NICK
I didn't yell. I didn't have to. I took him apart. I used my words like a blade, cutting through every assumption he had about his own intelligence.
I laid out his failure in cold, simple terms, stripping away his pride until there was nothing left but the sound of the heart monitor.
It wasn't personal. It was worse. It was a complete deconstruction of his worth as a doctor, delivered without a single flicker of emotion on my face.
The room stayed silent for a long time. No one breathed.
Harlow didn't say a word. He just stared at the floor.
I continued the surgery as if nothing had happened. Because for me, it hadn't. I was a professional.
But thirty seconds later, the realization hit me. I had overreacted. By my own standards, I had used a sledgehammer to kill a fly. I understood it and redirected the anger back inward.
Lila called me four times before noon. I watched the screen glow on the desk, her name flashing like a warning light.
