The day at the hospital had been unusually heavy. Selene moved from patient to patient with her usual grace and warmth, her hazel eyes flicking between medical charts and comforting smiles. But it was the young couple in Room 204 who tugged at her heart more than any prescription could fix.
The woman, Camille, had just delivered a premature baby boy. Her husband, Theo, stood stiff by the window—anxious, overwhelmed, and clearly avoiding his wife's eyes.
Selene noticed.
Later, during her break, she caught Theo in the hospital garden, staring blankly at the fountain.
> "Want some coffee?" she asked softly.
He blinked and looked up at her, then nodded.
They sat in silence for a moment before he finally spoke.
> "I didn't expect to feel… this useless."
Selene tilted her head gently. "You don't look useless. Just scared. Which is fair."
> "Camille needs someone strong," he muttered. "And right now I feel like I'm falling apart."
Selene smiled. "Maybe she doesn't need strength. Maybe she just needs you. Even if you're falling apart."
Theo looked up.
> "When she sees you there, even afraid—she knows she's not alone. That's what matters."
He stared at the fountain again, then whispered, "Do you really think so?"
> "I don't just think so," Selene stood, handing him a folded piece of paper. "Here. I wrote this for you."
He unfolded it. It was a small note.
"Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is stay." — Selene Laurent-Reyes.
A beat later, he stood and rushed back inside without a word.
That evening, as Selene stepped out of the hospital gates, she saw a familiar sleek BMW parked at the curb.
Antonio leaned against the hood, sleeves rolled up, arms crossed—and that look in his eyes.
> "You meddled, didn't you?" he asked, opening the passenger door for her.
Selene blinked innocently. "Define 'meddle.'"
He smirked. "Camille's husband ran through the hallway like he was in a French rom-com. And I heard from the front desk nurse that a certain elegant nurse made it happen."
Selene shrugged, slipping into her seat. "They just needed a little… push."
Antonio leaned in, brushing a kiss against her cheek before whispering,
> "You're such a pretty meddler."
Selene laughed, blushing. "Is that supposed to be an insult?"
> "No, Wifey. That's my favorite kind of chaos."
He kissed her again—this time on her lips—and shut the door before sliding into the driver's seat.
> "You fix hearts even outside the OR," he muttered, starting the engine.
> "Well," she grinned, "I married one."
They drove off into the golden Parisian sunset, her hand finding his across the gearshift. And somewhere in Room 204, Theo held Camille's hand—no longer afraid to fall apart together.