Rebirth Into My Second Chance

I woke up with the crack of dawn, buzzing with excitement. Max had mentioned a surgery for me to observe, and I knew these chances were few and far between.

As usual, I grabbed a piece of toast, barely giving the milk in the fridge a second glance. It had been days; it was definitely past its prime.

Just as I was about to take the milk downstairs to the trash, I bumped into Max stepping out of his apartment. The last thing I wanted was for him to see the expired milk - especially since it was a gift from him. I feared it might seem disrespectful, risking a poor evaluation at work or during our practical exams.

But his sharp eyes caught sight of it anyway. "It's gone bad. Get a new one," he said, his words always sparing but his actions generous, handing me a fresh bottle.

The sight of the new milk bottle puzzled me even more. If he wasn't part of the Hilton family, how did he always have a fresh supply?

"And did Claude give you this milk again?" I questioned, my curiosity piqued.

He coughed lightly. "Hmm," was his delayed reply.

I put on a weak smile. He could lie without a flinch.

"Because Claude claims he doesn't know a Max."

Another cough escaped him. "Used a pseudonym for Mr. Hart's business," he confessed, hardly making eye contact.

delve deeper, the elevator arrived. He stepped in first, hitting the

ride, and I didn't ask. Our relationship wasn't

out of the elevator, his

and headed

milk bottle to an elderly

about Claude and Kate, was just a nuisance,

car driving past the bus. I hope he didn't see me give

the

already geared up for surgery. I quickly scrubbed in, joining him in the

up, his voice cold, "Come

from the nurses made me even more nervous; this was my first hands-on

Thankfully had reviewed the

and images

night before. I had a

Max hadn't moved at all. Now I understood why he insisted I have a

faint and sweating bullets, I realized the single piece of toast I had eaten