Chapter 11
Confrontation
The hospital corridor was quiet, too quiet. JC's footsteps echoed against the tiles as he walked, jaw clenched, thoughts spinning in a violent loop. Celestia's face, her voice, her coldness—it all kept playing back in his head.
And then, as if the universe wasn't already mocking him, he spotted someone walking toward him.
Doc Kheo.
Still in his white coat, stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck like a fashion accessory. Clipboard in one hand, coffee in the other. Relaxed. Effortlessly cool. It pissed JC off.
Their eyes locked.
JC stopped walking. His blood started to boil.
"You," he muttered, stepping forward.
"I know what you're doing. Don't think I don't see it."
Kheo raised a brow. "Good evening to you too, JC. That's a rather suspicious opening line." He sipped his coffee. "Go on, I'm listening."
"You've been flirting with my girlfriend," JC hissed.
"Don't act innocent. I see the way you look at her. I know what you're trying to do—but I'm warning you. You're not going to take her from me."
Doc Kheo blinked slowly. Then let out the most exaggerated, sarcastic gasp.
"Flirting?" he said, placing a hand over his chest. "With your girlfriend? Wow. I didn't know basic medical care could be so seductive."
JC's fists tightened.
"Cut the crap."
Kheo smirked. "No seriously, did I seduce her by checking her blood pressure? Was it the eye test? Or was it the pulse oximeter? Damn, I should be more careful."
JC stepped closer, breathing hard.
"She's mine."
Kheo took another sip of coffee, then looked him up and down with a tilt of his head.
"See, now that's funny."
He leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to make it sting.
"You say she's yours, but… from what I heard earlier? Sounds like you're more worried about losing than loving."
JC froze.
"What?"
Doc Kheo grinned—wolfish now, dangerous.
"I heard it." He tapped his ear. "Oh yeah. I heard everything."
He took a slow step around JC, circling him.
"You know, walls here are pretty thin. And some nurses? They like to gossip. So imagine my surprise when I heard your name… and some other girl's name... in the same sentence. Along with the word dare."
JC's face turned pale.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Maybe."
Kheo shrugged. "But it's always the guilty ones who raise their voice first."
JC stared at him, breath uneven.
Kheo clapped his shoulder like an old friend. "Anyway, relax. I'm not after your girl. I don't steal." He walked past, but threw one last line over his shoulder:
"But if she ends up leaving you on her own… well, that's not stealing, is it? That's just karma clocking in."
And with that, Doc Kheo turned the corner, whistling an off-key tune, like he hadn't just lit a fire under JC's feet.
JC stood there, fists clenched, teeth grinding.
What exactly did he hear? And worse—what else does he know?
Doc Kheo's POV
Doc Kheo turned the corner, leaving JC behind in the hallway. His steps slowed once he was out of sight. The playful whistle faded from his lips, replaced by a soft sigh as he stared down at his half-empty coffee cup.
"Unstable," he muttered under his breath. "That guy's completely unraveling."
He paused near a window, the glow of the city bleeding through the glass, casting shadows across his white coat. The hospital around him buzzed faintly—distant beeping monitors, quiet footsteps, soft murmurs from the nurses' station. But inside his head, it was oddly quiet.
JC's face flashed in his mind. The paranoia. The tension. The way he clenched his fists like the world was conspiring against him.
"All that guilt is eating him alive," Kheo said softly. "He's twitchy, defensive, and ready to punch shadows. And still… he wants to act like he's the victim."
He let out a small chuckle, but it lacked amusement.
"Poor Celestia."
The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them. Not out of pity, but something else—something heavier.
"She's already been through hell, and now she's stuck with a guy who's too busy protecting his lies to protect her."
He moved away from the window and sat down on a nearby bench, stretching his legs and letting his clipboard rest on his lap. He leaned forward, hands clasped together, eyes lowered.
"If she ever ended up with someone like me…"
A pause. He smirked faintly.
"I think I'd actually be lucky."
His voice lowered, almost to a whisper.
"She's rare. Kind, gentle—maybe too gentle for a world like this. But she's strong in a way most people don't notice. She deserves something real."
He leaned back against the bench, eyes on the ceiling now.
"Not some guy who uses her memory loss as an excuse to pretend nothing happened," he murmured. "Not someone who gambles with love like it's a dare."
Then he laughed—quiet, bitter, more to himself than anyone else.
"If she's with him, what exactly is she getting in return? Half-baked apologies? Empty gestures? Cheap promises? You blew it, JC. And I hope one day you realize how much."
Silence settled in again.
Then, without warning, Kheo gave himself a light slap on the cheek. Just a tap, but enough to shake himself out of whatever spiral he was drifting into.
"Alright, Kheo," he muttered, straightening his coat. "You're a doctor. Not a daydreaming teenager."
He pointed at his own reflection in the darkened window.
"Work only. No falling in love."
With that, he stood, composed himself, and headed back toward the nurse's station—his steps steady, his expression calm.
But deep down, he knew something had already shifted.
And he didn't like it.
And maybe he like it so much?
Did he?
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