Sunday felt different.
No alarms. No patients. No constant hum of the hospital reminding them that they were being watched.
For the first time in weeks, Mia and Andrew found themselves free at the same time.
"You actually… made it," Mia said, leaning against the apartment doorframe. Coffee in hand, hair messy from sleeping in.
"I didn't want to miss this," Andrew replied, voice low, and she noticed the hint of a smile he was trying hard to suppress.
They didn't speak about the wristband, the unknown number, or the almost-kiss from that week. Not yet. It wasn't necessary. The silence carried all of it.
"I think… we can't live like this anymore," Mia said finally. "Hiding, pretending, overthinking every shadow. If we don't start, nothing will ever change."
Andrew nodded, eyes dark but steady.
"You're right. We investigate. Today. Together."
She grinned. A real one, the kind that reached her eyes and made him look away for a second.
They spread the hospital files across the dining table at Andrew's apartment. Charts, transfer logs, old reports that had been archived, patient schedules—everything that seemed normal on its face.
Mia picked up a mislabeled folder. "Look at this," she said, pointing to a row of patients.
Andrew leaned over. "Wait… all these patients were transferred out of the old wing… on different dates… but the same tag appears on each chart."
She raised an eyebrow. "A code?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Like a shipment or a trial batch. I've seen these kinds of labels in cosmetic research."
Mia's stomach dropped. "You're saying… this could be what they're really doing?"
Andrew exhaled. "Exactly. And if they're using patients… we have to trace it back. Find the common link."
Hours passed as they cross-referenced charts, compared tags, and mapped patient movements. Every time their hands brushed, a spark shot up both of them. Each accidental touch lingered longer than necessary, and neither said anything, though their gazes spoke volumes.
At one point, Mia leaned closer to Andrew to see a chart. Her hair brushed his shoulder, and he stiffened.
"Careful," he murmured, voice low.
She smirked, teasing, "Or what?"
He leaned closer, just enough that the warmth between them was unbearable. "Or I'll remind you exactly why I'm jealous," he whispered.
Mia's breath hitched, but she didn't pull away.
Back to the research.
Mia tapped a name on the spreadsheet. "See this? Patient numbers 103, 107, 111… same chemical tag on their files. And look at the old wing transfer dates—they all overlap with days when the old wing was supposedly under maintenance."
Andrew frowned, scrolling through his notes. "Which means… someone is hiding this deliberately. We're onto something."
Her eyes met his. "This feels… dangerous."
"It is," he said. And yet, the way he looked at her, it was clear he wouldn't let her face it alone.
Hours melted, and the sky outside darkened. Yet they didn't stop. Every discovery added pieces to a puzzle they didn't fully understand, but for the first time, they felt in control.
Mia rubbed her eyes and yawned. Andrew handed her a mug of coffee without breaking his gaze.
"You need a break," he said softly.
"I don't want one," she replied, smiling faintly. "Not yet."
He stepped closer, careful not to crowd her. "Then I'll be here… keeping you from overdoing it," he said.
Her heart raced. She wanted to tease him back, but something in his eyes made her pause. They lingered in that space for a beat too long, that almost-kiss moment still simmering, unresolved.
By the end of the day, they had mapped several patterns:
Patients with specific tags were always moved through the old wing.
Transfer logs matched cosmetic trial batch numbers.
Schedules showed selective staff involvement.
"It's small," Mia said. "But it's something. Proof that we can start digging deeper."
Andrew nodded, hand brushing hers as he passed a folder. "Step by step," he said, voice low. "Together."
Her chest tightened. "Together," she repeated.
Outside, the city glowed in the Sunday evening calm.
Inside, the apartment was alive with charts, notes, whispers, and a tension neither dared release.
Something had finally shifted.
They were no longer running from fear.
They were chasing the truth.
And that truth… would change everything.