To Love a Surgeon

𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵.
𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.

Joaquín Felipe Cervantes Valderrama-the legend, the heir, the man with ice in his veins.
The world sees him as a force of nature, relentless and unshaken.
But I have seen him in the eye of the storm.

And the most dangerous thing about him isn't his brilliance.
It's the way he makes me want to step closer.

I came to Cervantes Medical Center to rebuild myself, to stand on my own in a place where only the best survive.
But somehow, I found myself beside him, our movements locked in perfect sync.
His orders, my response.
His precision, my trust.
His presence, a weight I should never crave.

We were supposed to be nothing more than nurse and surgeon, two professionals bound by duty.
But fate has a cruel sense of humor.

Because in the stillness of the OR, in the stolen glances and unspoken words, I feel it-the pull.
The slow, inevitable unraveling.
The moment before gravity takes hold and there is no turning back.

He does not love. He does not bend.
And yet, when he looks at me like this, when he says my name in a voice that should never waver-
I wonder if, for once in his life, he's just as powerless as I am.

And God help me, I don't want to run.