Blurb：
After reconciling with Liam, I changed. No more clingy calls, no more waiting up. But when Dr. Liam Evans came home drunk from a department dinner, his anger shocked me. “Why didn’t you call? Everyone’s partners did—except you!” He accused me of being different, of not caring like before. I softly reminded him, “But you said my calls were annoying.” The memory of our last fight flooded back—Hannah the intern, her mocking voice, Liam’s humiliation. Now he wants the old me back, but can he handle the truth about his own actions? Explore this emotional second-chance romance where love, regret, and growth collide. Will Liam realize his mistakes before it’s too late?
Content：
After getting back together with Liam, I stopped clinging to him the way I used to.
He came home late one night after a department dinner, his face dark as he confronted me:
“Do you have any idea how long I waited for your call?
“Everyone else’s girlfriend or wife called! Everyone! Except you. You weren’t like this before—”
I cut him off softly:
“But… didn’t you say that was annoying?”
He froze.
Liam came home when I was already asleep.
He stumbled through the bedroom door, drunk. I jolted awake just as he flicked on the overhead light. The sudden brightness forced me to squeeze my eyes shut.
His overcoat landed in a heap on the floor. The smell of alcohol clung to him, his expression stormy.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
I was confused. “What?”
His brows furrowed, anger mixed with something indefinable – almost hurt.
“I said, I was out for dinner tonight, and you didn’t call me!
“Every other guy there got calls from their partners. The whole table! I was waiting for your call until midnight!”
He grew more agitated, chest heaving, as he yanked his tie loose.
“You weren’t like this before. Every time I went out, you’d call by 9 PM, telling me to drink less, come home early. You’d ask who I was with, if there were any women. This time… you didn’t ask anything.”
He pointed at the sleep mask I still wore on my forehead. “And before, you wouldn’t sleep until I was home. Now? You didn’t even leave a single light on for me. The whole place was pitch black when I got back. I—”
I looked at him and interrupted softly.
“But, wasn’t that what you said was annoying?”
Liam’s voice cut off abruptly, words catching in his throat.
I lowered my gaze. “Last time I picked you up… remember? You told me, to my face, that I was annoying, that I should stop smothering you.”
…
The issue of calling him during dinners had caused several fights before our previous breakup.
Several younger nurses in his department clearly had crushes on him. I’d personally walked in on little scenes – like nurses bringing him homemade lunches – more than once. Especially recently, with that intern, his junior, Hannah. They got along well. I admit, I felt insecure. That’s why I couldn’t help questioning him.
Plus, his stomach was bad. Too much alcohol meant days of pain. I always worried he’d overdo it, couldn’t help but call to remind him.
The last big fight before we broke up was exactly over a department dinner. I couldn’t resist calling at 9 PM.
It took him ages to answer. Liam’s impatient voice came down the line:
“What now?”
I said carefully, “Your stomach was hurting just the other day. Try not to drink too much.”
I heard a girl’s laugh in the background:
“Don’t worry, Olivia! I’ll make sure Liam behaves!” Hannah’s voice chirped.
I paused, about to ask Liam why he’d said no women were coming tonight, when he abruptly hung up.
By midnight, he still wasn’t back. Calling again went straight to voicemail.
Worried something had happened, I drove to their usual spot.
Getting out of my car, I saw Liam standing under a streetlight, looking perfectly sober, draping his jacket over the shoulders of a young woman opposite him.
Hannah.
His colleagues spotted me and started ribbing him.
“Someone’s got a strict keeper!”
“Hah! New lovebirds. My wife would be dead asleep by now, couldn’t care less.”
“Lucky man, Dr. Evans.”
Liam’s face darkened with each comment.
Hannah, her hair neatly pinned, looking sharp and pretty, adjusted the jacket and nudged Liam playfully.
