Chapter Ten: Hearts Under Pressure

Iris didn’t realize how exhausted she was until she stepped into her grandmother’s small apartment.

The scent of ginger tea and something warm simmering on the stove wrapped around her instantly, loosening the tight knot in her chest. For a moment, she just stood there, bag slipping from her shoulder, the weight of the hospital finally crashing down on her.

“You’re home late,” her grandmother said gently, emerging from the kitchen with concern etched into her face.

Iris tried to smile. It failed.

That was all it took.

Her grandmother crossed the room in three quick steps and pulled Iris into her arms. The dam broke immediately. Iris’s breath hitched, then shattered as quiet sobs tore free.

“Oh, my child,” her grandmother murmured, rubbing her back. “What did they do to you today?”

Iris didn’t answer at first. She couldn’t. The words felt too heavy, too tangled. When she finally pulled back, her eyes were red, her lashes wet.

“They don’t want me there,” she whispered. “They make things hard on purpose. They look at me like I don’t belong.”

Her grandmother cupped her face, thumbs brushing away tears. “Do you believe you belong?”

“Yes,” Iris said without hesitation. “I worked for this. I chose this. For you… for everything.”

Her grandmother smiled softly, eyes shining. “Then let them talk. Let them test you. Pressure reveals the strongest hearts.”

Iris laughed weakly. “You always make it sound poetic.”

“It is poetic,” her grandmother replied. “Life, medicine, love… they all require endurance.”

Iris stilled. “Love?”

Her grandmother’s gaze sharpened slightly. “There’s something else.”

Iris hesitated, then nodded. “My supervisor. Doctor Hale.”

The name tasted dangerous on her tongue.

“He’s… kind,” Iris said carefully. “Protective. But complicated.”

Her grandmother sighed knowingly. “Be careful with men who carry storms inside them.”

“I am,” Iris whispered. “I promise.”

Across town, Nathaniel Hale stood in the hospital boardroom, jaw clenched, hands braced on the polished table.

The complaint sat in front of him like a loaded weapon.

Formal misconduct allegation. Favoritism. Inappropriate behavior.

His eyes burned as he read Iris’s name.

“This is serious,” one of the board members said. “A trainee accusing the department of bias creates liability.”

“She didn’t file this,” Nathaniel snapped.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know her,” he replied sharply. “And because this reeks of manipulation.”

Silence fell.

“The optics aren’t good,” another board member said. “Your personal relationship with Selena—”

“There is no personal relationship,” Nathaniel cut in coldly.

The room shifted.

“Doctor Hale,” the chairman said carefully, “until this is investigated, Iris Moore will be reassigned. No direct contact. No supervision under you.”

Nathaniel’s chest tightened. “You’re punishing her for something she didn’t do.”

“We’re protecting the hospital.”

Nathaniel pushed back from the table. “Then protect it properly.”

He left before they could respond.

The next morning, Iris arrived at the hospital unaware that the ground beneath her feet had already cracked.

She was stopped at the front desk.

“You’ve been reassigned,” the clerk said flatly. “Different department. Effective immediately.”

Iris’s heart sank. “Why?”

“Orders.”

She turned just as Nathaniel appeared at the end of the corridor. Their eyes met.

Everything else disappeared.

He crossed the distance quickly, his expression dark with restrained fury. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she replied, though her voice trembled. “But they don’t care.”

He lowered his voice. “I tried to stop this.”

Her chest ached. “I don’t want special treatment.”

“I’m not giving you that,” he said. “I’m trying to protect you.”

The words settled between them, heavy and intimate.

“I don’t need protection,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he replied softly, “you do. From this place. From me.”

Her breath caught.

They stood too close. The air crackled. His gaze dropped to her lips again, lingered a fraction too long. Iris felt it—the pull, the dangerous urge to step closer, to forget the rules, the consequences.

“Nathaniel…” she breathed.

He inhaled sharply, hands curling into fists at his sides. “This is exactly why we can’t.”

“But you feel it too,” she said, barely audible.

He didn’t deny it.

Instead, he stepped back abruptly. “Go home today.”

Her heart broke a little. “Okay.”

She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.

“Iris,” he said, raw now. “This isn’t over.”

She nodded, holding back tears.

As she walked away, Selena watched from the upper floor, phone pressed to her ear, a satisfied smile curling her lips.

“Yes,” Selena murmured. “Phase one worked.”