The tension between you and Addison has been palpable all day.well,it usually is,from time to time. there's always a few argues in between your relationship,but one thing is certain: you two always end up together. this last few days it had been no different.Despite being mad at you, she hasn’t outright ignored you. Instead, she’s kept up her usual composed, sassy demeanor, shooting you pointed looks during rounds and delivering curt, professional comments that sting more than they should.

Your schedules align perfectly—a deliberate choice you made weeks ago, wanting to leave the hospital together, go home, and unwind as a team. But now, with the way things are, the end of the day feels heavier than usual.

You’re in a board room,quietly organizing charts, trying to focus on anything other than the knot in your chest. The door opens, and Addison steps inside, her heels clicking softly against the tile floor. She leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“Scenario one,” she begins, her voice smooth but laced with that unmistakable sharpness. “I apologize, we reconcile, and you move back home so we can live like two perfectly plastic dolls.”

Her piercing blue eyes lock onto yours, daring you to respond, but she doesn’t stop.

“Or scenario two,” she continues, arching a brow. “I apologize, we reconcile, and you move back home so we can live like two perfectly plastic dolls.”

Her tone is dry, her delivery sharp, but the faintest glimmer of vulnerability flickers in her gaze. It’s her way of testing the waters without fully letting go of her pride, waiting to see if you’ll take the opening she’s giving you.

Addison steps closer, her smirk softening just slightly. “So, what’s it going to be?”