“Wow, Liam. Does Olivia manage your schedule like she’s your mom? Calling andshowing up?” She turned to me, a sweet smile plastered on. “Olivia, seriously, guys need breathing room too. Holding on too tight just pushes them away faster. Liam’s crazy busy as it is. All this pressure isn’t good for him, right?”
“Don’t bother explaining. She wouldn’t get it.” Liam opened the passenger door for Hannah. “Get in. I’ll drop you home.”
He didn’t look at me again, walking straight past me to the driver’s side.
Hannah rolled down her window, waving. “Bye, Olivia! Thanks for the lift!”
I stood alone in the cold wind, watching their car disappear around the corner.
One of Liam’s quieter nurses approached me.
“Liam’s probably just stressed, Olivia. Patient load’s been heavy. He’s exhausted. Don’t take it personally.”
The winter wind cut deep.
I pulled my coat tighter. “Yeah.”
Breaking up with Liam wasn’t because of one thing. It was everything.
When I finally made the decision, my friends thought I’d lost my mind.
“You’re breaking up with Liam Evans? What kind of guy areyou looking for then?!”
I understood their confusion.
Liam was, on paper, the perfect boyfriend.
Handsome, wealthy family, brilliant.
He’d sailed through med school and residency, landed a job at one of the best hospitals on the West Coast, became the youngest attending in his department. His future was blindingly bright.
He was generous. Gifts for anniversaries and holidays were luxuries I could never afford to reciprocate. When I complained about my commute after graduation, he bought me a car.
Even my parents said I’d hit the jackpot.
But… I always felt he didn’t love me. He loved the ideaof having a girlfriend. He was fulfilling a role. Whoever held the title would have received the same treatment.
I felt invisible.
He didn’t care about my feelings, my highs or lows. He actively discouraged me from relying on him. His constant refrain was that I needed to be more independent.
Over the years, buried in studies and work, we barely dated. I ate alone, watched movies alone, celebrated birthdays alone, kept the home fires burning alone, waiting for him to come back.
He didn’t love me.
I had a boyfriend, yet felt lonelier than when I was single.
I couldn’t live like that anymore.
Breaking up was easier than I expected. When I called Liam to say we needed to talk, he just grunted an “Okay” before hanging up.
I didn’t expect him to show up at my door three months later, drunk.
Loving him was a habit. We ended up tangled together, confused, and just as confusedly, got back together.
But after that, I kept remembering his words. I tried hard to be independent.
Now, he was asking why I didn’tcall?
…
Liam clearly remembered that fight too. He opened his mouth…
“That time, I—”
I looked down. “I’m tired, Liam. Let’s just sleep.”
Before, I would have argued. I might have yelled. I’d have spent the night crying.
Now? I just felt empty.
Exhausted. I couldn’t be bothered.
Liam’s light brown eyes, behind his frameless glasses, flickered. He pressed a hand to his stomach.
“My stomach’s killing me. Can you make me some soup?”
I used to make him soup whenever he drank. Something warm always helped settle his stomach.
But now, that instinctive concern was gone, replaced only by the irritation of being woken up.
I pulled the covers up, turning my back to him.
“There’s instant ramen in the pantry. Make it yourself.
“Close the door on your way out. I have work tomorrow.”
Silence hung heavy behind me.
After a long moment, the bed shifted as Liam stood up.
His footsteps, heavier than usual, faded down the hall. The door clicked softly shut.
Darkness reclaimed the room.
I closed my eyes.
When I woke the next morning, Liam was gone.
The ashtray on the coffee table overflowed with cigarette butts.
He hadn’t slept.
I looked away. Didn’t ask.
…
I only realized I needed the hospital after days of low-grade fever and a worsening cough.
Dragging myself in, I was diagnosed with pneumonia.
Heading to the IV room, I bumped into one of Liam’s nurses.
She took one look at me. “Olivia? You okay? You look terrible!”
“Pneumonia,” I managed a weak smile. “Just heading for an IV.”
“You came alone?” She sounded surprised. “Why didn’t you tell Liam? He could’ve come with you.”
