Rose

Today drained me.

Clinicals were chaos—one patient after another, no time to breathe, no time to think. I love this career, I really do, but some days squeeze the life out of me. The kind that make me pause. Just for a second. Just long enough to wonder if I'll survive the life I signed up for.

David texted earlier.

I'm outside.

No calls. No extra words. Just that.

I hadn't expected him back today. Honestly, I needed a quiet night. Maybe stop by Keisha's later. But instead, I found myself heading to his car, parked away from the entrance, away from curious eyes.

Nobody knows about us. Aside from Keisha. His choice. "I'm just being careful," he says. Until we tie the knot, at least.

And a small part of me is relieved.

Because sometimes, I feel embarrassed.

David is attractive. Fit. Takes care of himself. But silver strands lace his hair, a stark reminder of the thirty-seven-year gap between us. And in the public's eyes, that's all they'd ever see.

It ain't freezing yet, but you can feel it creeping in. The city's starting to smell like roasted peanuts and wind. I tug my hoodie tighter as I slide into the car, exhaling as I lean back against the seat.

"You look stressed." His gaze lingers.

"Long day," I murmur, shutting my eyes.

A rustle from the backseat. Then something lands on my lap. A small black box.

"Open it," he says.

I barely acknowledge it, my mind still stuck in the ward. The moment we lost that patient. Fatal accident. We did everything. Nothing worked. The room had gone silent in an instant.

Then my mind drifts.

Kendrick.

He didn't show up the next day. Or the next. And yeah, I was mad. At least now I know how it feels, to be on the receiving end. The waiting. The silence stretching into days. It's been three now.

Does Keisha even know about the secret doors? What else is hidden in that house? Would he ever come back to the library after seeing the ring?

Could he have feelings for me?

The thought makes me snort. Yeah, right.

This is Keisha's fault. I didn't even want to wear it.

She's better now, and the only excuse I have left to go into that library is to need one of those medical textbooks.

You seem to have forgotten everything you saw and read about him.

I press my fingers against my temple. Before anything else, I'm human. It's normal to care about someone's well-being.

A snap of fingers in front of my face.

David.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said you know you don't have to work, right?"

"David, not today."

"I just don't want you aging too fast."

"There are plenty of doctors who age just fine."

"Okay." He raises his hands in surrender. "You still haven't opened the gift."

I exhale, flicking open the lid.

A red dress. Black stilettos. The neckline plunges dangerously low, tiny stones outlining the deep V.

"I didn't like the dress you wore at that event," he says.

You know how I said David was a good man? I lied. Well, not exactly. He is good, in his own way. But he's also selfish. Controlling.

The dress he's referring to? It wasn't even inappropriate. It was elegant. Subtle. Perfect for the small, low-key dinner my consultant hosted for his wedding anniversary.

Not like it was some kind of gala night.

But David? He always wants me in something that shows more skin. Hair down. Makeup flawless. Let's not even start on the endless boxes of skincare products he insists I use.

I just want to be a normal girl. Sunscreen. The basics. A simple two-inch heel. Not these pain-inducing stilettos he keeps gifting me.

Did he even hear that I had a hectic day?

"Okay, I'll wear this. Or one of the others you got me."

"Good. How's Keisha? You seem to be at her place a lot lately." His tone shifts.

"She relapsed because she didn't get the drugs on time. I had to help her out."

"Sorry, I was swamped with meetings."

"It's fine. Thanks for all you do." I place a hand over his.

His fingers tighten around mine. "You know I love you. And I'll do anything for you. Just be a good girl and do as I say."

I swallow the cringe. "Sure. Love you too."

A pause. Then—

"Anyway, any new admirers today?" he jokes.

He's seen them before. The ones who linger a little too long, who find excuses to talk to me after class or at the end of clinicals.

Then, casually, too casually, he adds, "I saw Josh."

My stomach clenches. Can we just leave the past where it belongs?

Josh.

A classmate. And... a genuinely good guy.

He has this way of checking in without making a big deal out of it. Never overstepping, never prying—just enough to remind me that someone out there sees me. Sees beyond my looks, beyond the exhaustion, the deadlines, the expectations.

That day, I had barely started feeling like myself again when he showed up with white roses and a huge teddy bear, Get Well Soon scrawled across the card tucked between the petals.

He didn't stay long. Just asked how I was doing, teased me a little, made me laugh. A moment of warmth in the middle of everything.

Then he left.

And minutes later, David arrived.

I remember standing at the door, watching as his car slowed to a stop. The way his hands curled around the steering wheel. His gaze locked on something, or rather, someone.

Josh.

David didn't get out right away. Just sat there, watching him drive down the street, his expression unreadable.

Then, finally, he stepped inside.

And saw them.

The roses. The teddy bear. The card.

I barely had time to process the shift in his expression before his voice cut through the air.

"Trash it. Now."

I blinked. "What?"

He didn't repeat himself. Just stood there, waiting, expectant.

My fingers curled around the stems, my heart sinking as I carried the bouquet and teddy bear to the bin. The petals were soft against my skin, the scent still fresh. Josh had put thought into this.

And David didn't even ask.

Didn't even care.

Just—trash it.

I should've said something. Pushed back, even just a little. But instead, I watched it all disappear. The roses, the teddy bear, the warmth that had lingered in the air only moments ago.

All because David decided it shouldn't exist.

Now, sitting beside him in the car, I barely hear the words he's saying. Something about Josh being on the same shift as me. Something about me being careful.

But my mind is elsewhere.

Welcome to a glimpse of my life with him.

Interrogations. Orders. Gifting. Splurging. And repeat. Oh, and in-house dinners where I show up wrapped in dresses I can barely breathe in.

The rest of the drive is a blur of business calls, his voice fading into the background as I curl up in the seat, plugging my earbuds, shutting it all out. Drowning in the what ifs.

What if he hadn't stepped in?

What if he hadn't saved us?

Would it have been worse? Better?

It doesn't matter. Because in the end, this, the life he gave us, outweighs any flaw he may have. He didn't have to help. But he did.