Heartbeat 1

I’ve always believed that medicine was more than just a profession. It’s a calling—a responsibility to those who trust us with their lives. But somewhere along the way, I realized that my own life had become a series of calculated decisions, each one made with the singular purpose of mastering my craft. I’d trained for this. I’d sacrificed for this. There was no room for anything else—no time for love, no space for relationships. My patients were my focus, my priority. Always.

“Olivia, there you are.”

I looked up from my notes, catching sight of Dr. Adrian Wu standing in the doorway of the cardiology break room. He had an easy smile, the kind that made most people feel like they had known him for years after just a few minutes of conversation. I supposed that was why his patients adored him—he had that rare gift of empathy, the kind that could put someone at ease even in the face of a life-threatening condition.

“Good morning, Adrian,” I replied, my tone neutral, but polite. He was one of the few colleagues I actually respected. In the hospital, that was saying something. “I was just reviewing Reynolds’ charts again. His clotting disorder is presenting complications. We’ll need to adjust his anticoagulant therapy.”

Adrian nodded, his brow furrowed. “I saw that. He’s a tough case. You’ve got your hands full, don’t you?”

I set my papers down on the counter, pausing for a moment. “I’ve handled tougher,” I replied, my voice steady. I meant it, too. The medical field was full of surprises—twists, turns, challenges that tested every ounce of knowledge, skill, and willpower you had. But none of that scared me. It never had. There was no room for fear in this work, and there certainly wasn’t time for distractions.

Adrian tilted his head, looking at me with that same concerned expression he always wore when he thought I was pushing myself too hard. He’d been trying to get me to take more time off, something he seemed to believe was necessary for my well-being. I didn’t quite understand why. I was fine. The work was fulfilling, the long hours worth it. What else did I need?

“You need a break, Olivia. Seriously.” His tone wasn’t demanding, but there was an edge of concern in it. “I get it—Reynolds is a difficult case, but you’ve been working nonstop. You’re at your best when you’re well-rested. And when was the last time you had a proper dinner or did anything outside of this hospital?”

I didn’t respond immediately. It wasn’t like I didn’t understand what he was saying—after all, it was hard to ignore the growing pile of missed calls and texts from family, friends, and even a few old acquaintances. But those distractions didn’t matter to me. I didn’t need the noise. I needed results. I needed to save lives.

“I’m fine, Adrian,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “This is what I do. This is what I’m good at. And it’s enough for me.”

Adrian’s expression softened, but I could see he wasn’t entirely convinced. He stepped into the room, leaning against the counter beside me. “You can’t pour from an empty cup, Liv. You can’t keep going like this.”

I sighed, feeling a wave of frustration rise in my chest. I hated the way he made it sound like I was falling apart. I wasn’t. I was just focused. Single-minded. Efficient. My career had always been my priority, and I had never regretted it. Not once.

“I don’t need to take a break,” I said, meeting his gaze with a quiet resolve. “The patients are my priority. Their lives depend on me.”

There was a brief pause before he spoke again. “And what about you, Liv? What about your life? Are you really telling me that you’re happy, just...working?”

I didn’t answer immediately. I didn’t need to. There was no need to explain my choices. I had made them years ago when I decided to leave behind a normal life to pursue something greater. Relationships, feelings—they were luxuries I simply couldn’t afford. I had seen what those things did to people. The way they made you vulnerable. I wasn’t interested in letting anyone in.

Before I could say anything else, Dr. Vanessa Thompson entered the room. She was new to the cardiology team—fresh out of residency and eager to prove herself. Unlike Adrian, who was laid-back and approachable, Vanessa had a fire about her. She was warm, compassionate—everything I wasn’t, at least in the traditional sense. I had been told by several of the nurses that she had a gift for connecting with patients, for making them feel like they were more than just cases on a chart. She had that natural empathy that I had never been able to master.

“Good morning,” she greeted both of us with a smile, her voice light and cheerful. “Did you get a chance to look at Reynolds’ latest labs?”

I nodded. “I did. We’ll need to adjust his dosage. His INR is fluctuating too much with the current regimen.”

Vanessa pursed her lips, her brows knitting slightly in thought. “I’ve noticed that, too. But...have you thought about what we discussed the other day? Maybe he needs a more holistic approach. We could incorporate stress reduction techniques. I’ve read some studies showing that heart patients benefit from therapy, relaxation techniques, even guided meditation. It can’t hurt to explore other options, right?”

I glanced at her, my face impassive. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the suggestion. Stress reduction? Meditation? These were things I associated more with alternative medicine than with the cutting-edge, evidence-based treatments I had spent my entire career perfecting. I knew the importance of mental health, but in my experience, a heart needed a surgeon’s steady hands and a cardiologist’s expertise, not a yoga session.

“I don’t disagree with you, Vanessa,” I said carefully. “But this is a delicate case. We need to focus on the medical treatment first.”

Adrian watched us, his arms crossed, and for a moment, I could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. He knew me well enough to know I didn’t quite share Vanessa’s perspective on patient care. Empathy was important, yes, but I had always believed in results, in tangible progress. Love and compassion had their place in the world, but I had never thought they had much to do with medicine. And especially not with my work.

Vanessa smiled again, seemingly unbothered by my reluctance. “I get it. You’re all about results. But sometimes, it’s not just about the medicine. We have to look at the whole person.”

Her words lingered in the air, and for a moment, I wondered if she was trying to remind me of something I had long ago pushed aside—the idea that people needed more than just their physical ailments treated. That they needed connection, support, maybe even love.

But that wasn’t my world. I had made sure of that. I was a cardiologist because it gave me control—control over life and death, over problems that could be solved with skill, knowledge, and precision. Love? Relationships? Those were messy, uncontrollable variables. They didn’t belong in my world.

“Thanks for the input, Vanessa,” I said curtly, standing up. “I’ll let you know if I decide to incorporate any of those suggestions into my treatment plan.”

Adrian shot me a look, but I could tell he knew better than to push me further. I had made my decision, and nothing, not even the most well-meaning suggestions, would change that. Medicine was my one true focus. It always had been. And that was the way it was going to stay.

As I walked out of the break room, I didn’t look back. My mind was already on Reynolds, on the next patient, on the next challenge. There was no time to dwell on anything else.

There never had been.