YOU ARE MY LIGHT

CHAPTER 20 : THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US

Even after leaving the cafeteria, I could still feel the warmth of his hand lingering on mine.

It shouldn’t have meant anything.

It was just a hand.

But it did mean something.

A small, dangerous something.

“Oh my God!” Joy exhaled dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Girl, I couldn’t breathe back there. I nearly fainted!”

Miriam chuckled, rubbing her throat.

“The moment Ms. Dora said, ‘Vincent, I’ve been looking everywhere for you… you brought my favorite food,’ that chicken wing refused to go down. I swear it stuck in my throat.”

Joy burst into laughter, but there was something sharper beneath it.

“Ms. Dora really made it clear she owns Mr. Vincent.”

“I think she sees Juliet as a rival,” Miriam added.

I barely heard them.

My mind was still stuck in that moment.

The way he looked at me.

The way he held my hand.

Not tightly… not possessively… but firmly.

As if saying: I won’t let you fall.

“Juliet… Juliet!”

“Huh?” I blinked.

“Yes?”

“Miriam said Ms. Dora might see you as a rival.”

“What… why would she think that?” I asked quickly, pretending confusion.

“Girl, because Mr. Vincent’s eyes were on you the whole time,” Miriam said, squeezing my shoulder.

“And the way he grabbed your hand—” Joy mimicked his voice.

“Leave it. I’ll do it.”

She dramatically pretended to faint.

“It was so protective… so…” She searched for the right word.

“Real.”

Miriam nodded.

“Yes. Did you notice how his voice changed when he spoke to you? It was softer. Different.”

My chest tightened.

I wanted to dismiss it.

To say it meant nothing.

He was just a doctor.

A professional.

Nothing more.

But the truth sat heavy in my throat.

If it meant nothing…

why couldn’t I stop thinking about it?

“Juliet,” Joy said, raising her hand like a speech.

“We are rooting for you. If you can get that man—please do.”

I forced a laugh.

“You two are misunderstanding things. He was just being a good doctor.”

Miriam tilted her head.

“If that’s all it was… then he didn’t have to hold your hand.”

I stayed silent.

Because she was right.

He didn’t have to.

He could have spoken.

He could have given instructions.

Instead, he touched me.

A small gesture.

But it reached places inside me I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“It’s one of two things,” Joy declared.

“Either Mr. Vincent likes you… or he has issues with Dora and wanted to use you to make her jealous.”

Her words echoed.

Like a bell I couldn’t unhear.

Which one was it?

I silently prayed it wasn’t the second.

Because if it was…

that meant I was nothing more than a tool.

A temporary advantage in a silent war I didn’t even understand.

***

When we returned to the nurses’ quarters, Miriam collapsed into my chair dramatically.

“We didn’t even enjoy lunch because of all that drama.”

“And we still have thirty minutes before break ends,” Joy added, rummaging through her drawer.

“I’m hungry again. I couldn’t eat properly.”

The head nurse walked in.

“Hello, girls. How was lunch?”

“Peaceful… at least,” Joy replied, chewing on a snack.

“I have an announcement,” the head nurse continued, glancing around the room.

“Ms. Dora will be staying here with you from tomorrow.”

The room went still.

“What?!” Joy blurted.

“I thought she had her own office,” Miriam said.

“Yes,” the head nurse replied.

“But she wants to work with everyone. To get to know you all better.”

My stomach tightened.

Get to know us? Or me?

A small, uneasy voice whispered inside me: This is the beginning of something.

Joy glanced at me, but I pretended not to notice.

“Please make space for her,” the head nurse said.

“Juliet, I see an empty desk beside you. She can sit there.”

I nodded.

“No, ma,” Joy quickly said.

“I’ll sit beside Juliet. Ms. Dora can take my desk.”

I understood why she said it.

Joy was protecting me. Like she always did.

“Alright then,” the head nurse replied.

“Focus on your work.”

“Yes, ma.”

After she left, Joy moved her things to the desk beside mine.

Miriam rolled closer and whispered, “I can smell trouble coming.”

She wasn’t wrong.

I could feel it too.

Something was shifting.

Quietly.

Unseen.

Like the first signs of a storm.

That night at home, I couldn’t stop thinking.

What if Joy was right?

What if Mr. Vincent had used me?

To make Dora jealous?

The idea twisted inside me.

But another voice argued:

He’s getting engaged.

He doesn’t need to use anyone.

So why did he hold my hand?

Why did he look at me like that?

I groaned and buried my face in the pillow.

“How am I supposed to face my crush’s girlfriend tomorrow?”

The word girlfriend hurt.

Not because it was new.

But knowing it and feeling it were different things.

The next morning, I arrived early.

Too early.

I busied myself with files and early patients, anything to distract my thoughts.

Joy arrived soon after.

“Wow,” she teased.

“You’re early. Excited to meet your rival?”

I quickly shushed her.

“Don’t say that.”

She laughed softly.

“Relax. I was joking. But you do look tense.”

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I focused on arranging papers.

Dora would sit in front of me.

Close enough to see.

Far enough to hide what I felt.

A few minutes later, Miriam arrived.

“Hello girls! Am I late? Everyone’s here already.”

Then we heard heels.

Sharp.

Confident.

Dora walked in wearing a classy short dress.

My heart reacted before my mind could.

A small skip.

A quiet breath.

She’s here.

“Hiii!” she greeted, holding up a bag.

“I brought coffee.”

Joy leaned toward me.

“She really is beautiful.”

Dora smiled warmly.

“I’ll be working with you all, so I brought coffee as a peace offering.”

Her eyes settled on me.

Not aggressively.

Not challengingly.

But with intent.

