The patient was a twenty-six-year-old who'd run a red light and lost the argument with a delivery truck. He garnered multiple fractured ribs and lacerations across his chest and arms. He was conscious but barely, drifting in and out while we worked to stabilize him.
"You're going to be fine," I told him, keeping my voice calm even as my hands moved quickly. "We've got you. Just stay with me."
He mumbled something I couldn't make out. His girlfriend's name. Or his mother's. Nobody could tell.
"We're taking you to surgery now. You're in good hands."
An hour later, I handed him off to the surgical team, confident he would make it. My scrubs were stained with blood, but there was satisfaction in knowing I'd done my job well. One more life saved. One more family that wouldn't get the worst phone call of their lives.
Just another morning at Obsidian.
I was reviewing a patient chart in the physicians' lounge when Riven appeared, holding two cups of coffee in hand. He moved through the department quietly, confidence oozing as the CEO of Obsidian in his thirties. Half the staff was intimidated by him, while the other half pretended to be unaffected.
But I just knew him as the guy who'd fallen asleep in our dorm room with a textbook on his face more times than I could count.
"Morning, Reed."
"Riven." I accepted the coffee he offered. "You're slumming it with the common folk today?"
"Board meeting in an hour. I needed to escape the executives for a few minutes before I fell into another long argument." He settled into the chair across from me, his posture perfect even in a break room. "I also wanted to check in."
I raised a brow before sipping from my cup. "About?"
“The new attending."
My hand paused halfway to my mouth. I set the coffee down carefully. "What about her?"
"Don't insult my intelligence, Cassian."
I should have known better than to try to play dumb with Riven. The man noticed everything. It was what made him an excellent CEO and a terrible person to have secrets around.
"I'm fine," I said. "It's been five years. We're both adults."
When I first found out about Calla being the new attending, I almost freaked out. I panicked about seeing her again. After years of marriage and years of distance, I wouldn’t know what to expect when I see her. Would I hate her? Would I be indifferent?
Riven’s words snapped me back to reality. "Adults who were married for years and haven't exchanged a single word since the divorce."
I looked away. "We agreed to stay civil. We'll be professional."
"Professional." Riven's tone didn't change, but something in his expression shifted. The closest he ever came to showing concern. "Is that what you're calling it?"
"What else would I call it?"
He studied me for a long moment, and I resisted the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. Riven had a way of looking at people that made them feel like specimens under a microscope. Most people found it unsettling and I had years to get used to it.
"When Mireya and I were figuring things out," he said finally, "I spent a lot of time telling myself I was fine when I wasn't. It didn't help. Just delayed the inevitable reckoning."
"This is different. Calla and I are over. I'm with Maya now. We live together."
Riven titled his head. "Living with someone doesn't mean you've stopped carrying someone else around."
I didn't have a response to that. Riven wasn't the type to push, which made it worse when he did. He only bothered when he thought he was correct.
"I'm not carrying anyone," I denied, my words felt like sandpaper in my throat.
Riven held my gaze for another beat. Then he stood, straightening his jacket.
"Just be careful," he said. "I'd rather see you honest and struggling than pretending everything's fine."
