THE SIEGE OF STERLING HOSPITAL
If Dr. Fay Sterling thought a few harsh words would exorcise Kei from her life, she had severely underestimated the woman's stubbornness. To Kei, "get out of my life" was merely a starting negotiation.
The next morning,
When Fay arrived for her 7:00 AM rounds, she didn't find the usual room silence. Instead, the scent of expensive Arabica beans and fresh-baked almond croissants wafted through the surgical floor. In the center of the break room sat a sprawling spread that looked more like a five-star hotel brunch than a hospital snack.
A small card was propped against a silver carafe:
I heard the cafeteria coffee tastes like battery acid. Enjoy. -K.
Fay didn't even pause. She swept her arm across the table, sliding the card into the trash bin without breaking her stride. "Dispose of all this," she commanded her intern. "It's a distraction and a hygiene risk."
"But Dr. Sterling," the intern stammered, eyeing a gold-flaked macaron, "it's from the 'Midnight Bakery.' You have to wait months for a reservation there!"
"Trash. Now," Fay snapped, her voice like a whip.
THE MID-DAY AMBUSH
By noon, Fay was exhausted. A four-hour work had left her neck stiff and her temper short. As she retreated to her private office to finish charts, she found the door blocked.
There was Kei, wearing a vibrant yellow shirt that looked ridiculously out of place against the hospital's sea of blue scrubs. She was holding a professional-grade handheld massager and a bottle of high-end tension-relief oil.
"You're late for your massage," Kei said brightly, leaning against the doorframe.
Fay halted, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "Security is exactly sixty seconds away from dragging you out of here, Kei."
"Then I have fifty-nine seconds to tell you that your left shoulder is hitched higher than your right," Kei countered, stepping forward. "You're holding your breath again. You always did that when you were stressed."
"Don't act like you know me," Fay hissed, her voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and fury. "The person who knew my habits stayed behind ten years ago. You're just a stranger with a pretty face and a lot of nerve."
Kei's smile didn't falter, though her eyes softened with a bittersweet pang. She reached out, her fingers ghosting near Fay's temple. "Then let me introduce myself again. Hi, I'm Kei. I'm the woman who's going to make you lunch every day until you stop looking at me like I'm a ghost and start looking at me like I'm yours."
Fay recoiled as if burned. "You are delusional. I hate you. Every time I see your face, I remember why I stopped believing in promises."
"Good," Kei whispered, undeterred. "Hate is loud. Hate is passionate. It's a lot better than the silence you gave me in the elevator."
THUD
Fay slammed her office door in Kei's face. It echoed down the hall, but through the wood, she could still hear Kei's muffled voice: "I'll be back at five with the car warmed up!"
THE FINAL STAND
At 5:00 PM, Fay exited the main lobby, her bag slung over her shoulder. She was prepared for a fight. She was prepared for more flowers. She was even prepared for Kei to be waiting with a megaphone.
What she wasn't prepared for was the sight of Kei sitting on a bench, looking uncharacteristically small.
Kei was holding a single, crumpled paper bag. As Fay approached, Kei stood up, her usual bravado replaced by a quiet, weary persistence. She didn't say a word. She simply held out the bag. Inside was a single, warm sweet potato a snack they used to share during their university days.
Fay looked at the bag, then at Kei's hopeful, tired eyes. For a split second, the ice cracked. The "Enemies" mask slipped, revealing the "Lover" who had been mourning for a decade.
Then, the elevator's words echoed in Fay's mind 'Because of pride'.
Fay reached out, took the bag and without taking a single bite dropped it into the nearest bin as she walked past.
"Stop trying, Kei," Fay said, her voice devoid of emotion. "You can't buy back ten years with a sweet potato."
She kept walking, her heart screaming one thing while her head dictated another. Behind her, Kei stood up, her shadow long and lonely against the floor.
Kei took a deep breath, adjusted her clothes and pulled out her phone. "Note to self," she murmured, her voice cracking slightly but still determined. "She hates sweet potatoes now. Tomorrow… we try the handmade bento."