Episode 10
1000 Words
Finals were just days away .
Karla sat in the back row of the seminar hall, blinking through the late afternoon haze . Her notes looked like a foreign language . Diagrams blurred , and the caffeine she'd consumed wasn't helping anymore—it just made her heart race and her focus scatter .
And worse ?
Christopher was just there .
In front of the class . Existing . Breathing. Lecturing like the weeks of awkward silence between them hadn’t happened .
He stood behind the desk , white coat unbuttoned, his voice calm and even as he explained the case studies for tomorrow’s clinical rounds . Karla tried to avoid looking at him, but her eyes betrayed her—flicking up every few minutes , catching the curve of his jaw, the way he adjusted the projector, or the slight tiredness beneath his usually alert expression .
It was torture .
The kind where nothing happened but everything felt like it did .
She hadn’t spoken to him .
He hadn’t spoken to her .
And yet she thought of him constantly .
The memory of his voice calling her “Karls” in their late-night chats . The way he’d once replied to her story about a full moon with a dumb, “Bet it’s jealous of your glow .” She missed the ridiculousness . The warmth. The unexpected gentleness he hid behind teasing and ego .
Now, he only addressed her when absolutely necessary—like she was just another name on the attendance list. Another girl in the class .
But she wasn’t .
And he knew that .
That Thursday afternoon, after lectures had ended, Karla stayed behind in the empty auditorium, trying to make sense of the clinical case readings. Her head throbbed from overthinking—about everything but medicine .
The door creaked behind her, and she didn’t even need to turn .
She knew it was him .
Footsteps echoed down the aisle, deliberate but soft. He stopped beside her row, and for the first time in weeks, he spoke .
“Do you need help with the reading?”
His voice was low, careful. Professional .
Karla’s heart skipped—but her tone didn’t show it .
She looked up, forcing a small smile . “No, I’ve got it .”
Simple . Polite . Soft .
But inside , she was screaming .
That’s it ? After everything ? That’s how you break the silence ?
Christopher nodded , his face unreadable, and walked past her to the exit without another word .
Karla watched him go , the silence between them suddenly heavier than before . His words—though gentle—felt like a slap . They carried no emotion, no lingering concern , just a reminder of the new dynamic he’d chosen .
It irritated her .
It hurt her .
And still, she missed him .
That night , Karla tried to drown herself in revision . She opened her camera roll to snap a picture of her color-coded notes, almost sent it to him… but stopped .
No .
She wouldn’t be the one reaching out again . Not this time .
Instead, she posted it to her story with a sarcastic caption :
“ Me and my only love right now: reproductive pathologies . ”
She went to bed hoping he wouldn’t see it .
She woke up hoping he had .
Meanwhile, Christopher saw it .
He always did .
He stared at the post longer than he should have , lips twitching at the caption , heart aching at the familiar sass .
He wanted to swipe up . Say something . Joke. Flirt. Anything .
But he didn’t .
He couldn’t figure out what line he was allowed to cross anymore .
So he shut off his phone and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling of his cramped apartment , replaying her soft " No, I’ve got it " in his head . He couldn’t tell if she was angry … or just done trying .
The next day brought more near-misses .
In the clinical lab , Karla and Christopher were assigned to the same rotation group by sheer bad luck—or fate . He explained the pelvic model demonstration while Karla stood across the table , nodding along , refusing to meet his eyes . Once , their hands brushed over the same marker, and he quickly pulled his away .
Neither of them said a word .
Later, during lunch , he sat under the tree where they used to share quiet glances . But Karla didn’t look his way . She laughed too loudly at something Jenna said . She leaned into her friend like she was perfectly fine .
But Christopher’s eyes kept drifting to her .
Even when he didn’t mean them to .
Back in the staff room , his friend Armaan raised an eyebrow . “You going to keep pretending you don’t care about that girl ?”
Christopher sipped his coffee without answering .
“You could’ve just asked how she’s doing. You used to be smoother .”
Christopher stared at the floor. “I did ask,” he murmured . “She said she didn’t need help .”
“ Maybe that’s because you asked her like you were reviewing a chart .”
Christopher clenched his jaw . “ That’s the only way I’m allowed to ask .”
Armaan didn’t press .
Christopher didn’t admit what he really wanted to say :
I didn’t ask like her friend .
I asked like her professor .
Because I don’t trust myself if I ask like someone who misses her .
Karla knew she wouldn’t survive this tension forever.
But right now, she had exams to pass .
Even if her heart was failing every test he gave her without a word .
- Writer
