Line we shouldn't cross

Episode 6

The hospital corridors looked the same, but something felt different.

Karla walked back into the OB-GYN wing with a quiet hope tugging at her chest, only to find out from the rotation schedule that Dr. Christopher Hale wouldn’t be holding lectures this week. He was caught up with postgraduate exams and ward duties, which meant... nothing. No lectures. No casual hallway glances. No reason to run into him.

And worse—no messages.

Not even a “Back on campus?” or “How was break?”

She hadn’t messaged him either. Out of pride. Out of fear. Out of that ridiculous ache in her chest that she was still trying to bury.

But her phone—it hadn’t moved on. Not really.

At lunch, as her classmates laughed around the table, Karla sat quietly, refreshing i********: out of habit. The familiar ache hit when she saw his name at the top of her feed.

@doc.hale : “Post-shift beers with the boys. Epi(dural) exhaustion.”

The caption was as smug and punny as ever, paired with a story of him in a bar, drink in hand, sleeves rolled up, surrounded by two other PG residents. One of them threw an arm around his shoulder as they toasted toward the camera.

Karla’s thumb hovered over the screen.

She hated that she remembered what his arms felt like when they brushed hers during clinical rounds.

She hated that she could still hear his laugh when she read his captions.

But most of all—she hated that the list of followers on his profile kept growing.

She noticed familiar names. Girls from college. Classmates. Even juniors. All following him. Some liking every post. Some dropping fire emojis or cheeky comments.

Her stomach twisted. Was he like this with them too? Did he send them late-night texts, laugh at their jokes, call them “trouble” the way he did with her?

Her mind kept drifting back to that night during the break. When the conversation had turned playful. Sweet. Intimate in a way that still clung to her ribs.

Flashback: Winter Break – 12:38 AM

Karla :

“Let’s play a game. I ask, you answer. And vice versa.”

Christopher :

“Truth or dare, text edition?”

Karla :

" Yeaa sort of ... "

Christopher :

“Truth only. I’m too old for dares. Go first .”

Karla :

“ Fine. Who was your first crush ? ”

Christopher :

“Miss Olivia, my kindergarten teacher. She gave me extra stickers and ruined me forever.”

Karla :

“Classic. Okay, your turn. ”

Christopher:

“Who’s your current crush?”

She remembered biting her lip before typing.

Karla:

“That’s classified information.”

Christopher :

“That’s not how the game works, Dr. Smith .”

Karla :

“Alright… He’s charming. Annoyingly smart. Has a thing for coffee and OB-GYN puns.”

Christopher:

“Hmmm. Sounds like a narcissist.”

Karla:

“Yeah, unfortunately I have a type.”

He didn’t respond for two minutes.

Then:

Christopher:

“Your turn again.”

She never knew what that pause had meant. Regret? Guilt? Or something else?

next day of winter break same pattern goes,

Winter Break – 1:07 AM

The night was quiet, and the screen’s light cast a soft glow over Karla’s face as she lay in bed, headphones in, heart racing just slightly faster than normal.

Their game had stretched into a series of questions that moved from lighthearted to dangerously intimate. Karla could tell they were both inching toward truths neither of them usually shared.

Christopher:

“Alright, next one. What’s your biggest regret?”

She stared at the message for a second. That one landed deeper than expected.

Karla:

“Hmm. Maybe not speaking up when it really mattered. Letting people guess what I felt instead of just saying it.”

Christopher:

“Heavy.”

Karla:

“Well, you asked.”

“Your turn. Same question.”

There was a pause. Then three dots blinking. Then nothing.

Finally:

Christopher:

“I cheated on someone I was dating. Years ago. We were together for a while. She didn’t deserve it.”

Karla sat up in bed, a strange tightness in her chest. She hadn’t expected that answer. She wasn’t sure what she expected—but not something so raw. So human.

Karla:

“Why?”

Christopher:

“Because I was an i***t. I think part of me liked being wanted by someone else. That ego rush. I don’t know. I hated myself after.”

There was silence between them for a few minutes. It felt… real. Like the kind of pause that sits between two people unsure of what to do with a truth that’s too big to ignore.

Karla’s thumbs hovered over the screen. Her heart had softened for him—but also flinched. She could almost see him: alone in his room, eyes tired, words typed too fast, or maybe too slowly.

But then—he broke the silence.

Christopher:

“Okay, new question. Let’s lighten this up before we both cry into our pillows.”

“Can you guess my body count?”

Karla blinked, actually laughing out loud.

Karla:

“Wow. Smooth transition, Dr. Hale.”

Christopher:

“Balance, Karla. Emotional damage and flirty banter. It’s a skill.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself.

Karla:

“Okay. I’m guessing… 5? No—6. You give off ex-playboy energy. But like, soft-reformed playboy now.”

Christopher:

“Interesting.”

Karla:

“Wait—you’re not gonna say if I’m right?”

Christopher:

“Nope.”

Karla:

“You’re the worst.”

Christopher:

“But you keep playing the game.”

Karla put her phone down, heart annoyingly fluttery. His voice echoed in her head even without a voice note. He always did this—offered just enough to keep her wondering, always holding something back, never giving away the whole picture.

And still… she kept playing.

End of Flashback

Back in the present, Karla locked her phone and stuffed it deep in her coat pocket. The sound of her classmates chatting blurred into the background.

She didn’t need him to message her. She didn’t need him to explain anything.

But still—something in her wanted to ask: Was it just a game to him? Did he ask other girls those same questions ?

That night, she scrolled through her own archive—past chats, snaps, a voice note of him half-asleep complaining about a 3 a.m. delivery. Every interaction carved into her memory like a scar that hadn’t fully healed .

She missed him . Not just the idea of him . But him . The version of him that felt real when they weren’t pretending not to care .

But now — he felt distant . Untouchable . Like maybe she had imagined the closeness in her head .

She opened his profile again , just to check . Another story .

A meme . Something dumb about birth control and paperwork . Another girl from their batch had replied with a laughing emoji .

Karla’s finger hovered over the “ Unfollow ” button .

But she didn’t press it .

Not yet .

Karla sat on her bed, staring at her dark screen. Suddenly she remembered , one night they were talking deeply and he ended the chat saying that ,

“ Sleep tight , Karla . Try not to overthink me tonight . ”

She hadn't answered . She had stared at that message until she drifted off .

But here she was . Weeks later . Still overthinking him .

Still trying to guess—what was true ? And what was just a game ?