The MVP Who Left Me At The Alter

Isolde's pov “You’re still angry with me.”My pen froze on the stress-test report, I looked up.Zevran Caelis sat on the edge of the examination table in a dark training shirt and black shorts.My stomach dropped so hard as I closed the folder with careful fingers. “I don’t have time for the past, Mr. Caelis. You’re here for your physical. That’s all.” “You used to call me Zev.”The old name hit harder than it should have. I stood, walked to the sink, and washed my hands. “I used to do a lot of things.” My voice came out steady. “Shirt off. I need baseline vitals.”He pulled the shirt over his head without argument and set it aside. The body the league worshipped looked thinner up close.I wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around his arm. “Any recent illnesses?” “No.” “Chest pain?” “No.” “Shortness of breath during practice or games?”A small pause. “No.” “Dizziness? Lightheadedness? Palpitations?” “No.”I pumped the cuff and watched the numbers climb higher than they should, released it and kept my face blank. “Lie back.”He did. I placed the stethoscope against his chest. The first beats were steady. Then the rhythm stumbled.I moved the diaphragm lower and listened again. The same broken pattern.Zevran kept his eyes on the ceiling. “You’re quiet.” “I’m working.” “You always got quieter when you were angry.”I lifted the stethoscope. “And you always talked when you should have been listening. Sit up.”I clipped the pulse oximeter to his finger. The number that appeared made my throat tighten. “When did the irregularity start?” “It doesn’t matter.” “It matters if you’re planning to step onto a court and risk dying in front of twenty thousand people.” My voice stayed low, “Answer the question.”His eyes met mine for half a second. “It’s been managed.” “That’s not an answer.” “It’s the only one you’re getting right now.”I set the oximeter down harder than I meant to. “You don’t get to decide what I need to know about your heart. I’m the cardiologist assigned to clear you for the season. If I walk out of this room without full disclosure, you don’t play. Period.” “You’re enjoying this.”I frowned. “I’m doing my job.” “You’re still furious.” “I have every right to be.” I pulled on gloves, “But that has nothing to do with the fact that your pulse is abnormal, your oxygen saturation is borderline, and you look like you’ve been running on fumes for weeks. So stop lying to me and tell me when the symptoms started.”Zevran’s voice came quieter. “Three months. Maybe four. It gets worse after heavy minutes.” “And you told your previous team physician?” “I managed it.” “You hid it,” I corrected.I turned to the computer and logged in with stiff fingers. “I’m pulling your complete records from the last five seasons. If there’s anything else you’ve decided to ‘manage’ on your own, now would be the time to mention it.”He watched my profile. “You look the same...” “Don’t.” “You still hold your pen the same way when you’re concentrating. Still refuse to raise your voice even when you’re ready to put a fist through a wall.”My hands stilled on the keyboard. “You don’t get to do that,” I looked at him. “You don’t get to sit there and catalog the things you remember about me like they still belong to you.” “They never stopped belonging to me.”I laughed. “You left me standing in a church in front of two hundred people. You don’t get to claim anything.”His throat moved. For the first time he looked away, jaw tight.I faced the screen again. Files loaded one after another. I scrolled and what I read surprised me.Behind me, Zevran’s voice was almost gentle. “You weren’t supposed to find that.”My pulse hammered in my ears. “How long have you known?” “Long enough.” “That’s not an answer.” “It’s the only one I can give you right now.”I closed the file and turned fully. “You have a chronic arrhythmia that should have grounded you years ago. The notes say it was flagged, monitored, and then somehow disappeared from active follow-up. You’re sitting in my exam room pale, fatigued, and lying about every symptom I just asked you about. And you expect me to clear you for a championship run?” “I expect you to do what every other doctor has done. Sign the form and let me play.” “I’m not every other doctor.” “No.” His voice dropped. “You’re not.”I crossed my arms to keep my hands from trembling. “I’m ordering a full cardiac workup, I’ll document every irregularity I just recorded and make sure the league medical board sees it.”His jaw flexed once. “You’re serious.” “Dead serious.” “I never stopped...” “Don’t.” I cut in. “I never stopped loving you.” He said it anyways.I held his gaze even though it hurt. “Then you should have shown up.”He nodded once, like he had expected exactly that answer, and walked to the door. “Zevran.”He stopped.“If you collapse on that court because you were too proud or too stubborn to tell the truth, I will not forgive you a second time. Do you understand me?”His shoulders rose and fell. “I understand.”The door clicked shut behind him.I picked up my phone. My fingers shook as I typed.“I need you to look at something. Privately. Now.” Five years of careful distance had just walked into my exam room, and handed me his damaged heart like it was still mine to save.And God help me…I already knew I was going to try.