Tara’s Office
When they stepped inside her office, Ethan closed the door behind them and looked around with interest. It was a neat, bright space with a bookshelf full of dical texts, a large desk near the window, and a soft grey sofa in the corner.
"This is nice," he said, leaning against the desk. "But where’s the giant ’World’s Best Wife’ plaque I sent you?"
"I told you that was too embarrassing to keep here," she replied, placing the roses in a vase.
He gave her a dramatic gasp. "How dare you hide my love from your workplace!"
She rolled her eyes and...
A knock at the door interrupted them. Tara called, "Co in."
One of the hospital assistants stepped inside, holding another bouquet of flowers — this one all peach roses, tied neatly with cream ribbon.
"These ca for you, Dr. Tara," the assistant said.
Tara frowned slightly. "Again??? From who?"
"There’s no na," the assistant replied, handing them over. "Just a card that says, ’To the doctor with starlight eyes.’"
Ethan’s brow lifted imdiately. "Oh? And who’s sending my wife poetic flowers?"
Tara gave him a warning glance, opening the card again just to check. "It’s probably a patient’s family. I get these sotis."
"Really?" Ethan crossed his arms. "They send you roses without a na? That’s suspicious."
"It’s just appreciation," she said, setting the new bouquet on the table.
He walked over and studied the flowers like they were evidence. "I don’t know... this ribbon says, ’I’m interested,’ not ’Thanks for saving my uncle.’"
She laughed despite herself. "You’re reading too much into it."
"I’m reading exactly enough into it," he said, still eyeing the flowers. "Maybe I should start hanging around here more. Just to... keep an eye on things."
"You’d get bored in ten minutes."
"Not if I was sitting here, watching you work," he said with a smirk.
She shook her head, amused but not arguing. "I have patients in twenty minutes. You can stay here until then, but no causing scenes."
He sat on the sofa, stretching his legs out. "Scenes? ? Never."
She glanced at him, lips curving just a little. "That’s exactly what worries ."
Ethan’s phone buzzed against his thigh just as he was scrolling through sothing on Tara’s bookshelf. He glanced down at the screen — Manager: Answer Now.
He sighed and answered. "Hey—"
"Ethan! What on earth are you doing?" his manager’s voice barked through the speaker. "I just got three ssages from reporters saying you’re at St. Adelaide Hospital, walking around with flowers like you’re filming a drama. Do you know how this looks?"
Ethan winced and held the phone away from his ear for a second. "It looks romantic?"
"It looks like trouble!" his manager snapped. "If people start asking who Dr. Tara is, you’re going to cause chaos. You need to leave. Now."
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose, glancing at the door to Tara’s office. She was still upstairs with a patient. He wanted to wait for her, but he also didn’t want his manager having a heart attack before lunch.
"Fine," he muttered. "But I’m not happy about this."
"You’ll survive," his manager said dryly before hanging up.
Ethan looked around the quiet office one more ti, then spotted a small notepad on her desk. He tore off a page and sat down to write.
Tara,
Got called away — apparently I’m causing hospital-wide drama. Didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. Will see you tonight.
– Your troublemaker
He placed the note neatly in the center of her desk, right where she’d see it, and took one last look at the peach roses sitting in the vase.
His eyes drifted to the other bouquet — the one with no na.
He walked over, picked it up, and stared at the card again. To the doctor with starlight eyes.
Sothing about it tugged at him.
When he received the second call, he answered it quickly and left the office.
When Tara walked back into her office after her last consultation, she expected to see Ethan lounging on the sofa. Instead, the room was empty.
Probably, she thought, he had grown bored waiting. The hospital wasn’t exactly the most thrilling place for soone like him. Still, she couldn’t help a tiny sting in her chest. She had wanted to share at least a few minutes of her break with him.
She set the note down and reached for a file on her desk, not noticing the small detail in the corner of the room.
Beside the sofa, the waste bin held a few thin, shredded strips of paper — nothing big enough to read, but just enough to hint that sothing had been there before.
****
"What the heck!" Ethan cursed, holding the phone slightly away from his ear. "You’re kidding, right?"
On the other end, his manager’s voice was annoyingly calm. "Not kidding. The awards show is tomorrow. Big one. Every major network’s covering it. You’re presenting and you’ll be walking the red carpet with Samira."
Ethan froze mid-step. "Samira? As in Samira—the one I worked with in Falling Leaves?"
"Yes," the manager replied. "Netizens love your on-screen pairing. It’ll be good publicity."
Ethan groaned. "But I have plans tomorrow. Real plans. Personal plans. The kind that don’t involve flashing caras and fake smiles."
"Ethan, this is important for your career. You can reschedule your date night."
He dropped heavily into the living room sofa, running a hand through his hair. "It’s not a date night. It’s... never mind. You don’t get it."
"I get that you’ve been avoiding events lately," his manager said sharply. "This one’s not optional. Be at the studio tomorrow at two for final fittings."
The call ended before Ethan could argue further. He sat there for a mont, scowling at the phone.
**
That evening, he paced the living room waiting for Tara. The clock ticked past eight, then eight-thirty. When the front door finally opened, she stepped in looking exhausted, hair slightly ssy from a long shift.
"I was going to make dinner," Ethan began, but stopped when she smiled faintly and shook her head.
"It’s too late for cooking. You eat first—I’ll shower."
So he did. Alone at the table, poking half-heartedly at the al Aunt Martha had reheated for him. By the ti Tara ca downstairs, he was stretched out on the sofa, eyelids heavy.
Then Tara nudged him gently and told him to go to his room and sleep. He mumbled sothing in reply before walking upstairs and collapsing into bed.
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