The door clicked softly behind them as Mia locked it, glancing up at the streetlight-flooded sky. The chill of night had settled in, brushing against their cheeks as they walked side by side down the quiet path leading home.
"See? I told you he was weird," Mia said suddenly, picking up where their earlier conversation had left off.
Jane let out a small laugh, her hands buried in the pocket of her hoodie. "You say that about every guy I talk to."
"Because most of them are weird," Mia said with a shrug. "But him? He gives off stalker energy."
Jane rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Her steps slowed a little, and Mia adjusted her pace to match. Streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement, and the silence between them felt easy, familiar.
"He's just my ex. It's not like he can hurt me anymore," Jane murmured.
Mia glanced at her, not buying the casual tone, but didn't push it. Instead, she looped her arm through Jane's. "Still. I'm walking you home every night now."
Jane smiled—tired, but grateful. "Thanks."
They walked in silence for a few more minutes. Jane's eyes scanned the road briefly, unintentionally. But the street was empty. Just passing cars and the soft rustle of trees.
By the time they reached their hostel, the night was thick and quiet. Mia gave her a nudge toward the front door. "Go. Sleep. Or at least collapse gracefully."
Jane snorted. "I'll try."
As she climbed the stairs to their shared room, her limbs heavy from the shift, Jane didn't let herself think too much—about the ex, about the stranger from the other night, about anything.
She just wanted sleep. And maybe, for once, peace.
The hallway lights buzzed softly overhead, casting a pale glow against the stark white walls. The ER had finally quieted, though the weight of the day still clung to the air like humidity after a storm.
Sophia leaned against the counter outside the nurses' station, her arms crossed loosely, gaze lingering on the clipboard she hadn't even realized she was still holding.
Her body ached—legs sore, back stiff—but her mind was still alert, tracing every patient she'd seen today. Every decision. Every stitch. Every breath held during the longest procedures.
Clara had long since gone, muttering about exhaustion and how Sophia had a problem with letting go. Maybe she did.
The hospital wasn't just work—it was her father's legacy. Her world. The walls practically remembered her first steps.
She sighed, placing the clipboard down and rolling her neck. There was a fine line between dedication and self-neglect, and she was aware of it—just not ready to walk away yet.
Outside the window at the far end of the hallway, the city was settling into a hush. Lights blinked in distant apartments. Traffic had thinned.
Sophia finally moved, slow and deliberate, walking toward the staff lounge. Her coat hung on the back of a chair. She didn't grab it yet. Instead, she sat for a moment, arms folded on the table, eyes half-closed.
The air was still. The kind of stillness that only came after you'd given your all.
---
Back at the Hostel – Jane's Room
The lights were dim in their small shared room. A faint breeze curled through the slightly open window, brushing over Jane's hair where she lay curled under the blanket.
She didn't remember falling asleep.
There was still a textbook open near the edge of her bed, one page slightly crumpled. Her uniform jacket hung messily off the chair. But for once, none of it mattered.
The exhaustion from the day had caught up with her, pulling her into a dreamless sleep.
Mia had already turned in, her steady breathing soft in the dark. Everything felt quiet, finally. Safe.
Jane's fingers twitched slightly beneath the covers, as if reaching for something her mind hadn't quite figured out yet.
But there was no face in her dreams. Just the comfort of warmth. The quiet of a night untouched by memory.
The soft buzz of her alarm nudged Sophia from a dreamless sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she simply lay there—staring at the ceiling of her minimalist apartment. Morning sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, washing her room in a pale gold hue.
She sat up slowly, rolling her shoulders. Another day.
Slipping out of bed, she padded barefoot to the kitchen. She reached for the kettle, set it on the stove, and rummaged through her drawers for tea—except the tin was empty. She sighed.
Breakfast was next. She pulled out eggs and bread, determined to whip up something simple. But the toast burned while she scrambled the eggs, and the eggs turned out rubbery. She stood by the counter, arms crossed, and stared at the pitiful sight.
"I'm a doctor, not a chef," she muttered dryly, tossing the failed breakfast into the bin.
Resigned, she moved back to her bedroom.
Her routine was crisp, methodical. A quick shower. Skincare. A tailored white blouse, soft beige slacks, and her signature lab coat—immaculate and starched. Her long, dark hair was brushed back into a sleek ponytail. She selected delicate pearl earrings and her usual watch. Every detail was polished, deliberate.
She checked herself once more in the mirror. Perfect.
Grabbing her keys, phone, and satchel, she stepped outside into the morning air. Her car was waiting in the driveway, spotless as always. As she drove through the neighborhood, her fingers tapped gently on the wheel, her eyes scanning the road without really thinking.
Then, she noticed it.
A small café on the corner, warm light spilling through its windows.
She hesitated—just for a second—before pulling over.
Mr. Ben's Coffee Shop
Jane tied her apron quickly behind her back, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The smell of roasted beans and baked pastries filled the cozy café, and the morning rush hadn't yet begun. She liked it this way—quiet, peaceful, the kind of silence that gave her space to breathe.
She took her place behind the counter, adjusting the trays of muffins and cleaning the espresso machine with a practiced rhythm. Mr. Ben waved from the back with a tired smile, but didn't interrupt her.
The door chimed softly as Sophia entered, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. The rich scent of roasted coffee and baked goods curled into the air.
Jane looked up from behind the counter, pausing mid-motion.
Their eyes met.
Recognition flickered in both.
Sophia offered a faint nod. "Morning."
Jane stood a little straighter. "Good morning."
As Sophia walked closer, her eyes drifted to the menu. "You work here?"
Jane gave a small shrug. "Part-time. Helps with school."
Sophia's gaze shifted to the pastries. "You recommend anything?"
"The cinnamon rolls are a favorite. Mr. Ben makes them fresh every morning."
"Then I'll try that," Sophia said. "And a black coffee. No sugar."
Jane moved efficiently, trying not to think too hard about how unexpected this moment was. Still, she noticed the crisp fold of Sophia's coat, the understated elegance of her clothes, the faint scent of citrus and something softer beneath it.
"I didn't expect to see you again," Jane said as she handed her the order.
Sophia took it, her fingers brushing Jane's just barely. "Neither did I."
A pause.
"I should head out," she added, checking her watch. "Busy day ahead."
"Take care," Jane murmured.
Sophia made her way to the door but stopped just before pushing it open.
She turned her head slightly. "Thanks for the recommendation."
Jane smiled. "Anytime."
Then, like a glimmer of something you're not sure was ever really there, she was gone.