Chapter 14: Chapter Fourteen

Hermione

I fiddle with the small wad of paper in my hand, my eyes narrowed and my mouth twisted in contemplation.

I'm sitting back in my chair, weighing my options regarding the scrap I'm holding. I had retrieved it from the waste bin when I returned home from work, and since then, it's been in my possession.

There's no logical explanation for my actions, as I've already decided to keep Aiden Mendes at arm's length.

Unless my mother arranges another date between us, I'm not willing to reconnect with him. However, I had gone back for the paper and discovered that I had missed his contact details written on the back the first time I checked it. Now, I'm hesitant to give him a call.

My answer is clear: I've chosen to maintain distance. He would have gotten the message behind my silence. Yet, my actions won't stop the inevitable from occurring. Whether I connect with Aiden Mendes or not, our marriage will still take place. My mother is resolute in her plans, and she's never been one to back down.

I sit up abruptly in my chair and rip the paper into pieces, the sound of the tear echoing through the room. I crumple the tatters in my fist, rise from my desk chair, and dispose of them in the trash. I'm frustrated that Aiden Mendes occupies my mind, making me feel indecisive about my response to him.

My thoughts keep drifting back to him, and the memory of that day still haunts me. I detest that he had to see me in my vulnerable moment, exposed and raw. I push my hair back over my scalp, exhaling heavily as I try to shake off the lingering emotions.

My eyes scan my office, taking in the familiar surroundings. The room has a sense of order, but there are several papers strewn across the table that require attention. Patient records, research books, and other documents are scattered about, waiting to be organized and reviewed. I need to focus on my work and push aside the distractions that are clouding my mind.

"How do you feel, sir?" I ask Chairman Gonzalez after checking his vitals.

"I've never felt healthier," he says with a dry chuckle, patting his substantial belly.

"It's good to hear that," I reply.

"Thank you, Professor Pierce," he appreciates.

"Don't mention it. I was just doing my job," I tell him.

He had been near death's door when he was rushed into my surgery, and I think he must have been struggling to hold on.

"You are a goddess, all right?" He says with another attempt at humor, his tone laced with cheerfulness.

I manage a smile, as I couldn't remain aloof with him as my patient.

"You flatter me, sir," I say, placing a hand on my chest and tilting my head forward in a humble gesture.

I excuse myself from his ward after providing him with clear instructions on how to facilitate a speedy recovery. He assures me that his nurse will take good care of him.

With a nod of approval, I head down to the vending machine. The machine displays a variety of colorful iced cans behind its transparent glass, offering flavors such as peppermint, lemon, strawberry, and cola.

I insert a coin into the slot, select the black can – which is cola, my favorite flavor – and wait for the machine to process my order.

The machine makes a rumbling noise before dispensing the can into the collection box below. I bend down to retrieve it, uncork the can, and take a refreshing drink.

The chilly liquid runs down my throat, cooling my chest with satisfaction. After emptying the can, I crush it and toss it into the nearby trash basket.

I sit on one of the benches, a few feet away from the vending machine. My stomach feels bloated after gulping down the drink without a break. I wipe the moisture that gathers at the corner of my mouth with the back of my sleeve, while my stomach works to dispel the gas with several rumbling sounds.

As I take a look around, I confirm that I'm the only one in the vicinity. The moment gas passes from my anus, I feel a wave of relief wash over me. Finally, my stomach empties, and I sigh in satisfaction.

"Mmn."

I startle, my eyes widening at the sound. My head whips around in a flash towards the owner of the voice. Mortification surfaces at being caught farting in public – I had confirmed that I was alone. My heart hammers, and my body grows cold.

However, when I see that it's only a child, one of the patients, judging from his outfit, I relax. "What are you doing here?" I hiss at him.

He still scrunches his nose, holding the bridge with his little fingers, as he replies, "You are beautiful, but your fart smells ugly."

I roll my eyes towards the ceiling above, huff, and get up. I dip my hands into my waist pockets and face the child squarely. He appears to be around four or five years old, so I will excuse his candor. That's an... interesting way to describe a fart. However, I'm certain I was alone before I polluted the air.

"Did you creep up on me?" My gaze lowers to his tiny feet, clad in baby pink slippers.

His toes are cute, small, and pink, like the rest of him, which makes my heart ache.

