I should cancel the plan. No--no. I wish I could rewind time and erase that moment entirely. I should've never said it to Ronald.
Part of me keeps insisting: he probably didn't even take it seriously. Come on, who says yes to a marriage proposal from someone they don't even like?
But Ronald's reaction yesterday caught me completely off guard. The way he looked at me, the steadiness in his posture, the way his voice held every syllable like truth--it all felt terrifyingly serious.
And although Ronald never jokes, that's exactly the problem. Ronald it the most serious man I know. Every word, every action--intentional.
So maybe, possibly, most likely... he wasn't kidding.
He's actually going to marry me.
Oh God, I'm going to lose my mind. Why did I say it? I didn't think far enough ahead. If I marry him... I'll spend the rest of my life awkwardly tied to someone I barely understand.
I need to meet him. I need to talk to him. Tonight--after my shift ends. Unless something unexpected happens... like an accident.
I work in the ER everyday, sometimes assist my professor too. It's now easy to get this position. Okay, I'm still just a general practitioner, but the ER is my battlefield.
Why didn't anyone warn me how brutal this career would be? It's not just about the endless things you need to learn--it's the whole mess of building a medical career.
Licensing exams, certificates that bleed your finances, and the art of flattery just to land a decent practice spot. And let's not forget the unpredictable hours.
Before this, I scrambled like mad trying to find any clinic that would take me--from remote health centers to unpaid volunteer gigs, attending conference after conference. I was on the verge of a breakdown.
Then, at my lowest point, Professor Bryan Pugh called out of the blue to ask about a cardiovascular paper I once wrote. He saved me with a research project I never even imagined, and through his network, I finally got placed at a private hospital.
I like learning--well, maybe not love it, but at least I don't hate it. That curiosity is probably what makes medicine something I don't regret. After meeting Professor Bryan, I began to feels sure about one thing: I belong in cardiovascular work.
Not a specialist, though--something else.
"I'm heading out now!" I said to my colleagues, grabbing my jacket in a rush.
"You're clocking out on time for once? C'mon, help put before you go."
That was Hector Morton, the ward doctor who just got back from his Bali vacation. The guy always ropes me into covering his shifts.
"Not a chance. You're way too spoiled."
I never held back with him. The nicer I was, the more he took advantage.
I hurried toward the exit, searching for the ride I'd ordered earlier. I didn't even have Ronald's number.
God, Alina.
I asked someone to marry me without even having a way to contact him. Genius. I had no idea where Ronald was right now. But if I had to guess, it wouldn't be far from the hospital--he practically lived there. I'd run into him countless times at MedPrime.
I stepped into the towering hospital building. I didn't know where his office was. Worse, I didn't know anyone here. All those connection I'd tried to build... turns out, they didn't count for much at all.
"Excuse me, can I ask something? Where's Ron--Doctor Ronald's room?" I asked the receptionist.
"Do you have an appointment with him?" she replied politely.
I shook my head slowly. "No, I don't. But I know him personally."
"I'm sorry, but we can't allow visits without prior appointments. You might want to contact Doctor Ronald directly."
Contact him? How could I possibly do that? I didn't even have his phone number.
"Um... would it be okay to ask for his numbers?"
The receptionist furrowed her brows. Oh no. Another misstep. My nerves were muddling my brain; I couldn't think straight.
"I'm sorry, miss. Doctor's contact information here is strictly confidential. Are you sure you personally know him?"
I bit my lower lip. "Yes... I do know him," I said--though my voice trembled. Okay, now what? How do I make her believe me? "I ran into him a few days ago by chance. We were supposed to meet again but I forgot to ask for his number."
Would she believe that?
"Well then... can I ask what time he usually leaves work?"
The receptionist looked at me uncertainly. "That's... also something we can't share, I'm afraid."
Damn it. Why is it suddenly so impossible to meet him. I have to see him. I need to talk about what I said. I wouldn't sleep a wink if I didn't.
"I'm really his friend--uh, not exactly. I'm his junior. We went to the same university. Doctor Ronald used to assist my lab sessions."
Do I need to show a photo of us back then? Wait... do I even have one?
"I'm really sorry, miss. We still can't grant you access. It would be best to contact Doctor Ronald directly. Privacy is very important in this hospital," she said firmly.
Annoying.
"But I really do know him! Can't you at least tell me what time he finishes work?"
"I'm very sorry, miss. We can't. If you continue insisting, I'll have to call security. You'll be considered a stalker."
What? Wait--why security? Ronald isn't some celebrity that warrants that kind of treatment.
"No! I swear I know him! I'm a doctor too, look, here's my ID-"
"Security!" she called out.
I fumbled through my bag, desperate to find my identification badge. Where the hell was it? I was sure I'd just tucked it in. Why was I struggling now?
