“I don’t remember.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s okay.”
“…You should’ve woken me.”
Eva shrugged.
“You were already wrecked. Didn’t feel right kicking you out.”
His chest felt heavy.
For the first time he had this feeling, that's when butterflies hit him—hard.
Not because she was dramatic.
Not because she teased him.
Because she chose him… without making noise about it.
He rubbed his face, exhaled slowly.
“…Thank you.”
Eva looked at him then, surprised.
She nodded once.
“Next time, don’t make me choose the couch.”
A corner of his mouth lifted.
“…Deal.”
She tiptoed to the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water for him.
Eva: “Rise and shine, Morris. How’s the great surgeon after a rough night out?”
Neil groaned again, flopping dramatically onto his side.
Neil: “… headache… world spinning…”
Eva: “World spinning? Nothing abnormal.Do you have any idea how heavy you were?”
Neil squinted at her, a crooked, guilty smile forming.
Neil: “You carried me?"
Eva blinked.
Eva: "Excuse me?"
Neil: "I mean ,what happened exactly."
She scoffed, turning away to pour him coffee.
Eva: “Denver carried you. I supervised. And suffered.”
Neil accepted the cup, fingers brushing hers briefly.
Neil: “…I’m sorry. I was… frustrated.”
Eva leaned against the table now, watching him carefully.
Eva: “Frustrated enough to ruin your own dignity?”
Neil exhaled, staring into the cup like it held answers.
Neil: “Yesterday was a mess.”
Eva raised a brow.
Eva: “That’s not an explanation, Dr. Morris. That’s a headline. I’m asking for the article.”
He let out a breathy laugh despite himself.
Neil: “You’re interrogating me?”
Eva: “I’m married to you. That gives me full rights. So—”
She tilted her head.
“—if you dare to share… I’m listening.”
Neil rubbed his temple, then finally looked at her.
Neil: “They’re suspending me. Temporarily.”
Eva’s smile faded—not dramatic, not loud. Just… gone.
Eva: “For the surgery?”
Neil nodded once.
Neil: “VIP case. Confidential. Post-op complications. They needed someone to blame.”
Eva crossed the room without thinking, crouching in front of him.
Eva: “You are one of the best surgeons they have. How can the chief take such a decision and rub blame on you”
Neil: “Apparently they did it.”
She studied his face—the man who never doubted himself, now quietly defeated.
Eva (soft but firm): “You’re allowed to be frustrated. You’re not allowed to disappear and drink yourself into regret.”
Neil met her eyes.
Neil: “Noted.”
Eva: “Next time, talk to me. Or sulk like a normal human. Alcohol is not your coping mechanism.”
Neil smiled faintly.
Neil: “You slept on the couch, for me?”
Eva paused.
Eva: “Someone had to make sure you didn’t roll off the bed.”
He reached out, catching her wrist gently.
Neil: “so...you are staying.”
Eva didn’t pull away.
Eva: “Don’t get used to it.”
---
Three weeks had passed quietly—no dramatic announcements, no grand confessions. Just days stacking over days, changing things without either of them noticing when it began.
Eva’s life slipped into a rhythm.
Hospital.
Home.
Books.
She’d come back exhausted, hair tied in a messy knot, scrubs smelling faintly of antiseptic and coffee. She’d dump her bag near the door, change, and spread her notes across the dining table or the floor—wherever her mind landed first.
And somehow… Neil was always there.
Some nights he sat across from her with his laptop, reviewing cases while she muttered anatomy under her breath. Other nights, he pulled a chair closer, leaned over her shoulder, and corrected her diagrams with a pen like it was second nature.
“No, Eva. The incision’s more lateral here,” he’d say gently, not like Dr. Morris in the OT, but like someone who wanted her to get it right.
She’d groan. “You enjoy this lately.”
He’d shrug. “I enjoy you not panicking.”
Slowly, her fear softened.
He explained concepts the way textbooks never could—simple, practical, patient. When she got something right, he’d nod once, pride flickering in his eyes like it surprised even him.
And cooking—somewhere along the way, that changed too.
What started as barely-edible attempts turned into decent meals. Then good ones. Then nights where Eva would pause mid-bite, stare at him suspiciously, and say, “Who are you and what have you done with Neil Morris?”
He’d smirk. “You’re welcome.”
They didn’t talk about feelings.
They didn’t define anything.
But he brought her tea without asking.
She liked what ever is wrong with him.She liked the person he had become from a rude surgeon to a soft husband.
Sometimes their shoulders brushed. Sometimes their hands lingered a second too long. Sometimes they caught each other looking—and looked away just as fast.
It wasn’t fast.