I paused. “He’s busy. It’s fine. Didn’t want to bother him.”
“Well… okay. Let me know if you need anything!”
“Thanks.”
I found a chair in the busy IV room.
The fluid entering my vein felt cold. Winter was brutal.
A young couple sat nearby. The girl was getting an IV; the boy carefully tucked his jacket around her shoulders, letting her lean on him to sleep. When she drifted off, he gently held the IV tube, warming the fluid with his palm.
I leaned back on the hard plastic chair. Exhaustion must have won; I fell asleep despite the discomfort.
Half-dreaming, I drifted back to before Liam and I broke up.
I was still clinging then. Once, I had a nasty bout of gastroenteritis – vomiting, cramps, the works. I ended up in the ER.
They hooked me up to an IV. I begged Liam to stay with me.
“I feel awful. Please, just for a little while? Please?”
Liam just gave me a detached look. “Gastroenteritis won’t kill you. Don’t be so dramatic. I have actual patients waiting.”
I started to say something, but Hannah walked in.
She spotted Liam and immediately grabbed his arm.
“Liam! There you are! Mr. Peterson in 304? His symptoms are weird. I’m scared Dr. Harrison will chew me out. Can you please come look? Please?” Her voice was pure syrup.
Liam’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.
“What’s going on? Don’t panic. I’ll come see.”
He glanced back at me.
I thought he might at least say something.
“Just go home after the drip,” he said flatly. “I’m busy. Won’t be able to check on you.”
I watched him walk out with Hannah.
At the door, Hannah looked back.
Her smile was pure challenge, laced with triumph.
Gastroenteritis was agony. Midway through the IV, I felt violently nauseous. I called a nurse to unhook me and stumbled to the bathroom, retching until my ribs ached.
Afterwards, I stood at the sink, gripping the counter, staring at the ghost in the mirror.
Pale. Hollow.
Blood welled from the needle site on my hand. I hadn’t pressed down. A dark stain bloomed on my shirt.
Utterly pathetic.
After that, I never told Liam when I was sick.
Something soft settled over me in my half-sleep. I opened my eyes.
Liam stood there, frowning.
“You’re sick. Why didn’t you tell me?”
The IV bag was almost empty. I pushed the coat – hiscoat – off me. “It’s nothing serious. I know you’re busy.”
“I’m not thatbusy. You should have—”
His hand, reaching to steady my arm, froze mid-air.
I knew. He remembered.
“Liam! I’ve got a solo procedure coming up, I really need a hand—” Hannah breezed in, stopping short when she saw me. Her smile was bright, practiced. “Olivia! Hey! What’s wrong? Should’ve told us you were coming!”
I ignored her, speaking flatly to Liam.
“I’ll head out then.”
“I’ll drive you.” He grabbed my arm, turning to Hannah without missing a beat. “Can’t. Find someone else.” His tone was ice-cold. Unrecognizable.
I was startled.
Had they fallen out?
Didn’t care enough to ask.
“Don’t bother,” I pulled my arm free. “Go back to work.”
He stood rigid.
I walked away.
The next morning, I woke to the acrid smell of something burning.
Stumbling out, bleary-eyed, I thought I was dreaming.
Liam stood in the kitchen, an apron askew, engulfed in smoke. He coughed, looking utterly lost holding a spatula.
Seeing me, he flushed.
“I was… trying to make breakfast. Didn’t quite…”
I peered into the pan.
It was impossible to tell what he’d attempted. Mostly charred black lumps that might have been eggs.
He wiped his hands awkwardly on the apron.
“It burned faster than I thought. Looked easy online.”
I frowned, turning the burner down. “You need low heat for eggs. High flame’ll scorch them instantly.”
The hands that held surgical tools with perfect precision fumbled helplessly with a spatula.
Made sense. Liam grew up privileged. Family money meant staff. Cooking wasn’t in his skillset.
