“Simple instructions.” She set the container down, giving me her undivided attention. “Riven. What’s happening right now?”
“Nothing. I’m trying to maintain basic organization?—”
“That’s nonsense.” Her voice rose. “You’re picking a fight. Over mail. Over Emma’s homework. Neither of those is the real problem.”
“I’m not?—”
“You are.” She crossed her arms tightly. “You came home angry about something else. Now you’re taking it out on me. Over things that don’t matter.”
“They do?—”
“The mail was on your desk instead of the table. Emma stayed up an extra hour with perfect vitals. These are not real problems.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides. “Maybe the problem is that you're overstepping. You're here to provide nursing care for Emma. Not rearrange my life. Not make executive decisions about my home.”
The words rushed out before I could stop them, harsh and cutting.
Her face froze. “Right. I’m just the hired nurse. How could I forget?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.” Her voice dropped. “I’m here to do a job. Follow instructions. Not think for myself. Not make basic decisions about mail when the table is crowded.”
“Mireya—”
“No. You’re right. I overstepped. I’ll follow your instructions more carefully from now on.” She turned and walked toward her room. “Enjoy your evening, Dr. Cross.”
The formality of my title felt like a slap.
I stood there alone, surrounded by the Thai food she'd thoughtfully ordered, feeling worthless and small.
I started toward my office.
Halfway down the hall, I stopped.
I glanced towards her door and like I thought, it was closed.
I raised my hand to knock, then dropped it.
What would I even say?
I turned to leave.
“Riven?”
I looked back. Her door had opened. She stood in the doorway, one hand on the knob, her expression calmer now but guarded.
My chest ached.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "About the mail. I should’ve moved Emma's art supplies first. And I should’ve made Emma go to bed earlier. You're right—I wasn't following your instructions properly."
The apology was far more than I deserved. Guilt twisted like a blade between my ribs.
“You don’t need to apologize.”
"I do. You gave me a place to live when I had absolutely nothing. And I repaid you by not listening to simple requests."
“Mireya—”
