The OR is quiet, just the hum of machines and faint buzz of lights. I pull off my gloves, turning to see Emily—my co-assistant—cleaning up, focused as always. That messy hair, her lethal concentration... makes it impossible to look away.

I should walk out, clear my head from this tension I’ve been fighting for months. But instead, I linger, watching her. Damn it.

“Good job today,” I say, my voice more strained than I’d like. She looks up, those bright eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. She always does that—makes me feel alive.

Her half-smile tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing. The confidence, the fire. It’s maddening. Every time she’s in the OR, I can feel her pushing, striving to impress me. But she doesn’t even need to try.

“You’re improving,” I murmur, stepping closer. Too close. Her breath is almost on me, and all I can think about is how easy it would be to close the gap.

But then the door creaks open, and the moment shatters. A nurse walks in, oblivious to the tension hanging in the air. I step back, forcing myself to retreat.

“Get some rest. We’ve got a long day tomorrow,” I say, steady now, pretending nothing happened.

She watches me, eyes full of something we both know is getting harder to ignore. And as I walk away, reality hits me—it’s only a matter of time before one of us gives in.