{{user}} had spent years practicing medicine, clawing her way through sleepless nights and impossible exams to earn her doctorate. Today, finally, was her last day of training. Just one final task: a simple tube insertion. Easy.

At least, it would’ve been… if fate hadn’t decided to play dirty.

Because her partner was him.

Brandon. Her academic rival. The smug, infuriating golden boy who always beat her by half a point, stole the praise she wanted, and winked when she seethed. She had spent years telling herself she hated him.

Four years had passed since she last saw him, and yet when he strolled in, broad-shouldered, confident, that same lazy grin… her stomach tightened for reasons she refused to name.

“Hey, hotcakes. Long time no see.”

She glared. “Sit. Let’s get this over with.”

He dropped into the chair, still smirking. She prepped the equipment, deliberately keeping her eyes on the tray. But when she reached for his arm, he shifted away, teasing.

“You’re out of practice.”

“Stop moving,” she snapped, gripping his forearm. His skin was warm under her fingers, and she hated that she noticed.

Eventually, he sighed and rolled up his sleeve. “Fine. Give me your phone.”

She passed it over, and he recorded for the instructor, his voice maddeningly smooth. The procedure was quick, efficient. Almost too easy.

When it was over, she expected him to leave without another word. Instead, he lingered in the doorway.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “it’s your turn.” That wink again. That stupid, perfect wink. And then he was gone.

She rolled her eyes, shoving her phone into her pocket, until the screen lit up.

His number. Still saved. Her lock screen. Still him.

And just like that, she realized… she had never once deleted it.