Zayn pov:
I couldn't move.
Y/N was right there, arguing with Xavier like nothing had changed, like years hadn't passed. But something had changed. She looked… tired. Not the Y/N I remembered—the one who used to be so full of energy, always ready to fight the world.
Then, as if sensing something, she turned around.
Her eyes landed on me.
For a second, she just stared, her lips parting slightly, her expression frozen between shock and something else something softer.
Then she smiled. "Hie."
That simple word hit me harder than I expected.
It was her. It was really her. And she was smiling at me like no time had passed.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything.
But my throat was dry.
I just stood there.
She was smiling at me, looking exactly like the Y/N I remembered, and yet… not. There was something different, something I couldn't place.
And then the question hit me.
Why is she here?
The weight of it settled in my chest like a stone.
Y/N was never the type to walk into hospitals unless she absolutely had to. She was reckless, stubborn, always brushing off injuries like they were nothing.
But she was here. As a patient.
That thought alone made my stomach twist.
I forced myself to speak, but the words felt heavy. "…Y/N?"
It was all I could manage.
She just kept looking at me, her smile fading slightly, as if she could tell exactly what I was thinking.
Xavier looked between us, eyebrows raised. "Wait… you two know each other?"
Y/N let out a small chuckle and nodded. "Yeah, we were friends back in the day. Classmates too."
Friends.
That word felt strange coming from her.
I kept my expression neutral, but something about the way she said it made my chest tighten. Friends? Was that really what we were?
I wanted to ask her so many things. Why was she here? Was she okay? But I couldn't. Not yet.
So, I just nodded, my voice calm. "Yeah… we go way back."
Xavier glanced at me, then back at Y/N, clearly sensing something unspoken but not pushing it. "Huh. Small world."
Y/N smiled like this was just some casual reunion. Like my mind wasn't racing. Like my heart wasn't stuck somewhere between the past and the present.
And for the first time in years, I wasn't sure what to say to her.
I cleared my throat, pushing aside the thoughts running through my head. "Come with me," I said, keeping my voice steady.
Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. Xavier hesitated, but she gave him a quick nod, silently telling him it was fine.
I turned and walked toward my office, my footsteps steady even though my mind wasn't. She followed behind me, quiet. The air between us felt heavy—like there were too many unsaid things pressing down on both of us.
Once inside, I closed the door behind her.
For the first time in years, it was just the two of us.
She looked around my office, taking in the neatly organized desk, the shelves lined with medical books, the view of the city from the window. Then her eyes landed on me.
I met her gaze. "Why are you here, Y/N?"
It was the only question that mattered.
I leaned against my desk, arms crossed, keeping my voice steady. "I saw your name in the appointment list."
Y/N tilted her head slightly, like she wasn't sure how to respond.
I exhaled slowly. "Is everything okay?"
I tried to keep calm, to act like this was just another patient, just another routine question. But it wasn't. Not to me.
She hesitated for a second, then shrugged, forcing a small smile. "It's nothing serious. Xavier overreacted."
I didn't believe that for a second.
Her face looked a little paler, her posture not as steady as I remembered. And if she was here—actually here—then something had to be wrong.
I studied her carefully, waiting to see if she would tell me the truth.
I didn't push her for answers. Not yet. Instead, I picked up a pen and a prescription pad, my movements calm and steady.
"I'm ordering some tests," I said, writing down the necessary ones. "If it's really nothing serious, then the results will confirm that."
Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes slightly. "Zayn—"
"Just do them," I cut in gently, looking up at her. "For me."
Her expression shifted for a moment—just a flicker of something I couldn't quite read. Then, finally, she exhaled and reached for the paper.
"Fine."
I handed it to her, my fingers brushing against hers for just a second. She didn't pull away.
I wanted to ask more. I wanted to know what was really going on.
But for now, this was enough.
As she took the paper, I hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
"Give me your number."
Y/N looked up, surprised. "Why?"
I kept my tone neutral. "So I can call to check on you and update you on your test results."
She stared at me for a second, as if trying to figure out if there was more to it. Maybe there was.
Then, with a small sigh, she reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and slid it across my desk. "Just put it in."
I picked it up, typing my number into her contacts before calling myself. My phone buzzed in my coat pocket.
