Sophia's morning rounds were a disaster.
Not medically—her assessments were flawless, her decisions precise.
But her mood.
"No, not like that," she snapped at a first-year intern who was adjusting an IV line. "You're too slow. The patient's been waiting five minutes. Do it properly or let someone else handle it."
The intern's hands trembled slightly. "Yes, Dr. Whitmore. Sorry."
Sophia moved on, her heels clicking sharply against the tile floor.
In the next room, another intern was reviewing a chart.
"That dosage is wrong," Sophia said, her voice clipped.
The intern looked up, confused. "I—I double-checked it. It matches the prescription—"
"Then check it again and again. And next time, don't waste my time with careless mistakes."
She walked out before the intern could respond.
By the third room, the nursing staff were exchanging glances.
By the fourth, they were actively avoiding her.
Sophia didn't care.
Or rather, she couldn't care.
Her mind was elsewhere.
On Jane.
And Ethan.
And lunch.
Sophia sat at her desk, staring at the patient file in front of her without actually seeing it.
The words blurred together.
What are they doing right now?
She glanced at the clock. 11:47 AM.
Jane's shift ended at noon. Ethan said he'd pick her up.
Sophia's jaw tightened.
Is she smiling at him?
Is she laughing at his jokes?
Will she lean in close the way she did with me?
Will she kiss his cheek?
Sophia's hands curled into fists on the desk.
The thought made her stomach twist.
She stood abruptly, pacing toward the window.
Outside, the city moved on—indifferent, uncaring.
Sophia pressed her fingers to her temple, trying to focus.
This is ridiculous. You don't own her. You have no right to feel this way.
But the logic didn't help.
It didn't make the ache in her chest go away.
She glanced at the clock again. 11:52.
Her phone sat on her desk, silent.
No messages. No updates.
Just the suffocating weight of not knowing.
Sophia grabbed her coat.
She walked out of her office, found the nearest colleague—a senior resident—and said tersely, "Cover my afternoon appointments. I'll be back in an hour."
"Dr. Whitmore, is everything—"
"It's fine. Just do it."
She didn't wait for a response.
The restaurant Ethan had chosen was upscale but casual—large windows, natural light, the kind of place that felt effortless.
Jane sat across from him, her hands folded on the table, a small smile on her lips.
"So," Ethan said, leaning back in his chair. "How long do you think before she shows up?"
Jane blinked. "What?"
"Sophia." Ethan's grin was wicked. "She's coming. I guarantee it."
"You think so?"
"I know so. She's probably losing her mind right now."
Jane's expression softened. "Is that really fair? Making her feel like this?"
"It's not about fair." Ethan's tone turned serious. "It's about getting her to stop lying to herself. Trust me—if I didn't push, she'd let you slip away without ever saying a word."
Jane looked down at her menu. "And if she doesn't show?"
"She will."
Twenty minutes into lunch, Ethan was mid-story about a disastrous family vacation when he paused, his eyes flicking toward the entrance.
His grin widened. "Right on schedule."
Jane turned.
Sophia stood near the hostess stand, scanning the room.
Her eyes found them.
For a split second, something raw crossed her face.
Then she smoothed it away, walking toward them with measured steps.
Ethan leaned closer to Jane, his voice low. "Play along."
Jane nodded.
Sophia stopped at their table, her expression carefully neutral. "Jane. Ethan."
"Soph!" Ethan's smile was too bright, too easy. "What are you doing here?"
"I was in the area. Thought I'd pick up lunch for my team." Sophia's gaze flicked to Jane, then away. "Didn't expect to see you two here."
"Small world," Ethan said, clearly enjoying himself.
Sophia's eyes lingered on the table—the way Ethan and Jane sat close, the half-finished plates, the easy familiarity.
Her jaw tightened.
"Well," she said stiffly. "I should go order."
"Or," Ethan said, gesturing to the empty seat beside Jane. "You could join us."
Sophia hesitated. "I don't want to intrude."
"You're not intruding," Jane said softly.
Sophia's eyes met hers, searching.
Then she sat.
But her posture was rigid, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
Ethan's grin never faltered. "So, Jane and I were just talking about her plans after graduation. She's thinking consulting. Smart, right?"
"Very," Sophia said, her tone clipped.
"And I was telling her about some connections I have. Could set up a few introductions if she's interested."
Sophia's gaze snapped to him. "That's generous of you."
"I'm a generous guy." Ethan's smile was infuriating.
Jane glanced between them, sensing the tension crackling in the air.
"Ethan's been really helpful," Jane said carefully.
Sophia's hands tightened in her lap. "I'm sure he has."
A server appeared. "Can I get you something?"
Sophia barely glanced at the menu. "I'll have six orders of the grilled chicken salad, four pasta dishes, three sandwiches, and two orders of the soup. To go."
The server blinked. "That's... quite a lot."
"It's for my team."
