Rebirth Into My Second Chance

He had this faint scent of sandalwood about him, probably because of the scented candles he kept lit in his office all year round. It seemed his shirts were all that aroma. It was like when I went home in my jacket, which was so overwhelmed with the smell of alcohol that I didn't catch the sandalwood scent.

His voice was cold and alert, "What are you doing?"

I pursed my lips, surprised by his vigilance even while injured and possibly concussed. I couldn't help but wonder, 'Is he just a doctor, or is there more to him? Those muscles weren't just for show. It seemed Max had maintained them through regular, intense workouts. "I just wanted to check if your wound was bleeding." I lied to him with a stern face, and Max finally let go of my hand. I stood up, my face flushing to my ears.

"Dr. Hilton, how are you feeling now? Are you in pain?" As a doctor, I quickly regained my composure and asked Max as I would any patient.

"I'm fine." As he spoke, he abruptly pulled out his IV and tossed it aside. "I'm okay. You can go now."

I scratched my head, knowing as a fellow doctor and my mentor, if he didn't want the IV, there wasn't much I could say.

But given his condition, if I left, and he fainted from low blood pressure or his wound reopened, I would be fully responsible. Given the amount of blood he lost, he needed a transfusion.

I said, "How about I stay here with you? If you get hungry, I can order some takeout."

barely lifted his eyelids to look at me, his lips parting slightly to say,

"Then I'll wait in my

one to force my company on anyone, and I didn't know Max well yet.

felt odd to stay overnight in his office

Dr. Hilton called, asking you to go to his office and review yesterday's surgery procedure with him again." When I opened the door, the nurse looked at me sympathetically, "Dr. Hilton is a workaholic. You have our sympathies,

moment ago, he had sent me away, but he had found an excuse to

open the door, I heard him on the

to notice my entrance. After hanging up, he turned to me. "Moving

silhouette

on the phone,

with abdominal injuries at least bend slightly to avoid straining the wound. But there

stood straight.

to doubt your professionalism. You're standing as rigid as a tower. Of course, your wound would reopen. Don't blame me if you say my suturing was at fault, affecting my internship report!" That was probably

was revenge, not romance. Max was my mentor. It did not harm to