Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
ELENA
The first thing Elena did after arriving to work was brew a cup of coffee. She slept terribly the night before. The implications of the new deadline raced through her mind all night.
Twenty-nine days. Four weeks to complete what they'd planned for eight.
The coffee finished brewing. Elena poured herself a cup and carried it back to her desk.
She pulled up the meeting notes from yesterday, scanning the carefully worded email summarizing their new expedited timeline.
The language was vague about which board member had pushed for the acceleration.
But Elena knew. David might as well have added his annoyingly elegant signature at the bottom.
Elena barely said a word during the meeting.
Paul laid out the new timeline in painful detail.
Elena just stared at her notebook, but she could feel everyone in attendance shifting uncomfortably.
Everyone knew how wrong this was, yet no one had the power to stop it.
And they knew if they contested this news, they could face the same fate as Elena.
When Paul concluded, he added, “The asked me to convey to you that they have full confidence in your ability.”
Full confidence. As if confidence could bend time or ethical guidelines.
As if confidence could make trauma patients heal faster or data accumulate more quickly.
They would need to revise the entire research schedule, accelerate data collection, possibly bring in additional assistants.
And do it all without compromising patient care or research quality.
After the meeting, Paul caught her in the hallway. "I take it the date didn't go well?" he'd inquired.
"It didn't," she'd confirmed, her defenses still down from the shock of the meeting. "I wasn't aware of his position on the board when the date was set up."
Paul had nodded, studying her with unexpected seriousness. "I have begun filing an appeal on your behalf." He'd paused, then added with surprising honesty, "But historically… appeals have been unsuccessful."
Unsurprising, she thought. She had turned to leave, when Paul's voice stopped her.
"And Elena," he'd said, "I see how the kid looks at you. I don't know what's going on there, but don't do something stupid and destroy everything you've worked for. You have enough on your plate right now."
As always, Paul was right. He said what she already knew but hadn't wanted to face. She had a son to support, a career built over decades of sacrifice, research that could help countless people. She couldn't risk it all for feelings she had no right to indulge.
The lab door opened, snapping her back to reality. Elena knew without looking up that it was Finn.
She took a steadying breath before turning.
He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes suggesting he'd slept as poorly as she had. Finn had sent her a text message last night: ‘We will get through this.’ It was his unwavering conviction again, the same conviction that convinced her to try the new protocol. She had always respected that conviction. But now it just highlighted the gap between them. Finn was younger, hadn’t yet learned how the system ground people down. He wasn’t jaded yet. Not like her.
"You're here early," he said, his voice warm. "Couldn't sleep either?"
The way he asked, with genuine concern, made it hurt even more.
It all needed to stop. They needed distance.
They couldn’t afford to care for each other anymore.
Supervisor and assistant, nothing more, nothing less.
This was why she'd come in early, to prepare herself, to reinforce the walls she needed to build between them.
"Given our new timeline, I thought it best to maximize our working hours," she responded, keeping her tone professionally neutral while turning back to her screen. "We'll need to restructure our entire research schedule."
She could feel him processing her response, reading the deliberate distance she was creating.
For a brief, guilty moment, she imagined what might happen if she turned back to him, admitted how much she'd wanted to call him last night, how she'd almost driven to his apartment just to see him, talk to him, be held by him again.
Instead, she pulled up a spreadsheet, focusing on the rows of data that blurred before her eyes. She heard him move closer, felt his presence at the edge of her workspace.
"Elena," he said softly, "I just want you to know I'm here for you. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure we hit this deadline."
The sincerity in his voice nearly undid her.
Why did he have to make this so fucking difficult?
After she'd left him hanging all evening with no communication, after she'd arrived early specifically to avoid him, he was still offering unconditional support.
Putting her needs, their research, above his own feelings.
She forced herself to turn and meet his eyes, knowing he deserved some kind of explanation. "Finn, this can't happen. Us... can't happen." She watched many emotions flash across his face, until he landed on something like resigned acceptance.
"The situation with David is my fault," she continued, needing to take responsibility. "I should have been more careful, more professional. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if this research fell apart because of my personal choices."
She stood, needing to move, to do something with the restless energy that threatened to crack her resolve. "This work is bigger than us, Finn. Think of Eric; think of all the patients we could help."
Finn remained still, watching her with careful attention. "What about you? What do you want?"
She wasn’t allowed to think about what she wanted.
What she wanted was irrelevant. There were patients depending on their research, careers at stake, and Miguel’s future to protect.
"That doesn’t matter. I don't know what I was thinking, anyway.
You're fifteen years younger. You're my assistant. I should have known better."
Every word was calculated to push him away. She forced herself to maintain eye contact with him, and the look in his eyes almost broke her. In that moment, she hated herself for causing him pain, for making him doubt what had happened between them.
He was quiet for a long moment, jaw working as he processed, then said, "I understand." His voice was steady, controlled. "The research comes first. It always has."
He paused, then added with quiet determination, "We'll get through the deadline.”
Part of her wanted him to argue, to tell her she was wrong, to fight for what had sparked between them.
Instead, he accepted her decision with grace, putting the research and her needs above his own feelings.
The urge to close the distance between them, to take it all back, to hold him just once more, rose so strongly she had to clench her fists to stop herself.
The lab door opened again, saving her from herself. Two research assistants entered, chattering about their weekend, and both Elena and Finn shifted into their professional roles.
"Good morning," Elena greeted them, her voice attempting to mask the emotion that had filled it moments before. "Once everyone arrives, we'll need to review some significant changes to our timeline."
"Is everything okay?" one assistant asked, catching the tension in the room.
"Just stress with the new deadline," Elena replied smoothly. "We’ve got a lot of work to do."
She caught Finn's eye for a moment, saw his almost imperceptible nod. Whatever happened between them, she knew with absolute certainty that he would never let the research suffer.
The rest of the day established their new normal. Elena assigned tasks through email rather than speaking directly to Finn. When they had to interact, it was clinical: "The Tuesday patient set analysis is complete," he'd say.
"Thank you. Please upload it to the shared drive," she'd respond.
By 7 PM, most of the team had left. Elena and Finn remained, working in their separate orbits. Twenty-nine days to go. She could do this. She had to.
"I'm heading out," Finn said from across the room, his voice startling in the silence. "I've uploaded the revised protocol for the new batch and drafted the ethics committee request for accelerated patient screening."
Elena nodded, not quite looking at him. "Thank you. That's... extremely helpful."
He stood by his desk, bag over his shoulder, hesitating as if there was something more he wanted to say. The moment stretched between them, charged with everything they weren't discussing.
"Goodnight, Dr. Herrera.”
"Goodnight, Finn," she replied, watching as he left.