Blood of Hearts

Rain poured heavily over the city, covering the glowing lights of Parker Memorial Hospital in a silver haze. Ambulances screamed through the wet streets while doctors and nurses rushed through the emergency entrance carrying patients from a terrible highway accident. Inside the hospital, panic moved like wildfire. "We need another trauma surgeon in Operating Room Three!" a nurse shouted. "Where is Dr. Andrew Parker?" another voice asked. The name carried weight in the hospital. Andrew Parker was not just any surgeon. At thirty-two, he was already considered one of the best cardiothoracic surgeons in the country. Patients traveled from different cities just to have him perform surgery. Medical magazines praised his brilliance. Investors admired him. The hospital board treated him like royalty because Parker Memorial itself belonged to his family. But behind the polished reputation and expensive suits lived a secret that could destroy everything. Andrew Parker was terrified of blood. Not ordinary discomfort. Not nervousness. Real fear. The sight of excessive blood made his chest tighten, his breathing unstable, and his mind spiral into panic. Years of hiding the condition had forced him to become clever. He specialized in procedures where assistants handled most of the bleeding. He avoided trauma cases whenever possible. He controlled operating rooms with strict precision so nobody would notice his shaking hands. Tonight, however, control was slipping away. Andrew stood alone in his office on the top floor, staring at the emergency monitors through the glass wall. His jaw tightened as another patient was rushed in. The accident had overwhelmed the emergency department. He knew they needed him downstairs. But his legs refused to move. A knock sounded at the door. Without waiting for permission, Roy Parker stepped inside. Roy was tall, sharp-eyed, and carried the cold authority of a man who had spent decades building an empire. Even at sixty-five, he looked intimidating in his dark tailored suit. His expression hardened when he saw his son standing motionless. "You are hiding again," Roy said. Andrew turned away. "I'm reviewing reports." "Do not insult my intelligence." The silence between them grew tense. Roy walked toward the window and glanced at the chaos below. "Your surgeons are struggling. Patients are bleeding to death downstairs while the great Andrew Parker locks himself in an office." Andrew clenched his fists. "I said I am handling it." "Handling it?" Roy scoffed. "Your fear is becoming impossible to hide." Andrew's eyes darkened immediately. "Lower your voice." Roy stepped closer. "You think nobody notices how you avoid trauma surgeries? How do you suddenly become unavailable during emergencies? Sooner or later the board will question your competence." Andrew hated hearing the truth spoken aloud. For years he had buried the fear deep inside himself, pretending it did not exist. But Roy never ignored weakness. "I built this hospital from nothing," Roy continued. "One day it will belong to you. But if you cannot control yourself, everything I worked for will collapse." Andrew finally looked at his father. "What do you want from me?" Roy reached into his coat pocket and placed a file on the desk. "Her name is Aria Smith." Andrew frowned. "A therapist?" "One of the best trauma specialists in the country. She has treated soldiers, surgeons, and patients with severe phobias." Andrew laughed bitterly. "You hired me a therapist?" "I hired someone to save your future." Andrew pushed the file away. "I don't need saving." Roy's voice turned dangerously calm. "You nearly fainted during surgery last month. Another incident like that and the board will destroy you." Andrew froze. Nobody was supposed to know. Roy watched him carefully. "She starts tomorrow morning." "No." "This is not a discussion." Andrew slammed his hand against the desk. "I said no!" The anger in his voice echoed through the office. But Roy remained unmoved. "You can either cooperate willingly or lose your position as head surgeon." Andrew stared at his father in disbelief. "You would humiliate your own son?" Roy sighed heavily. "I would do whatever is necessary to protect this hospital." Without another word, Roy turned and left. Andrew stood alone in silence. Then, slowly, he opened the file. A photograph slipped onto the desk. Aria Smith. She looked younger than he expected. Long dark hair framed intelligent brown eyes filled with quiet confidence. Her smile was calm and natural, unlike the artificial expressions of most people around her. Andrew stared at the picture longer than he intended. Then he closed the file sharply. He already hated her. ... The next morning, sunlight spread across the hospital lobby as doctors hurried between elevators. Aria Smith entered Parker Memorial carrying only a leather bag and a folder of notes. The moment she stepped inside, she noticed