Why is a boy like this roaming the hospital unsupervised? I look around, searching for his guardian.

"I followed you here," the boy confesses, his voice sweet and innocent, with a hint of an accent that suggests he's not from around here.

"Why? Who are you here with?" I ask, frowning down at him.

He points behind him. "Mom is back there. She's probably looking for me." His words are still simplistic, emphasizing his young age.

I reach out to him. "Come on, I'll take you back to your mom."

A smile spreads across his face as he bounces towards me, and he slips his fingers into mine.

"My name's Mike," he says, breaking the silence between us as I lead him back to his ward.

I look at him, meeting his expectant gaze. Mike's deep brown eyes are sharp and curious as he watches me.

"You really are beautiful."

A smile creeps onto my mouth despite myself, amused that the boy is already a charmer at his age.

"Really?" I tease him.

He nods enthusiastically. "Yes. Especially your eyes. My friends told me that the most beautiful female doctor in this hospital is the best doctor too."

"Mmn." I flatten my lips, biting back a smile.

As we approach the entrance, I spot a troubled woman through the parting doors. She grips her chest, recognition flashing in her eyes, and rushes to meet us.

"That's my mom," Mike says proudly. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"She is," I say, my gaze on his mother. She shares a striking resemblance with Mike, although her hair is a different shade – I guess he inherited that from his father.

My gaze tears away from the woman as Mike taps my knuckles. I give him my attention. He beckons me closer, wanting to whisper in my ear.

I furrow my brows at his request but oblige his demand, cocking my ear toward him. He cups a hand over the side of his mouth and whispers in my ear.

"Don't tell my mom, but you're more beautiful than she is."

I snicker, pulling away from him just as his mom reaches us.

"Mike," she chides, closing the remaining distance between us. She reaches out for him, but he wraps his arms around me, unwilling to let go.

"I'm with my doctor. She will take care of me, Mom. Don't worry," Mike says.

I glance down at him, surprised by his hold and his remark.

Mike's mom silently apologizes to me and attempts to take him away from me.

"But, Mom," Mike protests, dragging his feet as his mom tries to pull him off me. He holds onto my leg with one hand, fighting his mom's pull.

For a little one, he has remarkable strength – or perhaps his mom is the one who's exhausted from stress.

"Don't let her take me away, Doctor. Do something!" Mike shouts with desperation.

His mom reluctantly lets go of him to avoid causing a scene, and Mike tightens his hold around my leg. He gazes up at me. "You're the only one who can treat me, Doctor. You are the best doctor around here."

"Come over here this instant, Mike Lawson!" His mom snaps, her voice taking on an irritated edge.

I know she's concerned about her son's health, but she's aware that she can't afford me, even if she wants me to treat her son.

"I called you beautiful, remember? So you have to make me healthy," Mike says, raising his pinky finger at me.

I choke on a laugh, amused by his attempt at a deal. I pat his arm. "Go with your mom, Mike."

Mike's eyes cloud with tears, and he pushes out his lips. "Will you be my doctor? I don't want to stay in the hospital again."

How long has he been here? My brows knit together at his remark.

"Okay," I say tentatively.

"You will be my doctor?" Mike's face brightens, his crocodile tears long forgotten.

"Okay," I answer.

Mike jumps excitedly. "I knew it. You aren't mean, as they say," he remarks as he bounces back to meet his mom.

"You hear that, Mom? I just negotiated with the best doctor. I'll be alright soon."

His mom manages a smile at him, then she looks at me. "Thank you for bringing him, Professor Pierce."

"It's my pleasure. I meant what I said," I tell her, dispelling the doubts in her eyes.

She thinks I only agreed to be Mike's doctor to get him off me. However, I'm curious about his condition and would love to help him.

I don't typically provide philanthropic medical support for every patient I come across, but Mike's an interesting child. He seems bright, and I wouldn't want his parents' financial incapability to affect his treatment.

"I will look into his file and get back to you."

"Professor Pierce, we don't..." Mike's mom shakes her head, her voice trailing off. I understand what she's trying to say.

"It's alright. We will address all your concerns when we meet."

She nods, her eyes glistening with tears. She expresses her gratitude repeatedly to me as I excuse myself.

"Professor Pierce," Mike calls me, and I turn to face him.

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth when he waves happily at me. "Thank you," he mouths.

"You're welcome," I mouth back to him and walk away.