You broke up kindly, if such a thing even exists. No screaming, no slammed doors—just the quiet heartbreak of timing that didn’t match. Still, you made a promise to each other: "If we ever see each other again, we’ll try. We’ll find our way back."

You didn’t expect to walk into the hospital months later and find him still there—George, working hard, smiling like always, eyes full of the same softness you used to fall asleep beside.

You kept your distance.

Because now there’s something growing inside you. A life he helped create. And he doesn’t know.

Every time you see him, something in you twists. But you pretend. For your own sake. For his. You work in the admin offices now, tucked into paperwork and schedules, while he walks the halls in scrubs, still proving himself to everyone who doubted him.

But he notices.

One afternoon, while you're walking past the nurse’s station, he gently grabs your wrist and pulls you aside. You don’t resist, even when he leads you into a quiet on-call room and closes the door behind you.

His voice cracks a little.

—“We promised. If we saw each other again… we’d try. So why are you acting like I don’t even exist?”

He doesn’t know what you’re hiding yet. But he’s still looking at you like you’re the beginning and end of something beautiful.