“What did you want?” he asked softly, hesitantly. “Should I just order something?”
“No need,” I said, putting the pan in the sink. My eyes caught on the angry red welt blooming on the back of his hand. “Just… don’t do this anymore.”
Liam’s face lit with hope. He held his injured hand out slightly. “It’s okay. You made breakfast every day before. I can learn. Whatever you like. I don’t mind the burn if you—”
I cut him off, irritation sharp. “It’s not about that. I’m rushed in the mornings. I’ll grab something at work.
“You don’t need to do… extra things.”
His outstretched hand froze. A wave of sudden, inexplicable frustration washed over me.
This absurd breakfast scene mirrored my own past absurdity.
Liam’s stomach was a disaster. Skipping breakfast meant guaranteed pain.
I couldn’t cook at first. But to get him to eat, I’d started practicing. Following recipes, burning things, cutting myself – eventually getting decent.
He rarely ate it.
He’d say: “Stop wasting your time. I’m busy. Don’t have time for home-cooked stuff.”
I’d sit alone at the table, eating my portion of the breakfast I’d made for two, then tip his untouched plate into the trash.
That’s why I’d stopped after getting back together.
Now, hewas trying to cook.
Back then, this would have felt like a dream come true. Now, it just annoyed me.
A bitter laugh escaped me. I suddenly understood how Liam must have felt all those years.
Oh. So this is what it feels like when someone you don’t love tries too hard.
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
Had I… stopped loving him?
Staring out the taxi window on the way to work, my mind drifted.
A cloud shaped uncannily like a puppy drifted by.
I instinctively snapped a picture, then froze. Who would I send it to?
I hadn’t shared things like this with Liam in ages. Scrolling up through our chat history, the last message was from him yesterday: Did you get home okay?
I hadn’t replied.
It used to be different.
I used to share everything: a funny dog on the street, a great ice cream, even weird dreams.
He rarely replied. Maybe an “Ok.” if I was lucky.
When I asked why, he’d say: “You think I have nothing better to do? Surgeries pile up. Find a hobby.”
Gradually, I shared less and less.
Now? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sent him something unsolicited.
A wave of confusion washed over me.
I think I really didn’t love Liam anymore.
All that pain, that agony thinking I’d die without him… it could actually fade.
Every time he dismissed my hurt, every time he failed to set boundaries with Hannah, every lonely night I felt unseen – I was quietly breaking the habit.
Until now. The thought of breaking up didn’t bring panic. Just… relief.
I picked up my phone, hesitating.
Two notifications popped up.
?Liam:?? How are you feeling today? If you’re unwell, leave early. I’ll pick you up.
?Henry:?? Little dude wouldn’t take no for an answer.(Photo attached: A long-fingered hand gently scooping a tiny orange kitten off the sidewalk).
I couldn’t help but smile. Catnapping?
His reply was instant. Mom abandoned him. Guess I’m daddy now.
Henry – Henry Rhodes – was the intern I’d trained months ago. Only later did I discover he was the CEO’s only son, here to learn the ropes before eventually taking over. The CEO was strict; Henry had to start at the bottom. I’d nearly had a heart attack when I found out, remembering how freely I’d delegated tasks to him. Instead of firing me, I’d gotten promoted to his Executive Assistant when he took the helm.
Henry had zero CEO airs. He texted constantly. Six messages in one day was his record, sharing everything from memos to memes.
On impulse, I sent him the puppy-cloud photo.
Looks like you.
Immediately, I regretted it. That felt… off. I had a boyfriend. Before I could hit ‘unsend’, his reply flashed up.
? Adopt the kitten too. Package deal. Get a cat AND a dog.
I laughed out loud.
A flicker of guilt surfaced. I wastechnically with someone. This felt inappropriate.
Then I remembered Liam and Hannah.
How Liam’s phone would buzz constantly in the evenings, how sometimes a small smile would touch his lips as he typed.
