The Things We Buried

Chapter4

The next morning felt strangely normal. Sunlight beaming through the tall hospital windows, birds chirping outside, nurses moved quickly between wards, charts tucked under their arms, the familiar rhythm of the hospital was already in motion.

I adjusted my ward coat and walked towards the nurses' station.

“Morning, doctor,” one of the nurses greeted.

I nodded and smiled.

I grabbed my patient’s folder, one Mrs Ezinne Okafor, being managed for Myocardial Ischemia, pretending to focus on it even though my mind was somewhere else entirely.

“You look distracted.”

The voice came from behind me. I turned.

Daniel stood a few steps away, holding an energy drink in one hand. His dark hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his fingers through it a few times this morning.

“I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” I said tiredly.

He walked closer, setting his drink on the table. “I didn’t get enough sleep either; my head feels heavy from overthinking,” he added.

“About the missing patient?”

“No, about us. I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. I liked it, Mel, I like you.”

I was in utter shock. My brain refused to process what he had just said. Dr. Daniel Adesemoye, the consultant everyone in the hospital respected, the man who carried himself with calm authority, just told me he liked me. Me? A medical student who still gets nervous presenting cases during ward rounds.

My mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

“You… like me?” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Mel. I do.”

“This is… this is a bad idea,” I said quickly, lowering my voice. “You’re a consultant, I’m just a student.”

“I don’t care.” He smiled softly.

“You should!” I blurted out.

Daniel’s posture, which until this point has shown him to be very relaxed, changes. He is now leaning towards me, lowering his voice.

“Don’t make a scene, please, just think about it.”

My eyes scanned through the ward and quickly focused on Onome, an intern nurse, struggling to get a blood sample from a patient as he narrated his whole life experience to her. She was always so put together; her makeup was flawless, her nose contoured to perfection. I had always admired girls who put in so much effort into their appearance. I, on the other hand, was carefree, didn’t have wahala, and was almost invisible. She called my name from the other side of the ward, the moment shattered. Daniel stepped back immediately, picking up his drink again as if nothing happened, and I walked towards Onome to assist her in getting her sample.

“I think he likes you,” Onome giggled.

Shamefaced, I bowed my head and muttered: “I know.”

The week passed in a blur of ward rounds, case presentations, and long afternoons. I avoided being alone with Daniel as much as possible. Not because I disliked him, but because the opposite was dangerously true. Every time he entered a room, my attention drifted to him before I could stop it. The way he carried himself. His soft, raspy, yet deep enough voice when he spoke. The way he licked his lips unconsciously—a habit I had noticed. And sometimes, when no one was looking, his eyes found mine.

By Friday afternoon, the cardiology rotation was almost over. The other students were already celebrating. I was packing my bag when Daniel approached me after rounds.

“Dr Ossai.”

“Yes, sir?”

He smiled slightly at the formal tone. Daniel was the kind of man who threw caution to the wind; he took major steps without hesitation, yet in everyday moments, he carried himself with a quiet, almost rigid formality.

“Before you leave, I need all the students' logbooks. Bring them to my office for me to sign.”

“Okay,” I said.

He nodded and walked away.

An hour later, I stood outside his office door holding a stack of logbooks. The corridor was quiet. I knocked, no answer. I tried the door handle, and it was locked. I frowned and pulled out my phone. He picked up after two rings.

“Hello?”

“Sir… I’m outside your office with the logbooks.”

There was a short pause. “Oh.” His voice sounded rougher than usual.

“I left the hospital earlier. I am not feeling well.” He added.

Concern slipped into my voice before I could stop it. “Are you okay?”

“Just fever, nothing serious.”

“If it's not too much trouble,” he continued, “could you drop them off at my place?”

My brain stalled. For a moment, I almost said no, but instead I heard myself saying “Okay.”

Forty minutes later, I stood outside his apartment on the top floor of a quiet building. I hesitated before knocking. Footsteps approached from inside, and the door opened a few seconds later. Daniel stood there, leaning slightly against the wooden doorframe. He looked different from the composed consultant I saw every day in the hospital. His dark hair was messier than usual, and his t-shirt hung loosely over his grey sweatpants. A faint flush warmed his cheeks, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot. He looked tired, like he hadn’t had much sleep.

“You actually came,” he said softly.

“You said you had a fever.”

He stepped aside as I walked in.

His house was surprisingly simple. Clean lines, neutral colors, bookshelves against one wall, sheer curtains that allowed light from the sunset to creep in. It looked like someone who valued quiet more than decorations lived there. The bedroom door was slightly open, and my eyes drifted inside without meaning to. Like the rest of the apartment, the room was simple and orderly. A neatly made bed sat against the far wall, dressed in plain white sheets. A small bedside table held nothing but a lamp and a book turned face down, as if he had fallen asleep reading it. It strangely felt intimate standing there, surrounded by pieces of his private life, a side of Daniel I had never seen before.

