Love in labcoats

CASE FILE 04

Silvia’s POV

5:58 a.m.

I was standing outside Dr. Mavis Xavier Quill’s office holding a coffee I didn’t even like. At least I got mine too because waking up by 3: 00 a.m. should honestly be considered a human rights violation.

The corridor was almost empty, the kind of hospital quiet that felt temporary, as if the building was taking one last breath before the chaos of the day began. Soft fluorescent lights glowed overhead, monitors beeped lazily somewhere in the distance, and the smell of fresh coffee drifted from the nurses’ station.

I checked my phone for the fourth time.

5:58.

For once since I became an intern, I was early.

A smug smile crept onto my face.

Take that, Dr. Quill.

I smoothed the front of my lab coat, covering my brown silk shirt and black pants with my favorite pair of black heels! What kind of girl would I be without my heels? I glanced at the office door. Frosted glass. Black lettering. Perfectly centered.

DR. MAVIS XAVIER QUILL

CONSULTANT CARDIOLOGIST

Even his nameplate looked intimidating.

I lifted the paper cup and took a cautious sip out of my coffee.

Sweet.

Too sweet.

Just how I love it.

The barista had called it caramel velvet roast. I called it liquid dessert with commitment issues.

Still, it was coffee, and after surviving yesterday’s cardiac apocalypse, I deserved coffee.

As for Dr Quill's coffee, I suppose he likes a dark coffee and two cubes…one cube maybe?

I was just deciding whether to throw the drink away when the office door opened.

Dr. Quill stepped out wearing charcoal scrubs beneath a crisp white coat, dark hair still slightly damp as if he had been awake for hours. His gaze dropped immediately to the cup in my hands.

One eyebrow rose.

“What,” he asked in that deep, perfectly controlled voice, “is that?”

I blinked.

“Coffee.”

He looked unconvinced.

“That,” he said, “is caramel syrup wearing a coffee costume.”

I stared at him as my eyes dropped in annoyance.

“Good morning to you too, Doctor.”

He glanced at his watch.

“It’s 5:59. You’re early.”

The words should not have sounded like a compliment.

Unfortunately, they did.

Carefully, he stepped aside as I went into his office.

It was neat.

It was way too neat and organized. I immediately understood why people were afraid of him.

The room was not large, but it felt impossibly precise.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Manhattan, the early morning skyline washed in pale blue light. Glass towers caught the first hint of sunrise, and far below, taxis crawled through the waking city like streams of yellow.

Everything inside the office stood in sharp contrast to the restless world outside.

A dark walnut desk occupied the center of the room, its surface almost unnervingly clean. A single black leather notebook sat perfectly parallel to the edge beside a silver fountain pen and a tablet aligned with mathematical accuracy. Not a stray paper. Not a coffee ring. Not even a fingerprint.

Bookshelves lined one wall from floor to ceiling, filled with cardiology textbooks, medical journals, and thick patient-reference volumes arranged by height and color. It was as if disorder had never been allowed to exist there.

The air carried a faint scent of cedarwood, antiseptic, and strong black coffee.

Behind the desk stood a black leather chair that looked more like a command seat than office furniture. Opposite it were two visitor chairs placed exactly the same distance from the desk, their legs aligned so perfectly that I wondered if he measured them.

The only object that seemed remotely personal was a framed photograph turned face-down on a side cabinet.

That unsettled me more than everything else.

“A second door stood at the back of the office. Maybe it led to the on-call room.”

I realized then that Dr. Mavis Xavier Quill’s office was not merely a place to work.

It was a controlled environment.

A room where nothing happened by accident.

A room that looked exactly like the man who occupied it.

I quietly placed the paper cups of coffee on the desk as I still observed the office. I didn't even know when he sat on his leather chair looking directly at me with no expression.

Sit.” he ordered.

I sat immediately.

He placed a patient chart in front of me. “Tell me what happened to Mr. Carter.”

Straight to business. Of course.

“Fifty-eight-year-old male with crushing substernal chest pain radiating to the left arm and jaw,” I began. “He deteriorated into pulseless ventricular tachycardia before transfer to the cath lab.”

“Continue.”

I did, trying very hard not to notice the way he watched me while I spoke.

When I finished, he tapped the chart once. “What was the earliest sign that he was becoming unstable?”

I frowned. “The monitor—”

“No.”

I blinked.

“The sweating worsened,” I corrected quickly. “And his skin color changed.”

A small nod. “Good.”

The word warmed me more than the coffee in my hand.

I took another sip.

He grimaced.

“Oh come on,” I said. “It’s not that bad.”

“Dr. Pears, that beverage contains enough sugar to induce tachycardia.”

I stared at him. “Did you just diagnose my coffee?”

“I diagnose poor decisions professionally.”

I tried not to laugh.

Failed.

The corner of his mouth moved. Barely. But I saw it.

Interesting.

I leaned back in the chair. “You know, most people say ‘good morning’ before criticizing a drink,” I said while still sipping my coffee.

“Most people arrive on time consistently,”he fired back.

There it was.

I sighed dramatically. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

He folded his hands on the desk. “Probably not.”

Silence settled between us—not awkward, just unexpectedly quiet.

“Today.. i and the active doctors in this department, will be grouping the interns, including you. Therefore, assemble the others in the orientation room and be there..before i get there”. He instructed while looking into my soul with those dark endless irises.

Suddenly, he got up from his seat as I followed. Grabbed my coffee, I nodded and left.

After successfully getting all eleven interns to the orientation room, I took a sip of my sweet coffee but, for some reason, it wasn't sweet.

“ewwu what the…”realising i had taken his coffee instead of mine, my stomach dropped.

“SH*T!” I mouthed.