I’d snooped once. His texts with Hannah weren’t about work.
Hannah complaining about a tough attending.
Hannah telling him about a new ramen place she wanted to try.
Hannah gushing, You were amazing in surgery today, Liam!
I’d confronted him: “Don’t you think that’s inappropriate? Does she know you have a girlfriend? Why does she need to share every little thing? It’s invasive!”
Liam hadn’t looked guilty. Just coldly furious.
“I hate people invading my privacy. Don’t project your jealousy onto me.
“If you can’t handle it, leave.”
…
Looking back, all I remembered was the constant ache.
Having a boyfriend felt lonelier than being alone.
Liam was cold, distant. I felt invisible.
I stared at Liam’s text on my screen. For the first time, a clear thought formed: I should break up with him.
The summer storm hit downtown Seattle with brutal suddenness. Rain lashed against the office windows like it was trying to shatter the glass. Rush hour in the city center was always a nightmare; rain turned it into gridlock hell.
Debating whether to brave the downpour for the bus stop, a hand suddenly landed on my desk.
A coffee cup appeared.
Henry stood there, his expensive black suit jacket unbuttoned, white shirt collar open, tie loose. His model-handsome face broke into a grin, showing perfect teeth.
“Boss? Switched your order to an oat milk London Fog. What’s next on the agenda?” He winked.
My cheeks flushed. During his internship, we’d been casual. I’d jokingly called him ‘boss’ when he fetched coffee, and we’d often grabbed drinks together. Now, the joke was real.
“What are you still doing here?”
“Just wrangled the board. Those fossils turn ‘discussion’ into an endurance sport.” He grabbed my laptop bag. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”
“Oh, no, really,” I protested. “I live way out in Bellevue.”
“Perfect,” he shrugged. “Me too. Totally on my way.”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”
Henry talked non-stop during the drive. He was usually reserved in meetings, but around me, the floodgates opened. My low mood lifted despite myself. He showed me videos of the kitten – now named ‘Pumpkin’ – and we debated names for a fictional dog. Before I knew it, we were pulling up outside my apartment building. The half-hour drive felt like minutes.
Henry grabbed an umbrella and walked me right to the lobby door. I watched his taillights vanish into the rain before turning to head upstairs.
As I turned, bright headlights pinned me.
Liam got out of his car. He hadn’t bothered with an umbrella. Rain plastered his hair to his forehead instantly, soaking his coat.
He strode up to me, face like thunder.
“Who was that?”
“A colleague.” I moved towards the entrance. He grabbed my wrist.
“Why didn’t you answer my texts? Why did you let himdrive you home?!” His eyes were dark, accusing.
I wrenched my arm free. “What texts?”
I checked my phone. His message flashed on the screen: Liv, got held up with an emergency consult. Sit tight, I’ll pick you up after.Sent while I was laughing with Henry in the car. I hadn’t seen it.
“I didn’t see it. And Henry was heading this way anyway. What’s the big deal?”
“What’s going onbetween you? Laughing like that? The way he looked at you—”
I snapped. “Stop being ridiculous! How many times did youdrive Hannah home? How many times did youlaugh with her? Does that mean something was going on?”
“That’s different! I—”
I took a deep breath, the words tumbling out with sudden, shocking clarity. “Liam, this is pointless.
“Let’s break up.”
The rain hammered down. Liam stared, stunned. “What… did you say?”
Saying it aloud felt like shedding a heavy weight. “I said, we’re both miserable. Getting back together was a mistake. We need to end this.”
Liam’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “Because I questioned you about him? Is that it? You’re into him?”
“No. It’s not about Henry.” I looked at him, feeling strangely detached. “I’ve loved you since high school, Liam. Since that day on the basketball court.”
But falling out of love? That seemed to happen in an instant.
I didn’t know the exact moment.
But suddenly, it was just… gone.
“I just don’t love you anymore.
“I know you never loved me either. I chased you all these years. This is better. No more pretending.”
