I never thought I'd run into him again.
Six years had passed since I last saw Rafael Montgomery. Six years since I walked away from the man who had once made me feel like the center of the universe, only to watch him destroy everything.
And yet, there he was, standing in my office, looking just as sharp and unreadable as the last time I saw him.
I was in the middle of my day. Endless cases to attend to, patients to see, and textbooks to read as I worked toward finishing my medical degree.
I sat at my desk, trying to focus on a patient file, my eyes scanning the paperwork for the hundredth time. My mind raced, my thoughts frantically trying to keep up with the volume of work. It wasn't enough. I wasn't going to make it through another hour without a breakdown. And then the door creaked open.
A soft knock followed, too polite for this kind of interruption. Without looking up, I did the thing I always did when I didn't want to deal with a distraction.
"Come in," I said, my voice tired, detached.
A figure stepped into the room, and I didn't recognize them at first. They were tall, but I couldn't place them. Then, I heard that voice, the one I had spent six years trying to forget.
"Amanda," he said, his voice calm, carrying that old, familiar weight that used to send a jolt of warmth through me, but now only made my chest tighten.
My breath caught in my throat. Rafael Montgomery. I froze, my fingers still clutching the patient file, the words on the page now meaningless.
For a moment, I thought I was imagining things. Maybe my exhaustion had finally caught up with me. Maybe I was losing my mind. But then I looked up, and there he was. Standing in front of me. As real as the memories I had tried so hard to bury.
He was different, yet the same. Older. Sharper. His jawline was more defined, his suit more polished. But those eyes, those damn eyes. Dark, piercing, and full of the same calm certainty that had always unsettled me. They hadn't changed. He hadn't changed.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My heart was hammering in my chest, each beat louder than the last.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice suddenly cold, more controlled than I felt.
But I was lying. I was terrified. He wasn't supposed to be here. Not now. Not after everything.
I added quickly, more out of habit than anything else, "And it's Dr. Harrington." I tried to sound professional, but I could hear the tremor in my voice.
He didn't smile. He never did. Instead, he stepped forward and reached into his briefcase, pulling out a folder and placing it on my desk with an almost clinical precision.
"I'm here because a malpractice claim has been filed against you," he said, his tone flat. He didn't look at me as he spoke, his focus entirely on the folder he placed in front of me. "I'm here to collect a statement on behalf of my client, the patient."
The words hit me like a slap to the face. A malpractice claim? Against me? I tried to focus, to keep my mind from spinning, but all I could do was feel the ice cold weight of his presence in the room.
"I… I don't understand." My voice came out quieter than I intended, but I couldn't stop myself from reacting.
I hadn't expected to see him, much less for him to show up here in my office.
"A malpractice claim?" I repeated, though I wasn't really asking.
I was already piecing it together. It had to be a misunderstanding. It had to be. I worked hard for this degree. I took every step with caution.
Rafael didn't look at me as he spoke again. His tone didn't soften, didn't show even a flicker of emotion.
"Yes, a malpractice claim. I'm here to gather your statement, Dr. Harrington. I'm not here to argue with you."
I felt the cold edge of frustration settle in my chest. I knew this wasn't his first choice either. But that didn't make it any easier. The last person I wanted to see, the last person I ever thought would be the one doing this, was Rafael. It was like a cruel twist of fate.
He wasn't there to help me. He wasn't there to defend me. He wasn't there to soften the blow. He was there to bring me down, just like before.
"You think you're going to ruin my life again, don't you?" I finally snapped, unable to keep my bitterness at bay.
His presence triggered something deep inside me, something old and painful that I wasn't ready to face. But I couldn't hold back anymore.
"Is that it, Rafael? You're here to finish what you started?" I said.
His jaw clenched at my words, but he didn't flinch. He simply adjusted his tie and took a step closer, his dark eyes never leaving mine. "I'm not here to ruin anything. I'm doing my job."
I wanted to scream at him, tell him everything, about how he had walked away from me without so much as a word. How he had betrayed me. But all I could manage was a quiet, trembling breath. I wanted to keep my composure, to maintain some semblance of professionalism, but it was hard. It was so hard.
"I didn't expect this," I whispered, barely audible. "Not from you."
Rafael didn't answer. He simply placed a pen on the desk and pushed the folder toward me.
"Amanda," he said quietly, breaking the silence, "We need your statement."
I stared at the folder, at the piece of paper that felt like an execution notice. I hated that I couldn't get away from him. I hated that after six years of trying to forget everything, he was suddenly back in my life, turning everything upside down.
For a moment, I thought of walking out of the room, of leaving him standing there with his cold professionalism. But I didn't. I had no choice. I reached for the pen, my fingers trembling as I picked it up, suddenly aware of how the space between us had become suffocating.
"Fine," I said, barely above a whisper, "Let's get this over with."