Chapter 6 —The Work Between Them
2074 Words
By the following Monday, Liana had decided that university personally offended the concept of sleep.
Her morning lecture had started at eight.
Her anatomy lecturer had somehow turned what should have been a two-hour class into an endurance test.
And now, with another lecture waiting later in the afternoon, she was sitting outside the medical sciences building with her notebook open, staring at the same paragraph for nearly five minutes.
She sighed and rubbed her eyes.
“You look terrible.”
Liana slowly lowered her notebook.
Sienna stood in front of her, holding two takeaway cups and wearing the satisfied expression of someone who had just delivered excellent news.
“Good morning to you too.”
“I said you look terrible. That’s my version of good morning.”
Liana reached for one of the cups.
“What is this?”
“Coffee.”
“You bought me coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my best friend, and I love you.”
Liana narrowed her eyes.
“You want something.”
Sienna placed a hand over her chest.
“Wow. The distrust.”
“You don’t buy me coffee without wanting something.”
“I could be changing.”
“You’re not.”
Sienna sat beside her and took a sip from her own cup.
“Fine. I want information.”
“There it is.”
“How is your project partner?”
Liana groaned.
“Please don’t start.”
“I haven’t even started.”
“You said his name without saying his name.”
Sienna smiled.
“Ethan.”
Liana closed her notebook.
“We’re working on a project, Sienna. That’s all.”
“Mhm.”
“It’s an academic assignment.”
“Mhm.”
“We have four weeks.”
“Mhm.”
Liana stared at her.
“Why are you saying ‘mhm’ like that?”
“Because I’m listening.”
“You’re judging.”
“I’m observing.”
“There’s a difference?”
“A significant one.”
Liana shook her head, fighting a smile.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you keep me around.”
“Unfortunately.”
Sienna grinned.
“See? Same thing as last time.”
Before Liana could answer, her phone vibrated.
She glanced down.
A message from Ethan.
Library after your lecture? I found two sources we should look at.
Liana stared at the message for a moment.
She hadn’t expected him to start looking for sources on his own.
She typed back.
Okay. I’ll be there.
Sienna leaned closer.
“Was that him?”
Liana locked her phone.
“No.”
Sienna looked offended.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“You just locked your phone like it contained state secrets.”
“Maybe it does.”
“Liana.”
“Sienna.”
They stared at each other.
Then Sienna laughed.
“Fine. Go meet your mysterious project partner.”
“He’s not mysterious.”
“You still don’t know his middle name.”
“That doesn’t make someone mysterious.”
“It does to me.”
Liana rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
The library was quieter than usual that afternoon.
Liana found Ethan at one of the tables near the windows, surrounded by his laptop, two notebooks, and a small pile of printed articles.
He looked up when she approached.
“You’re early.”
“I have a lecture after this.”
“So you decided to torture yourself twice in one day?”
She placed her bag on the chair.
“Apparently.”
Ethan pushed a printed article toward her.
“I found something interesting.”
Liana sat down and picked it up.
The study examined the use of artificial intelligence in medical diagnosis.
She scanned the first few paragraphs.
“This could be useful.”
“That was my thought.”
She continued reading.
A few minutes passed before she frowned.
“Wait.”
Ethan looked up.
“What?”
She turned the paper toward him.
“Look at who funded the study.”
He leaned closer.
She pointed toward the bottom of the page.
“The company that developed the AI system.”
Ethan’s expression changed slightly.
“That’s a problem.”
“Not necessarily. Funding doesn’t automatically make the study false.”
“No.”
He picked up his laptop.
“But it means we should look at it more carefully.”
Liana nodded.
“Exactly.”
She opened another tab.
“If their conclusions are favorable to their product, we need to know whether independent researchers reached the same conclusions.”
Ethan smiled.
“What?”
“You’re good at this.”
She looked at him.
“At what?”
“Questioning things.”
Liana shrugged.
“That’s what we’re supposed to be doing.”
“Most people read something online and believe it because it has statistics.”
“And you?”
“I don’t trust statistics just because they have numbers.”
That made her laugh.
“That’s probably the most sensible thing you’ve said.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“I’ll take it anyway.”
Liana shook her head and returned to her laptop.
For the next hour, they worked.
They searched for independent studies.
They compared conclusions.
They crossed out weak sources and saved stronger ones.
At one point, Ethan leaned back in his chair.
“We’re going to have too much information.”
Liana looked at the growing list on their document.
“We already do.”
“So we’re going to have to narrow it.”
“Definitely.”
She started typing.
Healthcare. Employment. Privacy. Accountability. Social impact.
Ethan added another heading.
Business responsibility.
Liana looked at it.
“That’s basically employment.”
“Not exactly.”
“How?”
“Employment asks what happens to workers when companies replace people with AI.”
“And business responsibility?”
“Who decides whether replacing them is ethical?”
Liana considered that.
“Okay.”
She added another bullet beneath it.
Profit vs. ethical responsibility.
