"Doctor"
I raised my head to look at my patient's relative as I walked out of the operation theatre. The weight of exhaustion clung to me like a shadow, but I forced a reassuring smile.
"Mrs. Hughes," I said softly, my voice steady.
"Dr. Fayre, please, how's my son?" she asked, her voice trembling with desperation.
I smiled at her, a genuine smile this time.
"Don't worry. The operation went well; he's a strong kid."
Her eyes welled with tears as relief washed over her face.
"Thank you," she whispered tearfully.
I nodded at her, resisting the urge to comfort her further. There was a fine line between professionalism and personal connection, and I had learned to tread it carefully. Turning toward the changing room, I let the weight of the day settle on me.
Inside, I peeled off my surgical clothes, the faint smell of antiseptic and sweat clinging to the air. Moments like these made me reflect on the fragility of life, the power of hope, and my role in it all.
---
The sound of my phone buzzing on the desk pulled me from my thoughts. I checked the screen and saw a message from Zavid, someone who had become more than just a friend over the past few months.
Zavid: Have you had lunch?
You: Not yet.
Zavid: Good. I'll come get you so we can eat together.
You: Okay 😊
I smiled at his message, the tension in my shoulders easing. Before replying, I called Nancy, my assistant, through the intercom.
When she entered, her expression was… odd. Like she knew something I didn't.
"Nancy, I'll be going for lunch outside. I'll be back in two hours."
She hesitated, fidgeting with her pen. "Miss…"
"Yes?" I prompted, raising an eyebrow.
"Uh…" She looked like she wanted to say something but stopped herself.
"Spit it out, Nancy."
"Well… miss, you've made it to the tabloids."
I blinked. "What?"
She handed me her phone, and I stared at the screen. Headlines screamed accusations, twisting stories about me and… Zavid. The more I read, the more my stomach churned. It was all lies, but lies spread faster than truth.
"Is there more?" I asked, my voice cold.
Nancy nodded reluctantly and showed me a video. It was grainy footage of me and Zavid walking out of a restaurant, laughing together. The captions spun it into something scandalous.
My fingers clenched into fists. "Leave, Nancy," I said, my voice tight. "I'll handle this."
---
After she left, I slumped into my chair, my mind racing. Before I could think of my next move, my phone buzzed again.
Seraphina: Hey darling, don't mind your bitch of a sister. C'mon, you deserve Zavid more than she does.
Clementina: Honey don't listen to what the netizens are saying. I'm for you and Zavid xoxo.
I let out a bitter laugh. These two women, Seraphina and Clementina, had unexpectedly become my allies in this bizarre chapter of my life.
Just then, another message popped up.
Zavid: I'm here; meet me in the car park.
You: Okay. I'll be there.
I packed my things and left the office. As I walked through the hospital corridors, I could feel the stares. Whispered conversations stopped abruptly as I passed. My heart pounded, but I held my head high.
When I reached the parking lot, I spotted Zavid leaning against his car. His smile was warm, but his eyes narrowed as he noticed my tense expression.
"What's wrong?" he asked as I slid into the passenger seat.
"It's nothing," I lied, forcing a smile.
"That smile looks fake," he pointed out, his voice laced with concern.
I sighed, pulling out my phone and showing him the articles and video.
"What does she mean by doing this?" he asked, his jaw tightening.
"I don't know," I admitted.
"But I'll handle it."
---
We arrived at the restaurant, but my appetite was long gone. Still, I forced myself to eat, not wanting to ruin the moment.
"So, did you enjoy the meal?" he asked as we walked back to the car.
"Yeah, I did," I lied again, smiling faintly.
Back at the hospital's car lot, he turned to me.
"Then I guess I'll be taking you there often."
"Sure," I replied.
"I'll be going now," I said, stepping out of the car.
"I love you," he said suddenly, his voice soft yet firm.
I froze. I wanted to say it back, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I nodded, smiled, and walked back to the office.
---
Inside, I sat at my desk, staring at the drawer where I kept my pen drive. It contained the truth—evidence of Anotella's lies. She had gone on national television, accusing me of stealing her husband. The nerve of that woman.
I opened the drawer and took out the pen drive. My fingers trembled as I held it. It was my weapon, my last resort.
"It seems I have to use it soon," I muttered.
The clock read 4:30 pm. I dove into my work, determined to finish before the storm hit.
At 5:40 pm, a knock sounded on my door.
"Come in."
Nancy walked in. "Miss, I'm leaving," she said.
I nodded. "Goodnight."
As she left, I turned to my screen. I never wanted to do this, considering Anotella and I were family. But she had pushed me too far.
I packed my things, walked to the underground parking lot, and drove home.
Tonight, I would plan my next move.
---
"Zavid," I called softly, my fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. The warmth of his skin beneath my touch was soothing, like a balm for my racing thoughts.
"Hmm?" His chest vibrated with the hum, the sound deep, almost like a purr. There was something about the way he responded that made my heart flutter—like he was content, like he had all the time in the world for me.
I hesitated, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need your help with something small." The words felt heavy as they left my lips, and I wasn't sure if it was guilt or nervousness weighing them down.
