“Can I have a moment?” Deb asked Alex after the meeting.
They stayed behind as the others filed out, sunlight slanting through the blinds, laying striped shadows across the table.
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Once alone, Deb got straight to the point. Her posture was composed, her tone steady.
“It’s unusual for an intern to be under your direct supervision. She’ll be joining my team next term, and I’ve decided to treat her like everyone else—so I’d prefer she stop visiting the pediatric ward twice a week.”
Alex raised an eyebrow, his voice neutral.
“Why? I’m not giving her special treatment. Mr. Ellis approved it himself.”
“He asked me too,” Deb said smoothly. “I declined. People think she’s being favored—and that perception matters. For her sake as much as ours.”
Her hands were folded on the table, her expression unreadable.
“She’s bright, but still an intern. If she wants to pursue pediatrics, she can do that later. For now, she should focus like the rest. Children aren’t lab subjects. We work with reality, not ideals.”
Alex nodded slowly, considering her words.
“I see your point. And I agree… to some extent. But she’s working harder than anyone I’ve seen. I’d rather speak with her first—and respect her choice.”
Deb inclined her head, a flicker of respect softening her features.
“Fair enough. Let me know what she decides. I’d like to speak with her myself.”
Her heels clicked across the floor as she left.
Though Alex didn’t disagree entirely, her words lingered—for her sake, too.
Deb was strict, but not unjust. Perhaps that was why her words stayed with him.
I’ll talk to her when the time feels right.
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Lately, Naosa had noticed something shifting—small, sharp things hidden beneath the surface.
The glances. The silence when she entered the room.
Did I do something wrong? she wondered. I hope we can get along.
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In the break room, Miguel was chatting animatedly with the girls, his hands moving as he spoke.
“Even if I starve, I’ll still spend on clothes,” he said, laughing.
Ashley and Millie lit up immediately.
“Same! We’re going to the launch next week for our favorite brand!”
Naosa entered quietly, reaching for coffee.
Ashley turned to her with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Hey, Nao, you’re not really into fashion, huh? I kind of envy that—you must save a ton. And you don’t even wear makeup!”
Millie chuckled beside her, a little too loudly. “Totally. So jealous.”
Naosa responded lightly, as if missing the undertone.
“You’re right, I’m not much into it. Some of the kids in pediatrics have allergies, so I wear simple, non-irritating clothes. And cosmetics have too many chemicals.”
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Miguel, quietly observant, noticed what they didn’t—Naosa’s “plain” outfit was clearly custom-tailored, the fabric fine and expensive.
He said nothing, only took a sip of coffee.
“I’m wearing a new perfume today,” Millie said, holding out her wrist for Ashley to sniff.
Naosa smiled politely.
“There’s a nice scent about you.” Miguel said suddenly.
Naosa blinked. “What? Really? Oh no—is it strong? I’m not wearing anything!”
She sniffed her sleeve, looking genuinely worried.
Miguel laughed. “No, not perfume. Just you. You’re fine. The kids will survive.”
Naosa sighed in relief, smiling softly.
“Thank goodness.”
Ashley and Millie exchanged a quick glance—another silent defeat in their unspoken game.
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One afternoon, Naosa brought in a homemade apple pie.
Its warm, cinnamon-laced aroma filled the office before she even spoke.
“I baked apple pie—please have some during your break!” she said cheerfully, setting it down in the break room.
Sally’s face lit up. Jill smiled too.
“Let’s have tea instead of coffee,” Jill said, already filling the kettle.
“Yeah, apple pie deserves tea,” Miguel agreed, peering over the crust.
Ashley forced a smile. “Oh, I’m on a diet, so I’ll pass.”
Millie nodded quickly. “Same. Also, I’m kind of weird about homemade food. Sorry. But tea sounds great, Jill!”
Naosa blinked, momentarily taken aback, then recovered.
“Ah, I should’ve thought of that. Some people don’t like homemade sweets.”
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Miguel stepped in. “So, how many slices? Eight? What about Alex?”
“I don’t like sweets,” Alex said without looking up. “Go ahead.”
Ashley leaned closer, her tone edged with mock sympathy.
“Too bad. That’s rough.”
Naosa smiled lightly. “Yes, what a pity. Maybe next time I’ll bring something store-bought.”
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Miguel began cutting. “Odd numbers are tricky—let’s make it eight. Sally’s probably having two anyway.”
“Hey!” Sally laughed, but didn’t deny it.
As Miguel handed out the slices, Alex suddenly stood, walked over, and took a piece.
“If there’s an extra, I’ll take it,” he said casually, as if it meant nothing.
He took a bite—and paused.
“…Huh. Not too sweet. It’s good. Goes well with coffee.”
Sally gasped. “Hey! That was mine!”
Too late—half the slice was already gone.
Ashley and Millie watched in silence as Alex returned to his seat, clearly enjoying what he’d just dismissed.
Naosa said nothing, but her eyes softened. Her quiet smile carried warmth he didn’t see.
Miguel hid a grin behind his tea cup.
Another subtle shift in the air—another invisible line quietly redrawn.
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