As if she wanted me to see her.

To understand her.

“Juliet,” she said.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Vincent. He always speaks highly of your work.”

She smiled.

“I hope we can get to know each other. And become friends.”

The room went quiet.

Friends.

The word echoed in my head.

Why would she want that?

I forced a polite smile and extended my hand.

“Welcome, Ms. Dora.”

Instead of shaking it—she hugged me.

“Thank you, Juliet.”

My body froze.

I hadn’t expected it.

The warmth of the hug should have been comforting.

Instead, it felt… rehearsed.

Like something meant to be seen.

“We’ll work well together,” she said, holding my shoulders gently.

Her expression was friendly. Too friendly. Like a mask.

I couldn’t read what lay beneath it.

This wasn’t what I expected.

Anger. Accusations.

A quiet rivalry.

But not this.

Then the head nurse arrived.

“Ms. Dora, you’re here!”

“Yes, ma.”

“They prepared a desk for you.”

“Oh, I hope it’s the one near Juliet.”

“It is.”

She smiled brightly.

“Perfect. I will be going to meet Vincent,” she said.

“Okay, I’m going out too,” the head nurse said.

As they left, I leaned on my desk.

His name sounded so intimate in her mouth.

Later that day, Vincent and Dora were in surgery for hours.

Together.

Not with me.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

I told myself that.

Repeated it like a prayer.

But it still hurt.

A dull ache.

Quiet but persistent.

When my shift ended, I didn’t go home.

I lingered.

Busying myself with small tasks.

Anything to delay facing the emptiness.

Dora returned eventually.

“Oh God, I’m exhausted.”

“How was the surgery?” I asked.

“It went well,” she replied.

“But Vincent looks tired. Really tired.”

My heart stirred.

“I’ll bring him dinner later.”

The words came casually.

Too casually.

As if it were normal.

I nearly forgot my place.

I nodded.

***

Days passed...

The hospital routine continued.

Dora and I became… close.

Not friends exactly.

Not enemies.

Something in between.

A fragile balance.

But I didn’t understand it.

The closeness felt rehearsed.

Like actors sharing a stage.

Smiling. Speaking.

Never revealing the truth.

One afternoon, I went to make coffee.

The accident happened in seconds.

I bumped into Dora.

Hot liquid splashed.

The cup shattered.

A sharp pain flared across my hand.

“Ah!” I gasped.

“Oh Juliet! I’m so sorry!”

Then I heard footsteps rushing toward me.

A hand suddenly grabbed mine.

“Juliet! Are you okay?”

The voice sounded very familiar.

I looked at the hand holding mine, then slowly lifted my gaze to the face.

It was Mr. Vincent.

He quickly placed the coffee cup he was holding on the table beside us, then held my hand with both of his.

“Let me see,” he said, gently examining the burn.

Concern. Real concern.

He didn’t glance at Dora. Not once.

He held my hand gently, blowing cool air over the burn as if the pain were his to fix.

His fingers were gentle, almost too careful, as if he was afraid of hurting me again.

The gesture was small.

But it reached me.

Deeply.

“Wait,” he said suddenly.

Then he hurried away, the way he always did when he worried about a patient.

When he returned, he carried ice and a handkerchief.

“Juliet, are you okay?” he asked, holding both of my hands as he pressed the ice gently against the burn.

Tears blurred my vision.

Not because it hurt.

But because I felt too much.

Confusion.

Longing.

Guilt.

I noticed Dora standing nearby. Watching.

I slowly pulled my hand away.

“I’m fine, Mr. Vincent.”

It came out quickly. Too quickly.

“It’s Dora you should check.”

He turned to her.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she replied calmly.

“Nothing happened to me. Juliet is the one who got hurt.”

He looked at me again.

Something lingered in his gaze.

Unspoken.

But I couldn’t stay.

I walked away before my emotions betrayed me.

***

At my desk, I arranged papers I didn’t need to arrange.

Busy hands. Quiet thoughts.

The memory of his touch remained.

Warm. Lingering.

I stared at my burned hand.

The place he had held.

It still felt… significant.

It should have been nothing.

A medical reaction. A moment of care.

But it wasn’t nothing.

Because for a second…

I wanted it to mean something.

Not love. Not promises.

Just proof that I mattered in that moment.

But I reminded myself:

He is not mine.

He never will be.

And even if I wished otherwise—

wishes do not rewrite reality.

Dora approached.

“Juliet… are you okay? I’m really sorry.”

She touched my hand gently.

Her expression looked sympathetic.

But something behind it felt rehearsed.

Like a performance.

“I’m fine, Ms. Dora,” I replied.

She smiled.

“Mr. Vincent really cares about his staff,” she said softly.

I understood the message.

Don’t read into it. Don’t imagine things.

“I know,” I said politely.

“You should be more careful next time,” she added.

“You might make people worry. You made me worried, Juliet.”

The words sounded kind.

But there was an edge.

A subtle reminder.

I nodded.

“I’m sorry if I worried anyone.”

Her smile flickered.

Just for a second.

Then it returned.

“Good, Juliet."

Joy arrived moments later.

“Juliet!” she exclaimed.

“What happened?”

Before I could answer—

“She bumped into me yesterday,” Dora said calmly.

“The coffee spilled.”

Joy looked at me.

Her eyes asked the question.

Is that the whole truth?

I nodded.

Joy sighed.

“We need to be careful. Our hands are important.”

Dora smiled politely.

“I’m really sorry, Juliet.”

Her voice sounded sincere.

But something in her eyes lingered.

A subtle unreadability.

As if she were playing a role.

And behind that carefully measured smile, I sensed something… dangerous. Something I wasn’t sure I could face.