Liam stood frozen. Rain streamed down his face. He stared at me, voice rough. “You… what?”
“I said I don’t love you anymore.”
“Don’t.” Liam laughed, a raw, painful sound. No trace of humor reached his eyes. “Take it back, Olivia. Take it back right now, and I’ll forget you said it.”
“I can’t take it back.” A wave of profound relief washed over me, mixed with sharp regret for ever agreeing to get back together. “Maybe we were never right. Maybe… maybe Hannah is more your speed. You’re similar. We just make each other exhausted.”
“Exhausted?!” Liam grabbed my wrist again, his grip painful, voice grating. “You were the one who chased me! You were the one who said you loved me! Now it’s nothing?! What the hell else do you want from me, Olivia?! I know I screwed up before! I’m trying! Isn’t that enough?! Tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll fix it! Just tell me!”
“Stop,” I yanked my arm free, my voice flat. “Don’t fix anything. We’re just not compatible.”
Liam stood silent behind me.
I started packing.
I hadn’t brought much back after getting back together. Maybe some part of me knew this wasn’t forever.
Dragging my suitcase into the living room, Liam finally seemed to grasp this was real.
He stood in the shadows, voice hollow. “Olivia. You’re really doing this?”
“Yeah,” I said, pulling the suitcase towards the door. “Sorry for wasting your time.”
Liam stood frozen in the doorway of the ER bay, his face a mask of shock that rapidly morphed into pure, incandescent fury. Rain dripped from his hair and coat onto the linoleum floor. His gaze swept from Henry, who was practically pinning me against the vinyl chair back in a tangle of limbs and caught hair, to the phone screen still displaying the photo of me asleep on Henry’s shoulder.
“What the hell is going on here?!” His voice, low and dangerous, cut through the hum of the ER.
I tried to pull back again, wincing as my hair yanked painfully. “Liam, it’s not what it—!”
But he was already moving. In two strides, he grabbed Henry’s shoulder and hauled him backwards with brutal force. My trapped hair ripped free, sending a sharp stab of pain through my scalp. I cried out, clutching my head.
Henry stumbled, catching himself against the IV pole, sending it rocking dangerously. His eyes, wide with surprise a second ago, instantly hardened into chips of ice. He didn’t bother straightening his rumpled shirt or tie. His focus snapped to me, then back to Liam, his voice dropping to a lethal calm. “You’re hurting her. Back off.”
Liam ignored him completely. His frameless glasses were askew, revealing eyes burning with a rage I’d never seen before. He stared only at me, chest heaving. “So this is why the sudden breakup? Already cozying up to your rich boss? Couldn’t even wait?”
“Liam, stop it!” I gasped, scrambling to steady the IV stand Henry had shielded. Henry planted himself firmly in front of it and me, refusing to budge even as Liam stepped closer. “Henry brought me here because I was sick! I have gastritis, you idiot! Look at the IV!”
“Sick?” Liam’s laugh was harsh, devoid of humor. “He seems like a very attentive nurse!” He gestured wildly at our disheveled state. “This is how he takes care of his employees? Or is he just taking care of you?”
The accusation, the sheer disbelief in his voice, ignited my own anger. “You hypocrite! How many times did you ‘just take care’ of Hannah? Driving her home, laughing with her, sharing God knows what jokes?! Does that mean youwere screwing her?!”
“That was different!” Liam roared, stepping forward again, fists clenched at his sides.
“Different how?!” I shot back, pushing Henry’s protective arm aside to stand as best I could, the IV line tangling. “Tell me how it was different, Liam!”
He didn’t get the chance. Blinded by fury, perhaps by the image of me leaning on Henry, Liam swung. Not at me, but at Henry. His fist connected with a sickening crack against Henry’s jaw.
