Chapter 22: Jude
1496 Words
People always said healing happened slowly.I never understood what they meant until Adrian and I found our way back to each other.It wasn’t one grand apology that fixed us.It was a hundred tiny moments.
A forehead kiss before work.
His hand finding mine while we watched television.
The way he still insisted on making my coffee every morning, even though I reminded him—daily—that I was perfectly capable of doing it myself.
“You are,” he’d reply.
“But I like doing it.”
Somehow…
That became enough.
The shadows from that terrible night hadn’t disappeared.
They’d simply become quieter.
Less frightening.
Instead of avoiding difficult conversations, we had begun having them.
Instead of assuming, we asked.
Instead of silence…
There were words.
It wasn’t perfect.
It was real.
And I loved it.
⸻
“Don’t skip lunch.”
Adrian’s voice followed me all the way to the front door.
“I won’t.”
“You said that yesterday.”
“I was busy.”
“You forgot.”
“I remembered eventually.”
He folded his arms.
“At four in the afternoon.”
“I still ate.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“I packed your lunch.”
I smiled despite myself.
“I know.”
“You’ll send me a picture when you eat it.”
“…You’re negotiating now?”
“I’m making reasonable requests.”
“You are impossible.”
He stepped closer, straightening my tie with unnecessary concentration.
“There.”
“It wasn’t crooked.”
“It was.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It bothered me.”
I laughed softly.
“You worry too much.”
“I worry exactly the right amount.”
Then he kissed my forehead.
“Have a good day, sweetheart.”
“You too.”
I left the house smiling.
Just like I had every morning for the past few weeks.
Things really were getting better.
⸻
The hospital smelled exactly as it always did.
Fresh coffee.
Disinfectant.
Long hours.
Controlled chaos.
I had barely stepped into the consultants’ lounge when one of my colleagues looked up.
“Morning, Jude.”
“Morning.”
“Oh, did you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“We’ve got a new neurologist joining today.”
I shrugged.
“That’s good.”
“They transferred him from St. Mary’s.”
I reached for the kettle.
“Apparently he’s brilliant.”
“That’s great.”
“They said his name is Damian.”
…
The mug slipped slightly in my hand.
“…Damian?”
“Yeah.”
I turned slowly.
“What did you say his surname was?”
When she answered…
My stomach dropped.
No.
No, no, no.
It couldn’t be—
“Jude?”
A familiar voice called from the doorway.
I looked up.
Damian stood there in a white coat, looking just as surprised as I felt.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then his face broke into a smile.
“Well… I definitely wasn’t expecting this.”
I managed a weak smile.
“Neither was I.”
He walked over, extending a hand instead of offering a hug.
The small gesture didn’t escape me.
Perhaps he’d noticed my hesitation at the gala.
Or perhaps he was simply being professional.
Either way…
I was grateful.
“It’s good to see you.”
“You too.”
“I had no idea you worked here.”
“I didn’t know you were transferring.”
He laughed.
“Seems we’re both full of surprises.”
“Apparently.”
The conversation lasted less than two minutes.
Just polite questions.
How have you been?
How’s work?
Are you settling in?
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
When one of the senior consultants called Damian away, I released a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding.
⸻
The rest of the morning…
I couldn’t concentrate.
Every time I walked through the corridors, I found myself checking who was around.
Not because of Damian.
Because of the memory he’d accidentally awakened.
The ballroom.
Adrian’s face.
The drive home.
The tears.
I rubbed my forehead.
You’re overthinking.
Aren’t you?
I wasn’t even in the same department.
Cardiology occupied the east wing.
Neurology worked almost entirely on the fourth floor.
We’d barely cross paths.
It was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
So…
Why did my chest feel so tight?
⸻
Around lunchtime, my phone buzzed.
Adrian
My heart softened instantly.
Lunch.
One word.
Typical.
I smiled despite myself and opened my lunchbox.
He’d cut my sandwich into neat triangles.
Again.
There was even a little note tucked inside.
No excuses today.
I laughed quietly.
