Mia tried to convince herself that yesterday hadn't changed anything.
She told herself it was just another hospital morning.
Another shift.
Another routine.
Yet the moment she stepped inside, the air felt heavier.
She adjusted her ID badge and headed toward the nurse station, her eyes unconsciously drifting down the corridor that led to the Old Wing. The door was shut now. Firm. As if it had never been ajar at all.
"Stop," she muttered under her breath.
"You're overthinking."
"Mia."
She turned to see Andrew approaching, two coffee cups in his hands.
"For you," he said, offering one. "You looked like you forgot to breathe."
She blinked. "Was I that obvious?"
He smiled faintly. "Only to someone paying attention."
That sentence stayed with her longer than it should have.
They sat on the bench near the window, the quiet hum of hospital life surrounding them. For a moment, neither spoke. It was comfortable in a strange way—like silence didn't demand filling.
"About yesterday," Mia finally said, staring into her coffee. "Do you think we should pretend we didn't see any of it?"
Andrew leaned back, eyes on the ceiling.
"I've tried that before."
She looked at him. "And?"
"It doesn't work." He paused. "But it also doesn't mean we run headfirst into trouble."
Mia nodded. That sounded… fair.
A nurse rushed past them then, muttering under her breath about Room 214.
Mia stood immediately. "That's my patient."
"I'll come," Andrew said without hesitation.
The room was calm when they entered. Too calm.
The patient—a young woman—was sitting upright, her hands trembling slightly as she stared at them.
"Is something wrong?" Mia asked gently.
"I feel… weird," the patient said. "Like my skin is burning. But there's no rash."
Mia exchanged a glance with Andrew.
Burning skin. No visible reaction.
They documented it. Carefully. Clinically. Nothing alarming enough to raise flags—yet not normal enough to ignore.
Later, in the hallway, Mia exhaled sharply. "That didn't feel right."
"No," Andrew agreed. "But it wasn't enough to accuse anyone of anything."
"I know." She hesitated. "Still… write it down. Somewhere private."
Andrew studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Already did."
That surprised her.
"You did?" she asked.
"I said I stopped interfering," he replied quietly. "I didn't say I stopped noticing."
Something warm flickered in her chest.
The day passed slowly after that. Too slowly. Every sound felt louder. Every locked door more intentional.
As Mia was about to leave, she noticed Andrew waiting near the exit.
"Walking out together?" he asked.
She smiled. "Yeah."
Outside, the evening air was cool. For the first time that day, Mia felt like she could breathe properly.
"Andrew," she said, stopping suddenly. "If this turns into something bad—"
"We stop," he said immediately. "Together."
She looked at him, really looked at him.
Not just a coworker.
Not just a friend.
Someone who stood beside her without trying to lead or protect her into silence.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He smiled, soft and real. "Anytime, Mi."
Behind them, the hospital lights flickered once… then steadied.
And Mia knew—
whatever was hiding inside those walls wasn't done watching them yet.