Henry’s head snapped back. He grunted, staggering a step, a thin trickle of blood immediately appearing at the corner of his mouth. He touched it, looked at the blood on his fingers, and then his eyes locked back onto Liam. All trace of the easygoing CEO vanished, replaced by a cold, terrifying fury.
“You son of a bitch,” Henry spat, the words low and venomous. He didn’t hesitate. He drove forward, a fast, powerful uppercut landing squarely in Liam’s stomach.
Liam doubled over with a choked gasp, his glasses flying off his face and clattering to the floor. Henry’s expensive loafer came down hard on them with a crunch of plastic and glass.
Chaos erupted.
“Liam! Stop!” Hannah’s shrill voice pierced the noise as she rushed into the bay. She grabbed Liam’s arm, trying to pull him back. “You’ll get fired! Stop it!”
Liam, still gasping from Henry’s blow, wrenched his arm free with a violent twist. Hannah, caught off balance, stumbled and fell backwards onto the floor near the small table where my IV supplies had been. Her hand landed squarely on a discarded, broken glass vial that hadn’t been cleared away yet. She shrieked in pain, clutching her bleeding palm.
Liam didn’t even glance at her. His entire focus was on Henry. With a guttural sound, he launched himself at Henry again.
They crashed into the privacy curtain, sending it clattering down, and became a tangle of fists and fury.
Henry blocked a wild swing, retaliating with a sharp jab to Liam’s ribs. Liam grabbed Henry’s collar, trying to slam him against the wall.
Henry twisted, driving his knee up.
They grappled silently, ferociously, the only sounds the sickening thuds of blows landing, their harsh breathing, and Hannah’s whimpers. Nurses shouted, patients gasped, and a crowd began to gather.
“ENOUGH!”
The word tore from my throat, raw and desperate.
My hand shot to the IV catheter in the back of my hand. Without thinking, I ripped it out. A bead of blood welled instantly. I shoved past the fallen curtain, ignoring the sting, and planted myself between the two men, shoving against Liam’s chest with my free hand while pushing Henry back with the other. “STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU! STOP!”
The sight of the blood on my hand, the IV line dangling uselessly, finally penetrated Liam’s rage-fueled haze. He froze mid-swing, his eyes wide, locked on the crimson smear. He stumbled back a step, his face draining of color. Instinctively, he lunged not at Henry, but towards a nearby supply cart, grabbing a wad of gauze. He pressed it roughly against my bleeding hand, his own hands shaking.
“Liv, I—” he started, his voice ragged.
I snatched my hand back, ignoring the gauze he offered. I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing my voice to be steady despite the tremor running through me. “I broke up with you, Liam, because I don’t love you anymore. Not because of Henry.” I gestured weakly at Henry, who stood panting, wiping blood from his mouth, his eyes still fixed on Liam with undisguised contempt. “Henry is my boss. He brought me here because I was sick and alone. That’s it. That’s the whole story. Whatever you thinkyou saw? It wasn’t that.”
Dr. Harrison, Liam’s department head, and a hospital administrator pushed through the gathered staff, their faces thunderous. Dr. Harrison zeroed in on Liam.
“Dr. Evans! What in God’s name is the meaning of this?! Brawling in the ER? With a visitor?! Do you have any idea the disciplinary action this warrants?!” Harrison’s voice boomed with authority and fury.
Liam didn’t even look at him. His gaze remained fixed on me, the raw anger replaced by something else—a profound, gut-wrenching shock. The fire in his light brown eyes seemed to fracture, revealing a terrifying emptiness beneath. The carefully constructed image of the cool, controlled surgeon lay in ruins around him, as shattered as his glasses on the floor.
Hannah struggled to her feet, cradling her bleeding hand. She shot me a look of pure venom before limping towards Liam. “Liam…” she murmured, reaching out to touch his arm, her voice thick with pain and appeal.
Liam flinched as if burned. He yanked his arm away from her touch without even looking at her, his focus entirely consumed by the silent space between him and me. Hannah’s face paled, humiliation warring with the pain.
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