I handed hers back. "I'll let you know when the results come in."
She nodded, slipping her phone away. "Thanks, Doc."
That teasing tone—it was small, barely there, but it reminded me of the past. Of when things were simpler.
I didn't smile. I just nodded. "Take care of yourself, Y/N."
She turned to leave, and for some reason, watching her walk away made my chest feel heavier than before.
Y/N POV
I walked out of Zayn's office, my steps slow, my mind a mess.
I should have been fine. I should have just brushed this off like I always did. But my fingers tightened around the test prescription as I glanced down at it.
Blood tests. ECG. Echocardiogram.
It felt too serious. Too real.
A part of me wanted to crumple the paper, shove it deep into my pocket, and forget about it. But another part—the part that felt the ache in my chest more often these days—knew I couldn't keep pretending.
I sighed and looked up at the hallway ahead.
But then, just for a moment, my mind drifted back to something else.
Zayn.
I had expected shock when he saw me. Maybe even awkwardness. But he had been… calm. Steady. The same as always.
And yet, when he asked if I was okay, there was something in his voice. Something familiar.
I smiled a little to myself. After all these years, after everything, running into him like this—it felt strange. But it also felt… nice.
Still, as I stepped out of the hospital and looked down at the paper again, that uneasiness crept back in.
I didn't want to be here.
And I really didn't want to know what these tests would say.
I made my way to the testing department, gripping the paper a little too tightly. My fingers felt cold, and no matter how many times I told myself to relax, my chest still felt tight.
The hallway smelled like antiseptic and something too clean, too sterile. It reminded me why I hated hospitals.
I checked in at the front desk, handing over the paper. The nurse gave me a polite smile and told me to wait. I nodded, but my legs felt restless. My body wanted to move, to run, to be anywhere but here.
A few minutes later, a technician called my name.
I followed them inside, sitting down as they prepped for the tests. Blood works first. The needle barely registered, but my heart was pounding for another reason.
Next was the ECG. I laid down as they attached the electrodes to my chest, the cold gel sending a small shiver through me.
"Just relax," the technician said.
Relax? I wasn't sure I knew how to anymore.
The machine beeped softly, recording my heartbeat. I stared at the ceiling, swallowing hard. What if something was wrong? What if I had ignored this for too long?
I forced myself to breathe. It's nothing. Just routine. I'm fine.
But the uneasiness in my chest told me I didn't really believe that.
I sat there, waiting for the tests to finish, my fingers gripping the edge of the examination table. The room felt too quiet, too cold.
My eyes wandered to the walls—plain, dull, lifeless. A washed-out shade of blue that looked like it had been there forever. Hospitals always felt like this. Empty. Heavy.
I shifted uncomfortably, my chest feeling tight again, but I didn't know if it was from nerves or something else.
The beeping of the machines filled the silence. Each sound made my stomach twist.
I shouldn't be here.
I should be out there, doing what I always did, not lying on this stiff table, hooked up to machines like I was fragile.
But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay still. Just get through this. It's nothing. It has to be nothing.
Still, as I stared at those dull walls, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change.
I sat there, waiting for the tests to finish, my fingers gripping the edge of the examination table. The room felt too quiet, too cold.
My eyes wandered to the walls—plain, dull, lifeless. A washed-out shade of blue that looked like it had been there forever. Hospitals always felt like this. Empty. Heavy.
I shifted uncomfortably, my chest feeling tight again, but I didn't know if it was from nerves or something else.
The beeping of the machines filled the silence. Each sound made my stomach twist.
My eyes stayed on the dull walls, my thoughts drifting, unwillingly, to him.
This room—it wasn't just familiar because of the hospitals Sylus had been in before. It was familiar because of how it felt.
Cold. Empty. Detached.
Just like him.
No warmth, no comfort, just a space that existed to serve a purpose. Just like the way he had been with me. Always there, always close, but never truly with me.
I used to tell myself it was just how he was, that he loved me in his own way. That his silence, his distance, wasn't a lack of care.
But now, sitting in this cold, lifeless room, I realized—maybe I had just been lying to myself.
Maybe I had been holding onto something that was never really there.
To be continued.....