His laughter was light, teasing. "With what?" he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in amusement. He always had a way of making everything seem so simple, as though the world would bend just to accommodate him.
I buried my face against his chest, trying to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. "Zavid!" I whined, smacking his shoulder lightly. He chuckled, the sound rumbling through me.
"Alright, alright," he said, his tone softer now. "What do you need, love?"
I pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, my fingers still resting on his chest. "I need you to help me get into the show Anotella went to. The same time she'll be there next." My voice wavered slightly, my confidence faltering as I waited for his response.
He tilted his head, his gaze narrowing slightly as if trying to read between the lines of my request. Then, with a small shrug, he said, "Alright."
Relief flooded me, and I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. "Thanks. You're the best."
"But," he said, his voice tinged with curiosity, "what are you gonna do once you're there?"
I grinned mischievously, leaning closer. "Surprise," I whispered before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
But, before I could pull away, he caught me, his hand sliding to the back of my neck. His lips captured mine in a deeper, more consuming kiss, and I felt myself melting into him. Suddenly, he flipped us, and I found myself lying beneath him, his weight grounding me in the most comforting way.
My mind raced as I looked up at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of playfulness and something deeper, something that always left me breathless. "This is going to be a long night," I thought, my heart pounding in my chest.
---
The next day, as I walked to the cafeteria with Melissa, the whispers started again. They were like tiny daggers, sharp and unrelenting. I could feel their eyes on me, their judgment burning into my back.
Melissa, one of the few allies I had managed to make amongst the electors, walked beside me, her expression a mix of concern and frustration.
"Ignore them," she said quietly, her voice barely cutting through the murmur of the crowd.
"I do," I replied, my tone flat. "I've gotten used to it."
But the truth was, no matter how much I tried to ignore it, their words still stung. Especially after what Anotella had done. She had come yesterday, her act so perfectly crafted, so convincingly sweet, that she had destroyed my reputation in one fell swoop. Now, I was nothing more than a shadow of the person I used to be—a surgeon and doctor known for my skills, but whispered about as someone cold, heartless, and ruthless.
---
"Celestina," Melissa said, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I turned to her, raising an eyebrow.
"Aren't you feeling… something?" she asked hesitantly, her words careful as though she were afraid of triggering something in me.
I shook my head, taking a bite of my mac 'n' cheese. "Not really," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "I'm used to it."
Melissa frowned. "Aren't you going to defend yourself?"
I looked at her, my expression blank. "I don't care what others think of me as long as my family believes me. That's all that matters."
She nodded slowly, but her discomfort was evident. Did she think I didn't know she was planted by Anotella? That she was here to report back on my every move?
"Why doesn't your husband defend you?" she asked suddenly, her voice carrying a note of genuine confusion.
I sighed, putting down my fork. "I've been doing this for a week now. Adding another voice to the chorus won't change anything."
Melissa opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. "I don't want to talk about him right now." My voice was quiet but firm, leaving no room for argument.
---
Later that day, I found myself staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My face was pale, my eyes dull. The stress was taking its toll, and my body was starting to rebel.
"Urgh," I groaned as a wave of nausea hit me. I barely made it to the toilet before throwing up everything I had eaten earlier.
"Celeste, are you okay?" Zavid's voice was filled with worry as he entered the bathroom.
I wiped my mouth and nodded weakly. "Yeah," I croaked out, though the acidic taste in my mouth told a different story.
"You look pale," he said, his eyes scanning me for any signs of serious illness.
"I'm fine," I insisted, forcing a smile. "It's just a stomach bug."
He didn't look convinced. "Let's cancel the plan. We can do it next time, and I'll send you to the hospital."
I shook my head, placing a hand on his arm. "No. I need to go to that place today."
He hesitated, his concern evident, but I hugged him, leaning into his warmth. "I'm fine," I whispered. "Aren't you here with me?"
He sighed, finally relenting. "Alright. But promise me, if you feel worse, you'll let me know."
"I promise," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure I meant it.
---
When we arrived at the show, my nerves were on edge. I saw Anotella across the room, her smirk aimed directly at me. But instead of feeling intimidated, I smirked back, raising my brows in challenge. Her calm demeanor faltered, her confusion flickering across her face.
"Hey," Zavid said, pulling my attention back to him. "It's going to be alright."
I nodded, his words grounding me. He hugged me then, his arms strong and reassuring. "Don't worry," I whispered into his ear. "I won't do anything I can't handle."
As the show's crew began their final preparations, a man approached us, his expression nervous. "The show will start airing in five minutes," he said before quickly retreating.
"I need to go," I told Zavid, adjusting my microphone.
He nodded, his eyes filled with pride and something deeper. "You've got this," he said.
I took my seat, Anotella following moments later. She looked calm, collected, but I could see the cracks beneath the surface.
"Are you ready?" she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.
I smiled, a slow, confident smile that I knew would unnerve her. "Always."
As the cameras began rolling, I took a deep breath. This was my moment. Whatever happened next, I was ready.