Episode 17
1216 Words
The hospital hallway was quiet , save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights . Karla sat alone on a bench outside the interns’ lounge , her phone clutched in her hand, her mind churning .
She had overheard it . The words she wished she hadn’t .
“ Dean almost threw Christopher out , ” one resident whispered to another . “ All because of that girl … Karla , right ? ”
“ She’s back now , ” the other muttered . “ Poor guy . Took the whole fall . Heard he got a warning letter and everything . ”
It hit Karla like a punch to the gut .
* Because of me . *
He hadn’t told her . He had stayed silent while the whole weight of the college bore down on him .
And yet , she remembered him just … vanishing . No texts . No likes . No comfort . Just absence . But now it made sense . He hadn’t been ignoring her . He was being punished — for her .
A sharp ache spread across her chest as she stood up and made her decision .
That night, Karla sent a text to her mother :
> * 36 - hour hospital shift . Might be unreachable . Don’t worry . *
Then she pulled on her hoodie , wrapped a scarf around her face , and slipped out through the back gate of the hostel .
She had one destination in mind .
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It was close to midnight when she reached the apartment complex she had once seen in Christopher's old snaps . She wasn't sure he still stayed there , but a mutual junior had casually mentioned seeing him enter the same building last week .
She buzzed the security .
“ Christopher Hale ? ” she asked softly .
The guard looked sleepy . “ Room 603 . But I think he’s not … okay . His friends dropped him off earlier . Looks completely out . ”
A lump formed in her throat .
She climbed the stairs two at a time .
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When she pushed the door open , the place was dimly lit , reeking of beer and something heavier — regret .
Empty bottles cluttered the living room table . The TV was on mute , flickering light across the walls . And there , slumped half - on , half - off the couch , was Christopher .
Karla stepped in slowly . Her heart clenched .
He looked nothing like the man who once teased her about suturing techniques and i********: filters . His eyes were half - shut , lips parted , breath shallow .
“ Christopher … ” she whispered , kneeling beside him .
He didn’t respond , just mumbled something incoherent .
Without thinking , she grabbed his arm and pulled . It took effort— he was tall and heavy with dead weight —but she managed to guide him toward the bedroom. Her doctor instincts kicked in . She steadied his steps , checked his pulse, made sure he wasn’t completely blacked out .
He collapsed onto the bed , his body limp .
She turned to adjust the pillows , but his hand caught her wrist .
“ Karla … ? ”
His voice was hoarse , raspy .
“ I’m here , ” she whispered .
He opened his eyes , glassy and slow to focus . But when they finally landed on her , a soft, almost disbelieving expression crossed his face .
“ You came … ”
Karla swallowed the lump in her throat . “ I heard what happened . ”
He gave a bitter laugh, turning his face into the pillow . “ You shouldn’t have . ”
“ I had to . ”
She brushed his hair back , his curls damp with sweat . For a moment , silence surrounded them , just the soft sound of their breathing .
Then he reached out again, this time slower, more aware . His fingers gently touched her arm , slid down until their hands met .
“ I missed you , ” he murmured .
Karla’s breath caught .
“ I missed * us * . ”
She didn’t know when she sat beside him , but she was close now . Their faces inches apart .
“ You never said anything , ” she whispered .
“ They made me sign a letter , ” he said , eyes shutting again . “ No contact . They threatened to call my PG supervisor … said I broke conduct … ”
“ I’m sorry , ” she said, eyes stinging . “ This is all my fault . ”
He shook his head . “ No . *I* knew better . I flirted . I got greedy . I crossed too many lines . ”
“ You were just kind , ” she whispered .
“Too kind,” he laughed bitterly. “Now look at me .”
His grip tightened on her hand. Their silence grew heavy, aching with words unspoken.
“You know,” he murmured, voice slurred but honest, “I’ve been trying to forget you. Going to parties. Hookups. Shots. Everything.”
Karla's throat closed. She didn’t want to hear this. Not now.
“But none of them felt like you,” he continued. “They didn’t laugh at my lame puns. Didn’t ask about my favorite delivery story. Didn’t smell like mango shampoo.”
She froze.
He leaned in closer.
“You smell like you,” he said, eyes fluttering open. “Like Karla.”
She should’ve stood up. Should’ve stopped the way their hands were brushing, the way his fingers were now tucked into the edge of her scarf, pulling it down slowly.
But she didn’t.
Their foreheads touched. His breath was warm on her lips. Her heart raced.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, brushing his nose against hers.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
His hand cupped her jaw, rough but careful. His lips ghosted over hers. A shiver ran through her, and her hand moved to his chest. His heartbeat pounded beneath her touch.
“I shouldn’t,” he said.
“We shouldn’t,” she echoed.
And yet, they didn’t pull away.
For one fleeting second, the entire world vanished. There was only this—the gravity between them, the ache, the confusion, the longing.
But just as they were about to cross that irreversible threshold—
A loud buzzing noise erupted from Christopher’s phone.
Reality returned like a slap.
Karla jerked back, eyes wide.
Christopher groaned, fumbling for the phone, then dropping it.
They sat in stunned silence.
Karla stood up, fixing her scarf.
“I should go,” she said softly.
He looked up at her, still dazed. “Karla…”
But she was already walking out, closing the door behind her.
Outside, the night was cold. Her legs felt weak, her heart heavier than ever.
They had danced too close to the fire.
And now, they’d both been burned.
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- Writer
