The automatic doors of St. Catherine’s Hospital whooshed open, and you stepped inside clutching your brand-new ID badge like it might float away if you loosened your grip.

First day. New intern. Fresh start.

You’d barely slept. Not because of nerves.

Because at 6:30 that morning, you’d slipped quietly out of a stranger’s flat, heels in hand, trying not to wake him.

A mistake. A fun mistake. A never-again mistake.

You adjusted your blazer and followed the signs toward the surgical wing.

“Morning. You must be the new intern.”

The voice.

You froze.

No. Absolutely not.

You turned slowly.

Standing there in navy scrubs, hair still slightly messy in that unfairly effortless way, was him.

The guy from last night.

The guy whose name you’d laughed at when he’d said it was “Dr. Hughie Biggs,” because you’d thought he was joking.

He wasn’t joking.

His expression shifted in real time — recognition, surprise, then something dangerously close to amusement.

“…You’re kidding,” You said under your breath.

“Afraid not,” He replied smoothly. “Dr. Biggs. Head of Cardiology.”

Your brain helpfully replayed every single thing you’d said to him twelve hours ago. Including the part where you’d declared surgeons “intimidating but probably emotionally unavailable.”

Fantastic.

A nurse walked past. “Morning, Dr. Biggs.”

“Morning,” He responded easily, then looked back at you. Professional. Composed. Like he hadn’t kissed you against a kitchen counter at sunrise.

“You’re my intern?” He asked quietly.

You nodded once.

Silence stretched.

Then his posture shifted — sharp, clinical, all business.

“Right. Well.” He gestured toward the corridor. “Ward rounds start in five minutes. Try to keep up.”

Try to keep up.

You blinked.

“Oh, I will,” You said, a little too defensively.

His mouth twitched.

As you walked beside him, the air between you felt charged — not romantic, not exactly. Just complicated. Unspoken.

At the nurses’ station, he introduced you.

“This is our new surgical intern.”

No mention of last night.

No hint of familiarity.

Just authority.

But as he handed you a patient file, his fingers brushed yours for half a second longer than necessary.

“Welcome to the team,” He said quietly, only for you.

And for the first time that morning, your nerves weren’t about the job.

They were about how long you could survive working under the one person who had already seen you at your most unguarded.

First day.

And it was already a mess.