It wasn’t loud.
It was a slow burn.
And neither of them realized just how deep they were in, it didn’t feel like effort anymore.
It felt like home.
Neil didn’t remember when life had slowed down like this.
Before—there were clocks everywhere. OT timings, ward rounds, consult calls, meetings stacked over meetings. Five extra minutes in bed had been a luxury he never allowed himself. Sleep was optional. Rest was weakness.
Now…
Now he stayed home more.
Not by choice at first. Suspension paperwork. Administrative delays. Too much time that suddenly belonged to him.
And in that time, he noticed her.
Eva, curled at the dining table late at night, hair loosely left, glasses sliding down her nose as she highlighted lines she already knew by heart.
Eva murmuring mnemonics under her breath while stirring something on the stove.
Eva fighting sleep but refusing to stop because this was her last chance.
He had become a spectator in his own house.
A quiet one.
He watched her pace the room reciting steps of procedures. Watched her frustration when concepts blurred together. Watched how she listened—really listened—when he explained, eyes sharp, absorbing everything.
Some nights he taught.
Some nights he cooked.
Some nights they sat in silence, shoulders brushing, comfortable.
And that was the strangest part.
Comfort.
He wasn’t the top surgeon right now.
He wasn’t the man the hospital depended on every hour.
He was just… Neil.
A husband who brewed coffee at 2 a.m.
A man who learned how much salt was too much because she scrunched her nose.
A man who started waking up earlier—not for surgery—but to see her study before rounds.
Slowly, unknowingly, his world had shifted.
And for the first time in his life, Neil Morris didn’t feel the need to run back to chaos.
He looked at Eva, bent over her notes, determination written into every line of her face.
If this is what staying still feels like, he thought,
maybe I don’t want to move at all.
Neil stood near the doorway, tie loosened, phone buzzing nonstop with reminders he was deliberately ignoring.
“You are leaving a day before my exam,” Eva muttered, buried in books, pencil tapping like a ticking clock. “I swear if I mess up with surgical precision now, I’ll scream.”
He smiled—soft, fond, the kind of smile he didn’t know he owned.
“I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone,” he said.
She looked up. “You’re lying.”
“Nope.” he replied.
Washington DC. Three days. Meetings. Committees. Words that meant nothing compared to the way her shoulders stiffened when he said them.
“So,” she said casually, too casually, “I’ll be a surgeon by the time you’re back.”
"Results?" He questioned.
"You think I am bad that I would FAIL? DR. MORRIS."
He chuckled.
He stepped closer. “You already are an amazing doctor already.”
She swallowed, eyes shining despite herself. “Don’t do that. I’ll cry and then I’ll forget the pharmacological management.”
He reached out, hesitated—then gently tapped her forehead with his knuckle. “You’ve got this. And if you don’t—”
He leaned down, voice low. “—I’ll come back and reteach the entire syllabus. Slowly. Very slowly.”
She laughed, finally. “Threatening me with your teaching skills now?”
“Motivating,” he corrected.
A beat. Silence stretched, tender and fragile.
“Neil?”
“Hmm?”
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
Not hesitantly.
Not politely.
Firm. Tight. Like she meant it.
Neil froze.
Eva’s cheek pressed against his chest, her arms barely fitting around his broad frame. He smelled too fine. She felt comfortable and safe for the moment.
For a second, he didn’t move at all—like a giant statue unsure what to do with affection.
Then slowly… carefully… his arms came around her.
Protective. Warm. Real.
“Come back safe.”
Something in his chest tightened—sharp, unfamiliar, warm.
“I will,” he said quietly. “I have a very important surgeon to come back to.”
Neil rested his chin lightly on her head. His hand slid to her back, thumb brushing small circles he didn’t even realize he was drawing.
“You’ll do great,” he said softly.
She pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Come back soon.”
His eyes softened—unguarded, vulnerable in a way the hospital never saw.
“I will,” he said. “I promise.”
She nodded.
Neil: “So…Am I getting a kiss ?”
Eva froze for half a second.
Then she rolled her eyes, fingers still fisted in his coat.
Eva: “Leave. Your flight will be gone without you.”
But she didn’t let go.
Neil smiled—slow, soft, the kind that only existed with her.
Neil: “You hug me like this and expect me to walk away alive?”
She finally looked up at him. Determined. Nervous. Brave.
Eva: “Just go, Neil.”
He bent slightly—not forcing, not claiming—just placing his lips on her forehead.
A kiss.
When he pulled back,
Neil: “Ace the exam.”
Eva: “Sure.”
And when the door closed behind him, the apartment felt quieter—
—but her heart didn’t feel alone.