the tension. The hospital looked beautiful from the outside, but inside it felt cold. Everyone moved carefully, almost fearfully. As she approached the reception desk, two nurses nearby whispered. "That's her." "The therapist Mr. Parker hired." "Good luck dealing with Dr. Andrew." Aria smiled politely. "I'm looking for Dr. Parker's office." The receptionist pointed toward the private elevators. "Top floor. But maybe wait until his mood improves." "Does he usually have a bad mood?" The receptionist laughed nervously. "Usually? Always." Aria thanked her and stepped into the elevator. As the doors closed, she reviewed the file in her hands. Andrew Parker. Decorated surgeon. Hospital heir. Exceptional academic history. Hidden trauma symptoms. Roy Parker had explained everything during their phone conversation except the reason behind Andrew's fear. That missing piece interested her most. Fear always had a beginning. The elevator doors opened. Aria walked into a luxurious hallway leading directly to Andrew's office. Before she could knock, the door opened suddenly. Andrew stepped out while adjusting his watch. He stopped immediately when he saw her. His expression became guarded. "You're Aria Smith." "And you're avoiding eye contact already," she replied calmly. That surprised him. Most people became nervous around him. She did not. Andrew crossed his arms. "I don't need therapy." "Then this should be easy for you." His eyes narrowed. "My father enjoys controlling people. Don't mistake this arrangement for cooperation." Aria remained composed. "I didn't come here for your father." "Then why did you come?" She studied him carefully. For a moment, she saw beyond the arrogance. His posture was tense. His eyes carried exhaustion. There was loneliness hidden beneath his confidence. "Because somewhere inside you," she said softly, "there's a man who is tired of being afraid." Andrew immediately looked away. The words hit too close. "You know nothing about me," he muttered. Aria stepped aside as doctors passed through the hallway. "Maybe not yet. But I know fear doesn't disappear simply because you ignore it." Andrew suddenly smiled. Not warmly. Coldly. "Tell me something, Ms. Smith. Have you ever watched someone die because you failed them?" The question caught her off guard. His expression darkened. "No? Then don't pretend you understand my life." Before she could answer, a nurse rushed toward them. "Dr. Parker, emergency consultation in the ICU." Andrew nodded immediately. Then he looked back at Aria. "Stay out of my way." He walked off without another word. Aria watched him disappear down the hallway. Most therapists would call him difficult. She saw something different. A man drowning quietly. ... Hours later, Aria sat inside a small observation room reviewing patient reports connected to Andrew's past cases. Patterns quickly became obvious. He avoided surgeries involving severe trauma. He delegated difficult emergency procedures. He became unusually aggressive whenever questioned. Classic avoidance behavior. But what caused it? As she continued reading, the door opened. A blonde woman entered confidently wearing a white coat. "So you're the famous therapist," the woman said. Aria stood politely. "Aria Smith." "Dr. Rebecca Blackwell." Rebecca smiled, but the warmth did not reach her eyes. She glanced at the files. "Trying to fix Andrew Parker?" "Trying to help him." Rebecca laughed lightly. "Good luck. Andrew doesn't trust people. Especially outsiders." Aria noticed the possessiveness in her tone immediately. "You've known him a long time?" "Long enough to know he hates being analyzed." Rebecca stepped closer. "If I were you, I'd leave before this hospital destroys your career." The warning sounded personal. Aria smiled calmly. "I don't scare easily." Rebecca's expression sharpened slightly. "You should." Then she walked out. Aria leaned back slowly. Interesting. There was more happening inside Parker Memorial than medical emergencies. Power. Control. Secrets. And somehow, all of them revolved around Andrew Parker. ... Late that night, Andrew finally returned to his office. The hospital had quieted, though distant monitors still echoed faintly through the halls. He loosened his tie and sat heavily at his desk. Then he noticed a cup of coffee waiting beside a stack of organized patient notes. A small handwritten message rested underneath. You skipped lunch. Fear weakens the body faster than exhaustion. Try eating tomorrow. -Aria Andrew stared at the note. Nobody spoke to him that way. Not with pity. Not with fear. Just honesty. For reasons he could not explain, he folded the note carefully instead of throwing it away. Outside the office window, rain began falling once again. And for the first time in years, Andrew Parker wondered if someone might finally see the parts of him he had spent his whole life hiding. The thought terrified him far more than blood ever had.