Winning Isn’t Always the Point
1055 Words
The afternoon felt ordinary enough. Another suturing workshop in the skills lab, chart reviews, and wrestling with a stubborn IV line that took three tries. Jack refused to give in until he got it, patient veins be damned.
By 3:30, everything slowed to that weird, quiet stretch before the evening chaos kicked in. Jack headed back from the supply room on the second floor. As he came up the corridor on three the dull end of the east wing he spotted Asher up ahead, slipping into the supply closet without looking back.
Jack glanced up and down the empty hallway. He followed.
The closet wasn’t built for comfort just a pair of shelves, a dented cart full of supplies, and a single humming overhead light.
Asher stood hunched over a tablet, scrolling inventory lists. He didn’t bother turning when Jack stepped in and let the door clunk shut behind him.
“We’re low on 18-gauge needles,” Asher said, flat. “Put in a requisition before your shift ends.”
“You deleted your profile.”
“I deleted the app.” He kept his back turned. “That’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?”
That finally got Asher’s attention. He set the tablet on the cart and turned around. Just the same closed-off expression Jack had seen all day. Calm, unreadable. Not even a blip.
“What do you want, Dr. Harper?”
Jack leaned against the door, as if he belonged there. “I want to know why you didn’t say anything. We didn’t promise each other anything—it’s just that I turned around and you were gone.”
“I warned you last night how this would go.”
“You told me you wouldn’t let it happen again, not that you’d shut me out completely.”
“I don’t need to explain.”
Jack shrugged. “You don’t. It’s just—rude, honestly.”
Asher’s eyes narrowed, just a flash. He picked up the tablet again. “Is that it?”
“You didn’t even look at me this morning.”
“I called on you twice.”
“You called on everyone twice. But you actually looked at everyone else. You looked at charts, monitors, the window—hell, you even watched Mrs. Park’s television. Never once looked at me.”
He paused, let it hang.
“I’m not saying it matters. Just pointing it out.”
Asher didn’t look amused. “What exactly do you want from me?”
“Nothing. Not asking for anything.” Jack stepped forward, unbothered. “Just letting you know—pretending I don’t exist? Not going to work.”
“That’s called professionalism.”
“That’s called pretending.” Jack smiled. “And if you have to try this hard to pretend, you’re not as unaffected as you want to be.”
Asher’s jaw clenched. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Jack looked right at him. “Last night was what it was. Fine. But you don’t just drop me out of nowhere. That’s not how people work.”
“There’s nothing here that—”
“Okay,” Jack broke in, quietly.
Asher stopped mid-sentence.
“I said okay.” Jack moved back to the door. “You’re clear about how you want things. Now you know how I see it.” He grabbed the handle. “I’ll submit the needle order.”
He walked out.
Asher stayed behind, tablet clutched in one hand, supplies forgotten. The overhead light buzzed. He pressed his fingers to his nose and let himself breathe for a second.
Jack got home right at seven.
His grandma, Marlene, was at the stove, humming as garlic and ginger sizzled in a pan older than him. The whole place had that warm, easy smell—felt like the only corner of the world he’d ever let himself relax.
“You’re late,” she called, not looking back.
“Five minutes.”
“Late is late.” She jabbed her spatula at the table. “Sit.”
Jack dropped his bag and did as told.
She handed him a plate rice, quick veggies, strips of chicken then sat with her mug of tea across from him, studying his face as he started to eat.
“Long day?”
He chewed and shrugged. “Medium day,” he said. It tasted like always. Like home.
She just watched him, both hands wrapped around her mug, wearing that look that saw right through him.
“Something’s on your mind.”
“I’m fine, Gran.”
“I know you’re fine. I’m asking what’s bothering you.”
Jack poked at his food. “There’s this doctor where I work.”
Marlene didn’t blink.
“He’s… the kind of guy who just decides how things go. Makes decisions for everyone else. Doesn’t ask first.”
She grunted, soft.
“And it’s irritating.”
“I bet.”
“That’s all,” Jack said, for her sake. “Just irritating.”
She eyed him over her mug it was that old, knowing look. “Just irritating?”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing else going on?”
He shook his head. “Nothing else.”
She nodded, sipped her tea slow. “Alright, baby.” And that was enough; she let it go.
The two of them ate in easy silence. The TV murmured somewhere in the apartment. Somewhere, a dog barked. All those little sounds that had kept him steady through every rough patch.
After dinner, Jack ended up staring at his own ceiling.
The app was gone. His number was only for the hospital now. No way back to Asher outside of work—and at work, Asher seemed determined to act like Jack didn’t exist.
He closed his eyes. Fine.
Asher could erase every reminder, keep his guard up, pretend last night was nothing but a glitch in a perfect, controlled life.
But Jack wasn’t stupid. He’d seen Asher’s hands shaking. He remembered the way his breath caught.
He knew what lived beneath that calm exterior. And right now, it wasn’t about feelings or wanting more or anything complicated.
It was simple.
Asher thought he’d already won.
Jack had never, in his whole life, walked away from someone so sure they’d already won.
He shut his eyes. Sleep came fast.
- Writer