"Right. Of course." The server scribbled it down and left.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot of food, Soph. How many people are on your team?"
"Enough."
Jane bit back a smile.
Ethan leaned forward, his tone casual. "So, Jane. I was thinking—maybe we could do this again? Lunch, I mean. Or dinner. There's this place downtown I think you'd love."
Jane's eyes flicked to Sophia, whose expression had gone dangerously blank.
"That sounds nice," Jane said softly.
Sophia's fork untouched since she sat down clattered against the table.
"Sorry," she muttered, picking it up again.
Ethan's grin widened. "You okay, sis? You seem tense."
"I'm fine."
"You sure? You've been gripping that fork like you're about to stab someone."
Sophia set it down deliberately. "I said I'm fine."
"Okay." Ethan leaned back, clearly enjoying every second. "So, Jane and I—we're in the talking stage. You know, seeing where this goes."
Sophia's head snapped toward him. "The talking stage?"
"Yeah. We're getting to know each other. Seeing if there's chemistry."
Sophia's eyes flicked to Jane, who looked down at her plate.
"And?" Sophia's voice was tight. "Is there?"
Ethan shrugged, his smile maddeningly easy. "I think so. What do you think, Jane?"
Jane hesitated, her heart pounding. "I... I think you're really kind, Ethan."
"Kind." Ethan nodded thoughtfully. "I can work with kind."
Sophia stood abruptly. "I should check on my order."
"They just took it five minutes ago," Ethan pointed out.
"Then I'll make sure they got it right."
She walked toward the counter, her steps quick, controlled.
Ethan watched her go, then leaned closer to Jane. "She's about to combust."
"This feels cruel," Jane whispered.
"It's necessary." Ethan's expression softened. "Trust me. She needs this."
Sophia stood at the counter, her hands gripping the edge, her breathing shallow.
What are you doing?
She'd just ordered enough food to feed half the hospital.
She'd sat down at their table uninvited.
She was acting insane.
And she couldn't stop.
The server appeared with several large bags. "Your order's ready, Dr. Whitmore."
Sophia stared at the bags. "All of it?"
"Yes, ma'am. That'll be $247."
Sophia handed over her card without blinking.
You just spent $247 on lunch you don't need because you couldn't stand watching them together.
She carried the bags back toward the table, her arms straining under the weight.
Ethan stood immediately. "Whoa, let me help—"
"I'm fine."
"Soph, that's like ten bags—"
"I said I'm fine."
She set the bags down on an empty chair, her breathing slightly uneven.
Jane watched her, concern flickering in her expression. "Sophia, are you okay?"
"Perfectly fine." Sophia's smile was brittle. "Just picking up lunch. Like I said."
Ethan crossed his arms, studying her. "You know, if you wanted to join us, you could've just said so. You didn't have to order half the menu."
Sophia's jaw tightened. "I wasn't trying to join you. I was getting food for my team."
"Right. Your team of... twenty people?"
"Ethan—"
"Because that's a lot of food, Soph. Almost like you were stalling."
Sophia's eyes flashed. "I wasn't stalling."
"No?" Ethan tilted his head. "Then why are you still here?"
The question hung in the air.
Sophia opened her mouth. Closed it.
She didn't have an answer.
Or rather, she did—but she couldn't say it.
Not here. Not like this.
"I should go," she said finally, her voice hollow. "Enjoy your lunch."
She grabbed the bags, struggling slightly under the weight, and walked toward the exit.
Jane stood. "Sophia, wait—"
But Sophia was already gone.
Sophia sat in her car, the bags of food piled in the passenger seat, her hands gripping the steering wheel.
She stared at the restaurant through the windshield.
Inside, Ethan and Jane were still sitting together.
Talking. Laughing.
And Sophia was out here.
Alone.
She closed her eyes, her chest tight.
What are you doing to me, Jane?
She started the car.
Drove back to the hospital.
Unloaded the bags in the break room, where the staff looked at her in confusion.
"Dr. Whitmore, this is... a lot of food."
"I know," Sophia said curtly. "Just eat it."
Then she went back to her office, closed the door, and sat at her desk.
Staring at nothing.
Feeling everything.
Back at the restaurant, Ethan leaned back in his chair, grinning.
"Well," he said. "That went well."
Jane looked at him, her expression conflicted. "She looked miserable."
"Good. That means it's working."
"Ethan—"
"Jane." His tone was gentle now. "She needs to feel this. She needs to realize what she's about to lose. Otherwise, she'll never say it."
Jane looked down at her hands. "And if she doesn't? What if she just... walks away?"
Ethan's smile softened. "She won't. Trust me. My sister's stubborn, but she's not stupid."
Jane wanted to believe him.
But watching Sophia leave watching the pain in her eyes made Jane's chest ache.
"How much longer?" Jane asked quietly.
"Not much." Ethan's voice was confident. "She's close. I can feel it."
Jane nodded.
And hoped he was right.