After the management meeting, Alex and Miguel walked side by side on their way back to the office. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows down the corridor as their footsteps echoed on the linoleum.
Alex had been looking tired lately—dark circles under his eyes, shoulders slightly slumped. The strange dreams he once had were gone, and with them, the memories had started to fade like morning mist.
“What’s up?” Miguel asked, glancing sideways at his friend. “You’ve seemed off lately.”
Alex let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m out of sorts. I can’t even bring myself to scold her.”
Miguel chuckled, immediately knowing who her was. “She’s incredibly smart. There’s nothing to nag her about, right?”
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“Yes, she is,” Alex admitted reluctantly. “But if I don’t respond when she says good morning, she just stares at me until I do. And when I try to get her attention by saying ‘Hey,’ she ignores me.”
Miguel laughed, shoulders shaking. “Of course she does. You never use anyone’s name. She’s not a dog, Alex. she’s training you.”
Alex frowned. “I’m stressed out.”
“No wonder. Even Sally’s been tamed by her,” Miguel said, eyes twinkling.
Alex groaned, curiosity getting the better of him. “How?”
Miguel grinned, leaning in like he was sharing top-secret intel. “She’s got Sally wrapped around her finger with sweets.”
Alex threw his head back dramatically. “Ahhh… that’s terrible.”
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“You go ahead,” he said, slowing his pace. “I’m stepping out for a smoke.”
He raised a hand in a half-wave and turned toward the side exit.
Outside, he lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall, watching the smoke curl into the cool air. The hospital grounds stretched before him, but he wasn’t really seeing them.
You explain things clearly, Dr. O’Neill. It helps me focus.
Her words echoed in his mind—Naosa’s voice, calm and direct. No flattery. No sarcasm. Just genuine appreciation.
He exhaled slowly.
Why did that bother him more than it should?
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Meanwhile, in the office, a young guy from the staff engagement committee had just left Jill’s desk. The others looked up from their screens, curious.
“What was that about, Jill?” Sally asked, swiveling in her chair.
“Ah, the committee’s hosting an event this month,” Jill said with a sigh, tossing a flyer onto her desk. “He asked if we were going to participate. Then he added, ‘Your team probably won’t join, as usual.’”
Sally scowled. “Ugh. Rude.”
“What kind of event is it?” Naosa asked, picking up the flyer.
“A basketball tournament,” Jill explained, tapping her pen against the desk. “We’ve never joined anything, and now they’re complaining. He even said, ‘Your team has the youngest manager, but no support for hospital activities.’”
Jill rolled her eyes, but something in her tone betrayed a flicker of regret.
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“I love sports!” Naosa’s eyes lit up with unexpected excitement. “My roommates and I play basketball in our community. “We should join, don’t you think?” she said, looking around hopefully.
Jill shook her head—though not as firmly as usual. “No. We’re not joining.”
She hesitated, then added, “It requires a minimum of six players.”
Naosa looked around the office and started counting. “There are ten of us. We can do it.” Her optimism was infectious.
“No one will want to join,” Jill said, but her voice lacked conviction.
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One by one, Naosa approached her teammates. Each intern declined with excuses—too busy, not athletic, can’t dribble, two left feet. She turned to Kevin, who fidgeted awkwardly.
When she fixed him with her expectant gaze, he gave a shy nod.
“Jill, Kevin, and me… we need three more,” Naosa muttered, tapping her chin. Then she turned to Sally, her expression calculating. “Can I put your name on the list?”
“Sorry, I’m not good at that kind of sport. I can’t help you,” Sally replied flatly, not looking up from her computer.
“It’s okay,” Naosa said with a smile that clearly said she wasn’t done. “Even if you just stand on the court for the minimum time, it helps.”
“No.” Sally shook her head again, fingers still typing.
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Naosa leaned in and whispered, just loud enough for Sally to hear, “I’ll give you one box of chocolate.”
Sally froze.
“Two boxes,” she countered smoothly, not even looking up—like a true negotiator.
Naosa grinned and held out her hand. “Deal.”
They shook.
“So, we have Jill, Kevin, Sally, and me. Just two more,” Naosa announced brightly.
Sally glanced around. “The guys in our team aren’t exactly athletic…”
“I’ll beg Miguel,” Jill said with a smirk. “He might join.”
“Dr. O’Neill?” they both said at once, glancing at each other.
Then shook their heads. “No way. He won’t be interested.”
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Just then, Miguel poked his head into the office, perfectly timed. “What’s going on?”
Jill filled him in, then asked—just in case—about Alex.
Miguel rubbed his chin, pretending to weigh the idea, then gave a conspiratorial wink.
“All right, Jill. You owe me one. Just put his name down. If you really want to join, do it. He won’t show. He doesn’t care.”
“Okay, then. We’re in.” Jill grabbed the form with a spring in her step. “I’ll submit it to the committee.”
Around the room, people exchanged glances—some amused, others skeptical. But beneath it all was a shared undercurrent of something new: anticipation.
Alex’s lab team was officially entering the basketball tournament.
No one expected it—
not even them.
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