Saturday evening's tension lingered in the air long after we stepped into Huang Group.
The building was nearly empty, the overhead lights dimmed, marble floors reflecting our footsteps as they echoed through the lobby.
Harley walked ahead of me without looking back. His shoulders were squared, posture rigid.
When we reached his office, he pushed the door open and stepped aside for me to enter first.
I walked in slowly, the familiar scent of leather and cedar wrapping around me, floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the city skyline glowing beneath us.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Harley walked over to his desk. Instead of sitting down, he leaned against the front of it, arms crossed, staring at me.
I stared back at him. "Did you bring me back here just to stare at me?"
"Why are you entertaining Dylan?" he asked, calm and collected.
My mouth dropped open — not because of the rude question, but because it finally all made sense. Back in high school, whenever I showed the slightest interest in the opposite sex, Harley would somehow know and successfully talk me out of it.
After regaining my composure, I said, "You don't get to decide who I entertain."
"He's not serious."
Neither am I.
I walked toward him and stopped a foot away, crossing my arms. "Look, Harley, you really need to stop interfering in my personal life. I can take care of myself."
His eyes flickered briefly. "So I should sit back and watch you get hurt by him?"
I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "I'm not interested in Dylan like that."
Harley uncrossed his arms and stood up straight, both hands sliding into his pant pockets. A small smile graced his lips as he walked past me and sat down in his chair.
"Are you adjusting at the hospital?" he asked, glancing through the stack of papers on his desk.
I blinked.
My heels echoed softly against the marble floor as I walked past him toward the floor-to-ceiling window. The view was breathtaking.
"Work is going well," I said. "I love what I do. I'm happy I get to help people who need it."
He paused, eyes lifting from the papers. "As long as you're happy."
Silence filled the room.
I stared at my reflection in the glass. "Remember how we used to talk about when you'd take over the company and I'd be your secretary?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
"Yes."
I turned around to face him, leaning lightly against the window. "Look, Harley… I know I hurt you. But I don't want any more tension between us."
He pushed back his chair and stood.
When he looked at me, something close to longing flickered in his eyes before it disappeared. He exhaled slowly.
"Let's go home," he said, walking toward the door.
I followed after him.
The hospital floor was nothing like the quiet tension of Huang Group. Phones rang nonstop, monitors beeped in overlapping rhythms, and nurses moved briskly between rooms with clipped urgency.
"Dr. Huo," a nurse called out, approaching me with a chart in hand. "Room 317 is complaining of chest tightness. Vitals are unstable."
I didn't rush.
"Has an ECG been done?" I asked calmly.
"Not yet."
"Prep the machine. I'll see him now."
Inside the room, the patient was pale, clutching his chest while his wife hovered anxiously beside him.
"It feels worse," he said, voice strained.
I stepped closer to the bed. "Take slow breaths for me. We're going to run a quick test."
The nurse moved efficiently once I gave instructions. I reviewed the monitor, scanning the readings carefully instead of reacting to the panic in the room.
"His blood pressure is spiking," the nurse whispered.
"Adjust the oxygen and monitor his rhythm," I replied evenly. "It's not a heart attack."
The patient's wife stared at me. "It's not?"
"It's anxiety-induced tachycardia," I explained. "We'll stabilize him."
Within minutes, the tension in the room began to dissolve. His breathing slowed. The colour gradually returned to his face.
"Thank you, doctor," the wife said softly, relief washing over her features.
I gave a small nod. "He'll be fine. We'll keep him under observation for a few hours."
Outside the room, the nurse exhaled. "I thought it was serious."
"It could have escalated," I replied. "But panic makes it worse. Stay steady."
She nodded quickly.
The rest of the shift flowed smoothly. There were small issues, minor complications, but nothing overwhelming. Each situation was handled with steady hands and measured decisions.
By the time I removed my coat and stepped outside, exhaustion lingered in my muscles — but so did something else. Fulfillment. This was where I belonged.
A surprised smile graced my lips when I spotted Harley leaning against his car, smoking.
I didn't remember when he started smoking, and I certainly didn't condone it, but I couldn't help admiring how attractive he looked under the dim streetlights.
I shook the thought out of my head and walked over. "What are you doing here?"
He took one last puff before flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath his shoe. Then he looked at me.
Blank.
Why does he keep doing that? It's so damn uncomfortable.
"What?" I asked.
"Are you hungry?"
Before I could answer, my stomach grumbled loudly. Heat rushed to my cheeks in embarrassment. It had been a busy day, and I barely had time to finish my apple.
Well, if I was being honest, I had enough time this morning to prepare something. I just never seemed to find the time to sit down and eat it. It always ended up in the trash.
Maybe I'd try the cafeteria next time. I'd overheard some of the nurses saying the food quality had improved lately.
I nodded and opened the passenger door, climbing in.
Moments later, Harley slid into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life, smooth and powerful, before we pulled away from the curb.
I stared out the window as the city lights blurred past.
Changes were happening.
Slowly.
But surely.