DASHIELL
I couldn't stop thinking about it.
The static in my head had been loud since the meeting, and Calliope's words kept replaying on a loop. *Personal distractions. Perhaps with more experience…*
I walked through the hospital corridors on the balls of my toes, fingers tapping rapidly against the side of my tablet. My left foot rubbed against my right ankle every few steps. My brain wouldn't let it go.
When I reached Alexander's office, I bounced lightly on my toes for a few seconds, then knocked twice.
"Come in."
I stepped inside. Alexander was at his desk, reviewing scans across multiple monitors. His dark eyes lifted immediately. His posture shifted, just slightly when he saw me.
"Dashiell. Close the door."
I did, remaining near the desk, still bouncing lightly.
"I need to talk to you," I said directly. "About Dr. Langford."
Alexander leaned back, watching me with that intense, unblinking focus.
"Tell me."
I organized my thoughts, then spoke plainly.
"She doesn't like me. She keeps making comments about me being distracted, too young, not experienced enough. Today she implied our marriage is affecting my work. I need to understand why. Did something happen between you two before we got married?"
I added honestly, "My brain keeps looping on it like a puzzle. It won't stop until I have the pieces."
Alexander studied my face for a moment, then answered in his flat, truthful tone.
"Yes. We had sex. For a while."
My foot-rubbing intensified. My fingers tapped faster against the tablet.
"Just sex?"
"Just sex," he confirmed. "No relationship. No feelings. She wanted more. I didn't and it ended when I married you."
I rocked slightly on my toes, processing.
"So she's jealous because you chose me. And now she's trying to undermine me at work."
Alexander's eyes darkened.
"Yes."
I nodded slowly.
"Okay. That makes sense now. I thought maybe I did something wrong. But it's not about me."
Alexander stood and walked around the desk. He cupped my face with both hands, thumbs stroking my cheeks.
"It is about you," he corrected, voice low and possessive. "She sees what I chose. And she hates that I chose you over her."
"I don't like when people try to hurt my work," I said. "It makes me feel… unsafe."
"No one is going to hurt you," he said, cold and certain. "Not her or anyone. I won't allow it."
He kissed me, slow at first, then deeper, one hand slid into my hair, gripping just tight enough to pull a soft whimper from my throat.
When he pulled back, his eyes were dark.
"Go finish your rounds," he ordered quietly. "Then I'll come find you and we go home."
I nodded, cheeks warm, fingers still tapping.
"Okay."
As I turned to leave, bouncing on my toes again, I paused at the door.
"Alexander?"
"Hm?"
"I still don't like her,"
A rare, small smirk touched his lips.
"Good. You don't have to."
I closed the door, heart beating faster, but my mind felt clearer now that the puzzle had its missing piece.
The rest of my afternoon passed in a focused blur.
I spent most of it preparing for Sophie's surgery. Dr. Patel and I had finalized the surgical plan this morning. Wednesday at 7:30 AM. I would be in the OR the entire time for intraoperative neuromonitoring.
I stood outside Sophie's room for a few seconds, adjusting the strap of my tablet case until it sat perfectly level. My fingers tapped rapidly against the side of the tablet. I took a slow breath and knocked.
Her mother looked up when I entered, eyes tired but determined. Sophie was drawing again, but she seemed quieter today.
"Good afternoon," I said directly. "I wanted to go over the final details for Wednesday."
The mother nodded, gripping Sophie's hand.
"Is everything still on track?"
"Yes," I replied. "The second opinion from Children's National confirmed the same plan. We'll remove the lesion while protecting the surrounding eloquent areas. I'll be monitoring the brain waves in real time."
Sophie looked up from her drawing, clutching her bunny.
"Will I wake up the same?" she asked in a small voice.
I crouched down a little so I was closer to her eye level.
"You might feel tired and have a headache," I told her honestly. "Your right leg might feel weak for a while because the lesion is close to the area that controls movement. But we will work very hard to make you strong again. You will do therapy after. And I will check on you every day."
Her mother's voice cracked.
"What are the biggest risks?"
I straightened and answered plainly.
"Bleeding, infection, and temporary or permanent changes in speech or movement. Because of where the lesion sits, there is about a 12% chance of noticeable speech difficulty afterward. But most children recover well with time and therapy."
I stayed with them for a long time, answering every question, even the ones they had asked before. When I finally stepped out of the room, my foot was rubbing hard against my ankle and my fingers wouldn't stop tapping.
Sophie's surgery was in three days.
And I felt the weight of it.
******
I climbed into the passenger seat and immediately buckled my seatbelt, adjusting it twice until it felt perfectly snug. Alexander started the car, the engine purring smoothly as we pulled out of the hospital parking garage.
After a few minutes of quiet, I noticed we weren't taking the usual route home.
"This is not our usual route home," I said, turning my head to look at him. My left foot rubbed against my right ankle. "We normally turn left at the third light."
Alexander kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on my thigh.
"I thought we could eat out tonight," he said calmly. "There's a Japanese restaurant nearby with private booths and soft lighting. I thought it might be quieter for you."
I blinked at him, surprised.
"Oh… okay," I said, fingers tapping rapidly against my knee. "I like Japanese food. Especially miso salmon with light ginger sauce. And broccoli that's still a little crunchy."
Alexander glanced at me, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
"Good. We'll get that then."
I rocked slightly in my seat, a small, pleased smile tugging at my lips.
"But… we have food at home. You didn't have to do this."
He squeezed my thigh, voice low and matter-of-fact.
"You had a long day. Your brain is loud. Eating out might help you switch off for a while."
I processed that for a second, then nodded.
"That is… surprisingly logical," I said honestly. "And nice. Thank you."
Alexander's smirk deepened just a fraction.
"Don't sound so shocked. I can be nice sometimes."
I gave him a deadpan look, still tapping my fingers.
"You are a psychopath. You don't do 'nice' unless you want something."
He chuckled darkly, the sound warm in the quiet car.
"Maybe I want to watch my husband relax for one night."
I felt my cheeks warm. I looked out the window, smiling despite myself.
"You're being suspiciously sweet today," I muttered. "Are you planning to do something inappropriate to me later?"
Alexander's hand slid higher on my thigh.
"Obviously."
I let out a small, embarrassed laugh and swatted his hand away half-heartedly.
"Focus on driving. No touching while driving. That is dangerous."
"Yes, Doctor," he said, voice dripping with mock obedience, but his hand stayed on my thigh anyway.
I didn't move it.
For the first time since the surgery, the static in my head felt quieter. Just a little.
And sitting here with Alexander, going to a restaurant because he noticed I was overwhelmed…
It felt good.
Even if he was still terrifying.