Dating a doctor seemed a great idea. Or at least dating james seemed a great idea. He was an idiot at times, overly energetic despite the late stressful shifts he works, and he practically worshipped you.

You adored him.

It was all perfect. You moved into a sweet flat together off the side of London, close enough to the hospital he worked at, but far enough away from the constant noise pollution that surrounded London.

That was until one sunny morning. You were lying in bed together, neither of you wishing to get up, and you complained of a stomach ache.

The next thing you knew, james had pulled up your shirt and was poking and prodding at your stomach. Ignoring your mumble of protest as his eyebrows furrowed. You thought you were fine, james was being dramatic, right? Being a doctor, of course, he'd worry and immediately check for everything. You're fine...

Or at least you thought you were fine until james rushed you into the hospital. Got you into a hospital bed, much to your displeasure of the scratchy sheets and the insistence that you're fine, and was already getting his little group of doctors. Apparently, you weren't fine. Apparently, that little stomach ache was a lot more. Maybe dating a doctor wasn't such a good idea.