Unwanted Attention
1195 Words
POV: Amy
The morning came too early.
After Nathan left and the hallway was empty again, I’d somehow managed to stumble inside and crawl into bed. Sleep, however, never really arrived—just waves of restless thoughts that crashed against the shore of my skull.
David.
Rafe.
Danger.
Wait for him.
How was I supposed to do all of that and still function like a normal person?
Still breathe normally.
Still smile.
Still pretend my heart wasn’t somewhere else—following the man who ran to protect me.
But life didn’t pause simply because mine felt suspended.
By 6 a.m., I was back in the hospital.
Noise and motion blurred around me: rolling carts, heels clicking against linoleum, hurried voices, flat notes from monitors. It should’ve been familiar. Safe.
Instead, everything felt slightly off—tilted.
“Morning, Li,” Ethan said, falling into step beside me as I headed toward the resident lounge.
His voice sounded unusually gentle.
“Morning,” I murmured.
He studied me for a few seconds, eyebrows raised in concern.
“You look like you slept about… twelve minutes.”
“Thirteen,” I corrected automatically.
Ethan laughed, but it was soft.
“Bad night?”
Understatement of the decade.
“Something like that.”
We walked together until we reached the lounge; I dropped my bag into a cubby while he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked.
I paused.
I shouldn’t tell him.
Couldn’t.
“It’s complicated,” I said.
Ethan tilted his head.
“That’s the second time you’ve said that to me in two days.”
I glanced up.
He wasn’t teasing.
He was genuinely trying to understand.
“It’s—”
I stopped.
The truth was tangled, dangerous, impossible.
“Okay,” he said.
“No pressure.”
His voice carried an unexpected gentleness that made something inside me loosen—not by much, but enough to breathe.
“Thanks,” I said quietly.
He nodded, then pushed a thermos into my hands.
“Tea. You look like you need something warm.”
My chest tightened.
I blinked at it.
He didn’t look like the type to brew anything.
Then again, I was learning appearances lied.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Don’t thank me.”
He flashed a crooked grin.
“I stole it from the nurses’ lounge.”
I snorted, and the tension in my shoulders eased just a little.
“Drink it before someone steals it back,” he added.
He left, and I felt oddly lighter.
The shift blurred.
Vitals, exams, sutures, charts.
The kind of day that required your hands to keep moving even when your mind wanted to drift.
By late afternoon, I was at the nurses’ station reviewing a patient file when someone called my name.
“Dr. Li?”
I looked up.
A woman stood there, maybe in her early thirties.
Expensive coat.
Silk scarf.
Fingers adorned with delicate rings.
Her expression was polite, but her eyes were sharp—too sharp.
“Yes?” I asked.
“You’re Amy Li, correct?”
I nodded slowly.
She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
“My name is Sofia.”
No last name.
Just… Sofia.
“And I believe,” she continued, “we have someone in common.”
My stomach twisted.
“Who?” I asked.
“David.”
My body went still.
She said his name like she owned it.
I swallowed.
Carefully.
“Are you family?”
Sofia’s smile widened—not kindly.
“No,” she said.
“No, I’m not family.”
She took a step closer, lowering her voice.
“But I know him. Better than most.”
I felt something cold creep through me.
“What do you need?” I asked.
She considered me, gaze slipping over my scrubs, my badge, my not-slept-in-three-nights look.
“I came to introduce myself,” she said.
“Given your… connection.”
A strange anger pulsed beneath my ribs—not jealousy, but protectiveness.
“What connection?” I asked slowly.
Her eyes gleamed, amused.
“Oh, come now. Don’t play shy.”
She leaned in slightly.
“He left rather abruptly, didn’t he?”
My breath hitched.
“What are you talking about?”
She tilted her head.
“It’s a shame he didn’t tell you the truth before disappearing.”
A sympathetic tone, but her smile said she enjoyed every second.
“What truth?” I demanded.
Sofia shrugged delicately.
“That he’s not who you think he is.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Nathan’s warning echoed.
Someone dangerous.
Someone from his past.
Someone named Rafe.
Sofia’s gaze softened—too easily.
“He has a habit,” she continued, “of leaving pieces behind. People, mostly.”
I felt heat rise to my cheeks—anger, not embarrassment.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I said.
“No,” she agreed.
“But I know about him. And that’s enough.”
She slipped a card into my hand.
No name—only a number.
“If you want to know the truth,” she said, “call.”
I stared at her, pulse hammering.
“Why come to me?” I asked.
“Because you matter to him,” she said simply.
“And that makes you matter to others. To people who… pay attention.”
Her meaning hit cold.
Danger.
Just like Nathan said.
Sofia stepped back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Take care of yourself, Amy.”
A pause.
“Not everyone has good intentions.”
Her eyes held mine for one last moment—dark, unreadable—
then she turned and slipped down the hallway like she’d never been there.
I stood frozen.
The card burned in my palm.
“Amy?”
I flinched.
Ethan stood a few feet away, brows drawn.
“What happened?” he asked.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
I swallowed.
“Just… someone from David’s past,” I whispered.
Ethan frowned, concern deepening.
“You okay?”
I nodded, though the movement felt brittle.
“Yeah,” I lied.
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t believe me.
But he didn’t push.
That night, I sat at my kitchen table, the card between my fingers, the apartment too quiet around me.
Should I call?
Would it help?
Or make everything worse?
My phone buzzed.
A text.
Unknown Number:
Don’t trust her.
I froze.
My fingers trembled as I typed back.
Me:
Nathan?
No answer.
I stared at the card.
Stared at the message.
Stared at the silent phone.
My heart pounded.
Who was Sofia?
How did she find me?
What did she want?
And why did her presence feel more dangerous than Nathan’s warning?
I set the card down.
Then picked it up again.
David had left to protect me.
But danger had followed anyway.
I pressed a shaky hand to my chest.
“I wish you were here,” I whispered into the empty apartment.
The silence swallowed the words whole.
I didn’t know it then,
but this was only the beginning.
- Writer
