Saturday evening's heavy tension lingered in the air long after we stepped through the glass entrance of the Huang Group building.
The corporate headquarters was nearly empty, illuminated only by dimmed overhead nightlights. The polished marble floors reflected our shadows as our footsteps echoed softly through the vast lobby. Harley walked ahead of me without looking back once, his shoulders squared and his posture impossibly rigid.
When we reached his top-floor executive office, he pushed the heavy door open and stepped aside for me to enter first.
I walked in slowly as the familiar, comforting scent of leather and cedar wrapped around me. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows revealed a panoramic view of the Seoul skyline, glowing brilliantly beneath us. The door clicked shut behind him.
Harley walked over to his massive mahogany desk. Instead of taking a seat, he leaned casually against the front edge, crossing his arms over his chest and watching me intently.
I stood my ground, staring back at him. "Did you bring me all the way back here just to stare at me?"
"Why are you entertaining Dylan?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm and collected.
My mouth dropped open slightly—not just because of the blunt question, but because everything suddenly clicked into place. Back in high school, whenever I had shown even the slightest bit of interest in a boy, Harley would somehow find out and effortlessly talk me out of it.
After quickly regaining my composure, I straightened my back. "You don't get to decide who I entertain, Harley."
"He's not serious, Sophie."
Neither am I.
I walked toward him, stopping just a foot away and crossing my arms over my chest. "Look, Harley, you really need to stop interfering in my personal life. I am more than capable of taking care of myself."
His sharp eyes flickered briefly. "So I'm just supposed to sit back and watch you get hurt by someone like him?"
I took a deep, steadying breath and slowly exhaled. "I'm not interested in Dylan like that."
Harley uncrossed his arms and stood up straight, sliding both hands into his trousers pockets. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips as he walked past me to sit down in his leather desk chair.
"Are you adjusting well at the hospital?" he asked, casually flipping through a stack of documents resting on his desk.
I blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift in subject.
My heels echoed softly against the floor as I turned and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the glittering city below. The view was breathtaking.
"Work is going well," I said quietly. "I love what I do. I'm just happy I finally get to help people who need it."
He paused, his hand freezing over the papers. He lifted his gaze to mine. "As long as you're happy."
A comfortable silence filled the expansive room.
I stared at my faint reflection in the dark glass. "Remember how we used to talk about when you'd take over the company, and I'd be your personal secretary?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood with a memory from our past.
"Yes."
I turned around to face him, leaning lightly back against the window frame. "Look, Harley… I know I hurt you deeply. But I don't want any more tension between us."
He pushed back his chair and stood up.
When his eyes met mine, something dangerously close to raw longing flickered across his gaze before he quickly veiled it once more. He exhaled a long, slow breath.
"Let's go home," he said quietly, walking toward the office door.
I offered a small nod and followed close behind him.
The environment on the internal medicine floor at Seojin General Hospital was a stark contrast to the quiet, suffocating tension of the Huang Group. Phones rang incessantly, monitors beeped in overlapping, chaotic rhythms, and medical staff moved briskly between patient rooms with clipped urgency.
"Dr. Huo," a nurse called out, hurrying toward me with a chart clutched in her hand. "The patient in room 317 is complaining of sudden chest tightness. His vitals are completely unstable."
I didn't let panic overtake me; I kept my pace steady and controlled. "Has an ECG been completed yet?" I asked calmly.
"Not yet."
"Prep the machine immediately. I'll see him now."
Inside room 317, the patient was deathly pale, clutching his chest while his wife hovered anxiously beside his bed, tears brimming in her eyes.
"It feels... so much worse, doctor," the man choked out, his voice severely strained.
I stepped closer to the side of the bed, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Take slow, deep breaths for me. We're going to run a quick, routine test right now."
The nurse moved with quick efficiency once orders were given. I stood beside the monitor, scanning the wave readings carefully and methodically rather than reacting to the atmosphere of panic in the room.
"His blood pressure is spiking rapidly," the nurse whispered, her anxiety rising.
"Adjust his oxygen mask and continue monitoring his rhythm," I instructed evenly. "It's not a heart attack."
The patient's wife looked at me, stunned. "It's... it's not?"
"It's anxiety-induced tachycardia," I explained softly, keeping my tone grounding. "We're going to give him a mild sedative to stabilize him right away."
Within a matter of minutes, the crushing fear in the room began to dissolve. The patient's shallow breathing slowed to a steady rhythm, and the healthy color gradually returned to his pale face.
"Thank you, doctor," the wife sobbed softly, overwhelming relief washing over her face.
I gave her a warm, reassuring nod. "He's going to be just fine. We'll keep him under close observation for the next few hours."
Outside the room, the nurse let out a long breath. "I really thought it was something catastrophic."
"It could have escalated quickly," I replied gently. "But panic only makes a patient's symptoms worse. You always have to stay steady."
She nodded quickly, taking my words to heart.
The remainder of my shift flowed with remarkable ease. There were minor complications and routine cases, but nothing overwhelming. Each situation was met with calm decisions and steady hands.
By the time I removed my white coat and stepped out through the glass doors of the hospital into the cool evening air, physical exhaustion lingered deep in my muscles—but so did a profound sense of fulfillment. This was where I truly belonged.
A surprised smile touched my lips when I spotted a familiar red car parked by the curb. Harley was leaning against the hood, a lit cigarette held loosely between his fingers.
I couldn't recall when he had taken up smoking, and I certainly didn't approve of the habit, but I couldn't help admiring how dangerously handsome he looked under the dim golden glow of the streetlights.
Shaking the stray thought from my mind, I walked over to him. "What are you doing here?"
Harley took one final drag before flicking the cigarette to the pavement and crushing it beneath the heel of his shoe. He looked up, his expression entirely blank.
Why does he keep doing that neutral look? It's so unnerving.
"What?" I pushed.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
Before I could formulate an answer, my stomach betrayed me with a loud, prolonged growl. A wave of heat rushed straight to my cheeks in total embarrassment. It had been an intensely demanding shift, and I hadn't even had time to finish the apple I packed.
Truthfully, I had made time this morning to prepare a full lunchbox, but I could never seem to sit down long enough to eat it lately. It usually ended up untouched in the trash. Maybe I'll give the hospital cafeteria a try tomorrow, I thought, remembering a nurse mentioning the food quality had improved.
I gave a silent nod and opened the passenger door, climbing into the cool leather seat.
Moments later, Harley slid into the driver's side. The engine roared to life with a powerful, smooth hum before he pulled smoothly away from the curb.
I rested my head against the window, watching as the shimmering lights of the city blurred past us.
Changes were happening between us.
Slowly. But surely.