The whispers follow us like ripples in a pond, expanding outward with each step we take. I catch fragments as wepass—"...threw her badge..." "...pinned Harper to a wall..." "...together the whole time..."—and each one makes me want to sink through the floor. Instead, I straighten my spine, channeling a fraction of Sebastian's unshakable confidence.
At the elevator bank, I make the mistake of looking back across the lobby. At least a dozen staff members quickly avert their gazes, pretending they weren't just openly gawking at us. My face burns.
"Enjoying the show?" Sebastian murmurs, amusement threading through his voice as he pushes the up button.
"About as much as a root canal," I reply, but despite my discomfort, I squeeze his hand in silent gratitude. He's making this easier, turning our return into something approaching normal with his calm demeanor.
The elevator arrives with a cheerful ding that feels mockingly out of place. We step inside, and I exhale in relief when the doors slide closed. Sebastian immediately pulls me against his chest, his arms encircling me in a brief, fierce hug that speaks volumes.
"You're doing great," he says into my hair.
I press my face against his shirt and breathe him in. "I'm terrified."
"I know." His hands slide up to frame my face, tilting it up so I have to meet his gaze. "But you've got this.We'vegot this."
Before I can respond, the elevator slows. Sebastian drops his hands but doesn't step away, maintaining a closeness that would raise eyebrows even without our handholding entrance downstairs. The doors open to reveal Dr. Patel, who freezes mid-step at the sight of us.
"Holy shit, it's true," he blurts, eyes wide. "You're back."
His gaze jumps between us, lingering on the scant inches separating our bodies, before a grin breaks across his face. "About damn time."
"Arjun," Sebastian acknowledges with a nod but does nothing to hide the small smile tugging at his lips.
Dr. Patel steps into the elevator, smacking the "Door Open" button when it tries to close. His gaze lands on me. "You okay, Phillips? After everything with Cheryl, I mean."
The genuine concern in his voice catches me off guard. "Getting there."
He nods like that's exactly what he expected to hear. "Good. We've missed you around here. The diagnostics floor is boring as hell without you challenging Walker every five minutes."
Sebastian snorts. "I believe she's found other ways to challenge me."
Heat floods my cheeks at the double meaning, but Arjun just laughs. "Well, I'd better get back to rounds before Davis has my head." He steps back, giving us a mock salute as the doors begin to close. "Oh, and by the way… team Miastian all the way."
"Miastian?" I repeat as the elevator continues upward.
"Apparently we've been branded," Sebastian says dryly, but his eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement.
The lightness of the moment helps carry me through the rest of the elevator ride and down the corridor toward Henderson's office. With each step, however, my anxiety rebuilds. By the time we reach his door, my heart is practically somersaulting.
Sebastian pauses, turning to face me fully. His expression softens in a way that still makes my breath catch. "Remember," he says quietly, "whatever happens in there, we face it together."
He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Everything will be okay."
I take a deep breath, drawing strength from his certainty. The with my shoulders squared and my chin lifted, I nod. "Let's do this."
Sebastian's hand finds mine once more as he pushes open the door, and we step into Henderson's office side by side.
He sits behind his oak desk, gaze immediately dropping to our interlocked fingers. I resist the urge to pull my hand away, though heat creeps up my neck when his bushy eyebrows inch toward his receding hairline. The badge I threw at him last week sits centered on his desk blotter like evidence at a trial. Sebastian gives my hand a reassuring squeeze as we settle into the chairs across from Henderson, whose expression remains frustratingly unreadable behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
"Dr. Walker," He acknowledges, then turns to me. "Dr. Phillips. I was beginning to wonder if your absence would be permanent."
His tone isn't unkind, but there's an edge to it that makes my stomach clench. I swallow hard, feeling every inch the scolded child despite my professional attire and rehearsed apology.
"Dr. Henderson," I begin, my voice steadier than I feel, "I want to apologize for my behavior last week. It was unprofessional and completely out of line." My free hand gestures toward the badge. "Especially the... projectile credentials."
Henderson's mouth twitches, though whether in amusement or annoyance, I can't tell. So, I press on before I lose my nerve.
"Cheryl's death hit me harder than I expected. It brought up some personal history that I should have processed more appropriately." The words feel inadequate and nothing like the raw grief that tore through me that day. "But my reaction came from caring too much, not too little. I've always believed that's what makes me a good doctor."