Then sent him exactly what he’d requested.
A photograph of the empty lunchroom table.
My lunch.
A thumbs-up.
His reply arrived almost immediately.
Good.
A few seconds later…
A proud alpha.
I rolled my eyes affectionately.
You’re ridiculous.
Hopelessly.
I stared at the conversation.
My fingers hovered above the keyboard.
Something happened today…
I typed it.
Then deleted it.
Typed again.
Guess who transferred to our hospital.
Deleted.
Again.
My heartbeat sped up.
Should I tell him?
Shouldn’t I?
He’d asked us to be honest.
We promised.
No secrets.
No assumptions.
No fear.
So why couldn’t I press send?
Because another voice whispered inside my head.
What if he thinks you’re hiding something?
But I wouldn’t be hiding it forever.
I just…
Wanted to find the right moment.
Didn’t I?
Or…
Was I simply afraid?
⸻
The afternoon passed in fragments.
At one point, I nearly collided with Damian outside Radiology.
“Whoa.”
He steadied the file slipping from my hands.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“I’m just tired.”
“You seem… distracted.”
“I’m fine.”
He looked unconvinced.
“If you ever need coffee, let me know.”
I smiled politely.
“Thanks.”
He headed toward Neurology.
I headed in the opposite direction.
But even after he’d disappeared around the corner…
My shoulders remained tense.
⸻
What if Adrian came to surprise me at work?
He’d done it before.
What if he saw us talking?
What if someone casually mentioned we’d known each other for years?
Would he think I’d hidden it deliberately?
Would he remember the ballroom?
Would all those fears return?
No.
He trusted me now.
Didn’t he?
He said he did.
I believed him.
So why was I scared?
Because trust had been rebuilt.
Carefully.
Tenderly.
Brick by brick.
And I couldn’t bear the thought of watching those bricks tumble down again.
⸻
Driving home, my thoughts became louder.
Tell him tonight.
No.
Tomorrow.
Maybe after dinner.
Maybe once Damian had settled into the hospital.
Maybe…
Maybe it wasn’t important enough to mention.
After all…
We weren’t working together.
We weren’t even friends anymore.
Just former classmates who happened to work in the same hospital.
That wasn’t a secret.
It was just…
Unnecessary information.
Wasn’t it?
The harder I tried to convince myself, the less convincing it sounded.
⸻
That evening, Adrian greeted me exactly as he always did.
He met me at the front door.
Took my bag.
Kissed my forehead.
“Long day?”
I smiled.
“It was busy.”
He brushed his thumb across my cheek.
“You look exhausted.”
“I’ll survive.”
“I made your favourite pasta.”
My heart squeezed.
He’d remembered.
Again.
Dinner was peaceful.
He told me about a difficult negotiation.
I told him about a complicated patient.
We laughed.
We teased each other.
Everything felt…
Normal.
Safe.
Exactly what I’d wanted.
More than once, I almost spoke.
Adrian…
But the words never came.
Every time I looked into his eyes, I remembered the fear that had lived there weeks ago.
The fear that had somehow become my own.
What if telling him reopened an old wound?
What if not telling him created a new one?
I hated that there seemed to be no right answer.
⸻
Later that night, I lay awake beside him.
Adrian was already asleep, one arm draped loosely around my waist, his breathing slow and even.
Even in sleep…
He reached for me.
As though some part of him always needed to know I was close.
I turned my head to look at him.
He looked peaceful.
Nothing like the man who had stood trembling with jealousy that night after the gala.
Nothing like the man who had cried while apologising for hurting me.
Just…
My Adrian.
The man I loved.
I gently intertwined our fingers beneath the blanket.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered so quietly that only the darkness could hear.
“I don’t want to lie to you either.”
The words settled heavily in my chest.
Tomorrow.
I’d tell him tomorrow.
I had to.
Because keeping quiet wasn’t protecting our relationship anymore.
It was protecting my fear.
And fear, I was slowly learning, had a way of growing louder every time it was left in the dark.
- Writer