Ethan nodded.
“Exactly.”
They continued working.
After another twenty minutes, Liana leaned back.
“If an AI system gives a doctor the wrong diagnosis and the patient is harmed, who is responsible?”
Ethan answered immediately.
“The doctor.”
Liana raised an eyebrow.
“You’re sure?”
“If the doctor makes the final decision, yes.”
“But what if the AI system was poorly designed?”
“Then the company is responsible.”
“What if the doctor was trained to rely heavily on the system?”
“Still doesn’t remove the doctor’s responsibility.”
Liana tapped her pen against the table.
“What if the company knew the system had problems and didn’t disclose them?”
Ethan paused.
“Then that’s different.”
“Exactly.”
He looked at her.
“You’re trying to make this complicated.”
“It’s supposed to be complicated.”
“Fair.”
She smiled.
“Maybe responsibility isn’t one person’s.”
Ethan nodded slowly.
“Shared responsibility.”
“Between the developer, the institution, and the person using it.”
“That could actually be one of our main arguments.”
Liana typed it down.
When AI causes harm, responsibility may be shared rather than assigned to one individual.
They both looked at the sentence.
“That,” Ethan said, “is good.”
Liana smiled.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
For some reason, the simple exchange felt different from the teasing they’d been doing since they met.
Not romantic.
Not dramatic.
Just easy.
Comfortable.
Neither of them seemed to notice.
By six in the evening, Liana’s stomach growled.
She froze.
Ethan looked up.
She looked away.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to ask if you’re hungry.”
“No.”
Her stomach betrayed her again.
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
Liana sighed.
“Maybe.”
He stood.
“I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?”
“Food.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
He walked away before she could argue.
A few minutes later, he returned with two sandwiches and bottled water.
Liana stared at them.
“You bought food again?”
“You were going to pretend you weren’t hungry until you got dizzy.”
“I was not.”
“You were.”
She hesitated before taking one.
“Thanks.”
Ethan sat back down.
“No problem.”
She unwrapped the sandwich.
“You’re strangely observant.”
“I notice things.”
“That’s slightly unsettling.”
He smiled.
“You’ll survive.”
She took a bite.
A moment later, she looked at him.
“This is actually good.”
“I’ll tell the restaurant.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“And I’ll probably say it again.”
“I’ll be prepared.”
Liana laughed softly.
The sound made Ethan look at her for half a second longer than necessary.
Then he looked back at his laptop.
They stayed until the library began emptying.
Their document was now several pages long, their source list had grown considerably, and they had finally divided the project into sections they could properly research.
Liana closed her laptop.
“I think we’re making progress.”
“We are.”
She looked at the time.
“It’s almost eight.”
Ethan glanced at the clock.
“You should go.”
“I have another lecture tomorrow morning.”
“Exactly.”
She packed her things.
As they walked out of the library, the evening air was cool.
Students crossed the courtyard in groups, some heading toward the dormitories, others toward the cafeteria or evening classes.
For a few moments, they walked in silence.
Then Ethan asked, “Do you always work this hard?”
Liana looked at him.
“Is that a complaint?”
“No.”
“Then yes.”
He smiled.
“You’re going to make a very intense doctor.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was.”
She smiled.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you always work this hard?”
He slipped his hands into his pockets.
“Sometimes.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“It was the answer you’re getting.”
Liana laughed.
“You really don’t talk about yourself much.”
“Neither do you.”
She became quiet.
The comment wasn’t accusatory.
Just an observation.
She looked ahead.
“Maybe we’re both private.”
“Maybe.”
They reached the point where their paths separated.
Liana adjusted her bag.
“Goodnight, Ethan.”
“Goodnight, Liana.”
She walked away.
After a few steps, she glanced back.
Ethan was already walking in the opposite direction.
She turned forward again.
She wasn’t sure when it had happened.
Somewhere between the arguments over research, the teasing, the coffee, and the sandwiches, being around Ethan had become easy.
She hadn’t expected that.
And perhaps that was exactly why it mattered.
Ethan had barely reached the edge of campus when his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression immediately changed.
He let it ring.
It stopped.
A second later, it rang again.
Ethan closed his eyes briefly before answering.
“Hello.”
A familiar voice came through.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls.”
Ethan said nothing.
“I know you’re busy,” the voice continued, “but we need to talk.”
Ethan glanced back toward the university buildings.
“I told you I’m not ready.”
“You’ve been saying that for weeks.”
“I know.”
“Ethan—”
He lowered his voice.
“Not here.”
There was a pause.
“Then where?”
“Just give me some time.”
“You know I can’t do that forever.”
Ethan tightened his grip around the phone.
“I know.”
The call ended.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the dark screen.
Then he slipped the phone into his pocket and continued walking.
Behind him, Ravencrest’s lights glowed against the evening sky.
And somewhere inside those walls, Liana Brooks was beginning to trust him.
Neither of them knew yet how much that trust would eventually cost them.
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