The Way To A Man’s Heart

The seconds ticking on the clock begin to become more palpable as the minutes stretch into hours. A sense of foreboding lurks under the surface. This isn’t the first time this has happened to her but patience is a virtue after all.

Following the tumultuous day she’s had battling countless wanderers in a forest near the east of Linkon City, she needs to see him. She can’t even recall the last time she’s slept but something is keeping her from passing out right on the couch inside his office.

It had already been well into the wee hours of the night when he’d texted her if she was done with work; clearly, he’d been keeping an eye on the news whenever he could steal a glance and had known she’d be occupied by the recent appearance of a horde of Wanderers.

The armed conflict had sapped all of her strength both mentally and physically and despite being on the verge of crashing, all it took was one message from him to come and see him so that he could take her home for her spirit to be renewed.

With how busy they’ve been, she hasn’t had the opportunity to see him as much as she would’ve liked. Besides, he’s also so committed to his work that he’s only off one or two days in a month when they can truly spend time together.

Alone.

Hope had fluttered in her heart, warming her chest, as she’d changed out of her uniform, opting for some casual wear and rushed over to Akso Hospital, with the intention of seeing Zayne. Those hopes were immediately dashed when she’d strided into his office.

The same office he’d given her permission to enter whenever she desires. A ******all ******ile flickers across her face momentarily at what that had meant when he’d uttered it in that nonchalant manner of his.

However, Zayne was nowhere to be found in his office. She has an inkling of what must have transpired between the period he had sent his last text to her and the time it has taken her to get here from the east of Linkon City.

A yellow sticky note left on his desk, that stands out in contrast, indicates as much. A sudden emergency surgery must have required his immediate attention and with Zayne being who he is, naturally, he had sprung up into action.

After caressing the note he had left behind for her, she had paced around his office, spending much time in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows while she’d admired the beautiful, white snowfall and the beautiful lights of the skyscrapers opposite Akso Hospital.

It almost looks magical from here.

Gradually, the colours of the sky begin to shift as the first warm rays of the sun begin to light up the city. Quite a few hours had passed since her arrival. But still, she waits imperturbably.

Out of the corner of her eye, a dark pocket notebook catches her attention. She’s never seen that in Zayne’s office before. Marching over to it, she gently strokes her fingertips over its cover prior to flipping it open.

A few strings of lines are what greet her and her brows furrow in confusion, wondering what it could be. It’s clearly not cryptic notes written in a cipher. Most of them look too similar.

Before she can mull it over further though, the doors to Zayne’s office swing open and in comes a man, who can only be described as broken.

They only need to share a gaze for her to comprehend what exactly has transpired. Momentarily, the doctor glances at the notebook her hand is still on and his eyes widen imperceptibly.

The Hunter doesn’t notice it, however.

She’s already on her way to meeting Zayne before throwing her arms around him in an embrace. Words do not need to be exchanged. She has seen him in this state countless times to know that his patient hasn’t made it.

Silence fills the air between them for a while and slowly, but reluctantly she parts from him, bringing a hand up to cup his face gently. Zayne flinches slightly, causing her hand to fall to the side.

“You did your best,” is all she says. The Hunter knows that the cardiac surgeon comprehends this innately, of course, but she’s also able to perceive how hard Zayne takes these incidents at times, viewing himself as a failure.

Asking him to focus on the numerous lives he has saved hasn’t worked in the past and tonight or rather, today, she’s too exhausted to convince him to change his perspective. Conscious that Zayne still hasn’t said a word since entering his office, she quietly makes her way to his desk where his briefcase is already packed.

Picking it up, she places its sling over his broad shoulder, not even bothering to divest him of his coat. Realising something, she places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze, in hopes that it will pull Zayne out of the trance he seems to be in.

“I just need the washroom and then, we can be off.” Without another word, she races out. Getting out of this cold hospital is exactly what the doctor needs now, she muses.

Not long later, she’s back inside Dr. Zayne’s office, collecting her things before she laces her fingers with his to drag him out.

What the Hunter, however, does not notice is the fact that Zayne has moved from the spot she had abandoned him in earlier and had picked up his notebook, adding to the tally of vertical lines drawn inside before she’d made her eventual return.

Oblivious, the woman pulls him toward the elevator, navigating the hospital until they’re right in front of Zayne’s car in the car park. “You okay to drive?” she questions softly, rubbing her fingertips over his knuckles as she pulls his hand up.

They’re full of scars.

The doctor nods, and without uttering a word, sits in the driver’s seat. In an attempt to distract him, the Hunter who is now in the passenger seat turns on the radio, humming along to the tune that is playing.

The sun has risen a lot more since she’d last glimpsed its first rays from outside Zayne’s office and she can only hope that its warmth will comfort the doctor in a way her words will not be able to.

Before long, Zayne has parked in front of her place and she considers his side profile for a moment prior to making up her mind. “Would you like to stop by? I could make you the “perfect” breakfast you always like to cook for me; scrambled eggs, toast and some hot coffee?”

Moments pass. Only the soft, melodic music from the car radio can be heard. Letting out a sigh, she begins to stand before Zayne places a hand over hers. “…I’d like that,” the doctor whispers before meeting her eyes.