chapter 5

Anna's POV

The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the quiet hospital room, blending with the rhythmic hum of the IV pump. I adjusted my stethoscope around my neck as I observed Mr. Caldwell, our patient who had just been transferred out of the ICU after a successful percutaneous coronary intervention. His once pale face now had a bit more color, and the tension in his features had eased considerably.

"Mr. Caldwell, how are you feeling?" I asked with a warm smile, adjusting his chart on the bedside table.

He gave me a tired but genuine grin. "Better, thanks to you and your team. Though I wouldn't say no to a juicy steak instead of this hospital food."

Tony chuckled beside me. "We'll put in a request for a five-star menu just for you."

Mr. Caldwell laughed weakly. "If only."

I shook my head playfully. "I'm afraid your arteries would protest, Mr. Caldwell. We need to keep your cholesterol levels under control after that angioplasty."

Tony, standing next to me, leaned in slightly. "But once you're fully recovered, maybe a cheat meal wouldn't hurt."

The warmth in his voice wasn't just for the patient. Tony had always been like that—thoughtful, kind, with an easygoing charm that put people at ease.

He was also one of my closest friends at the hospital.

I'd known Tony since my internship days. He had been one of the few doctors who never treated me like I was insignificant, despite my lack of experience. Over time, we'd developed a solid friendship, but if there was something more beneath his kindness, I had never noticed.

"Speaking of recovery," I continued, flipping through Mr. Caldwell's chart, "how's your breathing? Any chest discomfort?"

He shook his head. "Nothing unbearable. Just a little tired."

"That's normal. Your heart went through a lot. But with the right rehabilitation and medication, you should be back to your old self in no time."

Tony nodded in agreement. "And no more skipping your medications, Mr. Caldwell. I heard you were quite the rebel before this."

Mr. Caldwell grinned sheepishly. "Can't deny it. But I suppose a second chance at life is worth listening to my doctors."

I was about to respond when the door swung open.

The air in the room shifted.

Adrian.

He walked in with his usual composed demeanor, his white coat pristine, his ID badge clipped neatly to the pocket. His presence commanded attention, even when he wasn't trying.

For some reason, he ignored both Tony and me, his sharp gaze focused solely on the chart in his hands. "Mr. Caldwell, how's your discomfort level?"

His tone was clipped, professional.

Mr. Caldwell gave a small smile. "Doing better, Dr. Carter."

Adrian hummed in acknowledgment and made a few notes in the chart. "Your vitals have stabilized. The echocardiogram shows mild left ventricular dysfunction, but with proper management, it should improve."

I frowned slightly. No greeting. No eye contact.

This wasn't unusual for Adrian—he wasn't the warmest of people—but something felt different today.

I cleared my throat. "Dr. Carter, has there been any indication of atrial fibrillation post-procedure?"

His pen moved across the chart. "None so far. However, we'll continue to monitor for arrhythmic complications, given his history of hypertension."

Still, he didn't look at me.

I pressed on. "Would you recommend an additional beta-blocker dosage adjustment?"

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "For now, carvedilol 12.5 mg BID should suffice. If his heart rate trends higher, we'll reconsider."

His voice was even, but there was something distant about him.

Tony must have noticed too because he glanced at me briefly, a hint of confusion in his eyes.

I hesitated. "Alright, I'll keep monitoring his vitals."

Adrian nodded stiffly, snapped the chart shut, and without another glance, walked out.

Silence hung in the air for a moment.

Tony let out a low whistle. "Well. That was… cold."

I exhaled, shaking my head. "Maybe he's just having a rough day."

Tony shrugged. "Or maybe he's just allergic to social interactions."

I let out a small laugh, but deep down, a nagging feeling wouldn't leave me. Something was off with Adrian, but I brushed it aside.

I had more important things to focus on.

Lunch Break

The cafeteria was buzzing with conversation, the scent of fresh coffee and warm bread filling the air. Tony and I sat at our usual table, trays filled with whatever hospital food looked the least unappealing that day.

"So, tell me," Tony said, stirring his iced coffee, "what's your grand plan now that you've finished your internship?"

I took a bite of my sandwich, thinking. "I'm leaning toward cardiology. But you probably guessed that already."

Tony smirked. "Hard to miss, considering you practically breathe heart murmurs and ECG readings."

I laughed. "I do not."

He gave me a knowing look. "Anna, you literally got excited last week over a patient's perfectly timed S3 heart sound."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, maybe a little."

He chuckled. "Well, whatever you choose, you'll be great at it."

"Thanks, Tony." I smiled, touched by his confidence in me.

Just as I was about to take another bite, movement from across the cafeteria caught my eye.

Adrian.

He stood at the entrance, his tray in hand, his expression unreadable. His sharp gaze swept over the cafeteria until it landed on me.

Or rather, on me and Tony.

Something flickered in his eyes—something I couldn't quite decipher.

Then, just as quickly, his gaze hardened, and he turned away, settling into a table alone.

My stomach twisted.

What was that?

Tony must have noticed my shift in attention because he followed my gaze. "Ah. The esteemed Dr. Carter graces us with his presence."

I nudged him. "Stop it."

He smirked. "I'm just saying, he's been acting weird around you."

I frowned. "Weird how?"

Tony shrugged. "I mean, he already has the personality of a brick wall, but usually, he at least acknowledges your existence. Today, though? Nothing. Nada."

I sighed, glancing at Adrian's table again. He wasn't eating. He was staring at his tray, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table.

Was he upset about something?

And why did it bother me?

I shook my head, pushing the thought away. "He's probably just in work mode."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."

But as we continued eating, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted.

That for some reason, Adrian Carter—brilliant, intimidating, completely unreadable Adrian—was bothered by something.

And for the first time, I wondered…

Was it me?