I handed him the logbooks.

“Thank you.” He set them on the table and sank onto the couch.

I instinctively touched his forehead. Warm. “You definitely have a fever.”

“You’re a doctor now?”

“Almost.” I smiled.

He leaned back against the couch cushions, “I took paracetamol earlier.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

I sighed. “Of course you haven’t.”

He watched me as I moved toward the kitchen, “You don't have to do that.”

“I know.”

The kitchen was small and neat. The counters were almost bare except for a coffee maker and a stacked set of mugs. A few plates sat in the drying rack beside the sink, and the fridge hummed softly in silence. I found a loaf of bread and some eggs, nothing fancy. Twenty minutes later, I returned with a tray.

“You cooked?”

“It’s just eggs and toast,” I said, placing the tray in front of him.

“Still counts.”

He ate slowly while I sat in the armchair across from him. The silence felt comfortable.

“Where’s your family?’ I asked eventually.

“In Ibadan.”

“You don’t see them often?”

“Work,” he simply said.

“Why cardiology?’

He wiped his hand with a napkin before answering.

“My father had heart disease when I was younger.”

“Oh.”

“I spent a lot of time in the hospitals growing up,” he said quietly. “I guess that stayed with me.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. “Sounds like you had a rough childhood. I hope he's okay now?”

“Sadly, he died when I was 15,” he said almost casually.

“I’m sorry to hear.”

The evening stretched on without either of us noticing. We talked about movies, school, residency, terrible night shifts, and the strangest patients we’d encountered. Hours passed, and at some point, I moved to sit beside him on the couch. He seemed less feverish now.

“You should rest,” I said softly. “And I should probably get going.”

“Mel, please stay the night. I could really use the company.” He grabbed my hands as I stood up.

“I don’t know.”

“Please, I meant what I said earlier.”

I looked down at my hands, now intertwined with his.

“Daniel…”

“Melissa.” His voice was quieter now.

When I finally looked up, he was already watching me. He reached up slowly, giving me enough time to stop him. I didn't. He leaned in, and his lips touched mine gently, soft, tentative. He bit my lower lip and soothed it, slipped his tongue gently into my mouth, encouraging me to participate. The kiss deepened slowly while his hands travelled to my breasts and teased a n****e till it hardened to his touch.

When we finally pulled apart, my head felt light.

“Wow,” I murmured.

He smiled. I rested my head on his shoulder without thinking, and he wrapped an arm around me. The warmth from his body, the quiet room, the long day finally catching up to me… My eyes closed.

Sunlight spilled softly across the living room the next morning. I stirred slowly. For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was, then the faint scent of his cologne reached me, and his arm was no longer around me. The house was quiet. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. A folded blanket covered me, and I smiled slightly. He must have moved carefully not to wake me. I stood and stretched, the house looked different in daylight, warm sunlight filled the living room casting shadows along the floor. Curiosity tugged at me and I wandered the hallway, the study door was half open and inside shelves of medical textbooks lined the walls. The papers were neatly stacked on the desk, so I moved closer. One drawer on the desk was slightly open, the brown envelope inside caught my attention, I pulled the drawer open a little further and just as I reached for the envelope, the front door opened. Footsteps approached and a moment later Daniel walked in. His T-shirt was damp with sweat and his hair looked a bit messy from jogging. He was totally different from the Daniel I spent weeks trying not to admire. This version was softer, freer, more human.

“Good morning.” He stepped forward and pulled me closer to himself.

“You slept well?”

“Better than I expected.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

With a smile, he lifted me effortlessly into his arms and kissed me. The kiss this time wasn’t hesitant. It was warm, familiar, like we had crossed an invisible line overnight.

“You smell like sweat,” I whispered in his ears.

He laughed. “Honest as always.”

“Come on.”

“Where?”

“Shower.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“To wash off the sweat,” he said, amused.

The bathroom quickly filled with warm steam. Water ran over his shoulders as he pulled me closer, kissing me again. The moment was slow and unhurried, full of laughter and quiet touches. Time seemed to blur and the rest of the world faded as the warm water poured over us. Eventually we stepped out wrapped in towels, both slightly breathless.

“This is still a bad idea,” I said.

“Probably.”

“You don’t regret it?”

“Not even a little.”

For the first time since this started, I realized something. I didn’t regret it either but somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn't shake this unsettling feeling that lingered in my thoughts that he was hiding a secret that could change everything.