"Of course you did." The corner of his mouth lifted. "Couldn't help yourself."
"Neither could you, apparently."
We stood side by side at the railing, looking out at the waking city. The silence between us was different than it had been at the cafeteria. Less heavy. More like the quiet between two people who'd said too much and were trying to figure out what came next.
"I used to do this during residency," Cassian said eventually. "Find the highest point in whatever hospital I was rotating through and just breathe for a few minutes before the day starts."
"I didn't know that."
"There's a lot you didn't know." He glanced at me. "A lot I didn't tell you."
I took a sip of my coffee. It was terrible, the same bitter brew from the cafeteria, but I drank it anyway. "Same."
"Yeah." He set his cup on the railing and started stretching, mirroring the movements I'd been doing before he arrived. "Mind if I join you?"
"Go ahead."
We stretched in silence, our bodies moving through familiar patterns. Reach. Fold. Breathe. It reminded me of the yoga classes we used to take together during our first year of marriage, before our schedules became impossible and self-care became a luxury neither of us could afford. Cassian had been terrible at it, always fidgeting, always making jokes when he was supposed to be meditating. But he'd kept going because I'd asked him to. Because he'd wanted to share something with me.
The sun crept higher, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. Somewhere below, the hospital was waking up, preparing for another day of chaos and crisis.
Up here, everything felt suspended. Like we existed outside of time, outside of the complications waiting for us on the ground.
"Can I ask you something?" Cassian said, his arms extended overhead.
"You can ask. I might not answer."
"Fair enough." He lowered his arms and turned to face me. "The offer from Daniel Hargreeve. The leadership position at the new trauma center. Are you going to take it?"
"I don't know yet," I said. "I'm still thinking about it."
"What's holding you back?"
You. The word rose in my throat, unbidden and unwelcome. The fact that taking another opportunity feels like repeating the same mistake I made five years ago. The fact that I don't know how to choose my career without feeling like I'm choosing against you.
"It's complicated," I said instead.
"Because of the protocol?"
"Partially."
"And the other part?"
I turned to face him fully. The morning light caught his features, illuminating the green of his eyes, the stubble along his jaw, the way exhaustion had carved shadows beneath his cheekbones. He looked older than I remembered. More worn. But still unbearably familiar.
"I don't want to run again," I admitted. "I did that once. Took the fellowship, convinced myself that distance would make things clearer. It didn't. It just made everything harder."
"This is different though. This isn't about running. It's about opportunity."
"Is it?" I gestured between us. "Or is it about me avoiding whatever this is."
Cassian stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell the hospital soap on his skin, could see the flecks of gold in his irises.
"What is this, Calla?"
"I don't know."
"That's not an answer."