"Wait! I swear I'm a doctor. You can't possibly think-"
Before I could finish, one of the security guards had gripped my arm and started pulling me away.
"Please cooperate, miss. We don't want any disturbance."
I stared at the guard, irritated. How could I not be, when he yanked my arm so tightly despite his polite tone?
"Hey! That hurts--please don't pull so hard!"
"Let her go, Mr. Dan."
Every movement in the lobby stilled at the sound of a baritone voice. All eyes turned toward a man in blue scrubs walking calmly toward us.
He smiled gently at the security guard who had dragged me.
"I'll take care of her."
My eyes widened. Take care of me? What did he think I was--luggage? And with a sentence like that, everyone around us still assumed I didn't know him at all.
I asked this emotionally void man to marry me?
"My apologies for the commotion," he added.
I rolled my eyes. Wow. That almost sounded like he was confirming I was the source of chaos.
Ronald loosened the grip of the security guard and took my elbow gently. But instead leading me to his office, he walked me out of the hospital altogether. Straight to the garden at the front.
"You should've contacted me first," Ronald said calmly, "so we could've avoided all that commotion."
I let out a huff. "I didn't even have your number. You don't have social media, either. So how exactly was I supposed to reach you?"
"Just call me by name," he replied flatly. "You're not my patient."
Tch. As if anyone would want to be, with him acting like this.
Before I could snap back, my phone buzzed sharply with a ringtone that pierced through the silence.
"That's my number," Ronald said. "Save it."
I glanced up at him, clutching my phone in disbelief. How did he know my number?
"Your number hasn't changed," he added curtly, as if reading my thoughts. True, it hadn't. But... why did he still have it?
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"It's late. Why are you here?" he pressed.
I'd nearly forgotten why I came--thanks to the drama earlier. I was supposed to clear the air, tell him that what I said yesterday was a mistake. That I wasn't serious. Simple enough, right?
So why was I so nervous?
"Um... about my proposal, Doctor Ronald..."
"Yes? Is there a problem? Did your mother ask me to come over?"
I blinked. Wait--what? My mother? He actually took this seriously?
"N-no, Doctor. That's not it," I stammered.
"Then?"
I swallowed hard. Talking to Ronald was never easy... unless it involved something outrageous like marriage.
"I wanted to apologize. Yesterday, I wasn't in the best state of mind, and I said something... absurd."
He tilted his head. "Absurd?"
"Y-yes. About the marriage proposal... I wasn't serious. I said it on impulse, without thinking it through. I was frustrated, and--" I looked down. "I don't want to burden you with my nonsense."
"I don't feel burdened."
"Huh?" What kind of answer was that? "Sorry... what do you mean?"
Ronald straightened, his presence suddenly towering. "You need a partner to continue your studies. I need a wife. Seems like a fair arrangement to me. No one's burdened."
I paused, stunned. He saw this as a transaction? Was he marrying me just to gain something?
"B-but that's not how it should be. Even if it's a good deal--yes, a good deal..." My voice trailed off into a whisper.
"You're giving up on Professor Elisa?"
I looked up at him, his face only inches above mine. "You know Professor Elisa?"
"Mhm. Heard about her from Professor Harley. He said she heads the Epidemiology Department. That's a big deal, isn't it?"
I nodded. "It is. But I don't think I want to go through with this arrangement."
"Why?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.
"I mean--" I hesitated.
"I'm not against it at all. Yesterday, you asked why I agreed. I told you--I need a wife."
"A wife?" I repeated, needing to hear it again.
"Yes."
I took a deep breath. "That's exactly it. You need a wife, right? Shouldn't you be looking for the best candidate? Someone equal to you? Not someone who blurted it out because she was overwhelmed?"
"What do you mean by 'best'?"
"You know... someone extraordinary. Maybe the daughter of a hospital owner, or someone connected to prominent professor. Not... not someone like me."
It hit me then--if I really became his wife, could I even carry the weight of the title?
Ronald was a young specialist at a prestigious hospital, with research credentials that made headlines. Meanwhile, I couldn't even secure a proper practice without scrambling.
"I don't understand your point," he said.
"Reputation," I answered. "Isn't that what medicine is built on? The stronger our network, the better our career prospects. You're an elite doctor--shouldn't your partner match that status?"
Ronald held my gaze, his eyes sharp and unwavering. "I'm looking for a wife, not a connection."
Damn it. Why couldn't I respond? Why did my cheeks suddenly burn like a fire?
Don't be stupid, Alina. Even if he says things like that, this is just a mutually beneficial agreement.
"But... I want to withdraw my proposal. I'm not asking you to marry me anymore. I'm sorry--I was out of line," I said quickly, turning away.
"What if I'm the one asking you?"