On the day of high school graduation, in front of the entire class, I threw a thick stack of cash at Silas Carter’s feet. "I’m bored with this. Let’s call it quits." He knelt down, picking up the bills one by one. With a raspy voice, he said only one word: "Okay." By the end of summer, Silas boarded a train for Harvard. I boarded a flight out of state to begin a long, grueling journey of chemotherapy. Many years later, I returned home. I was lying in a hospital bed, my hair completely gone from the treatments. Just as I was busy picking out a wig on my phone, the ward door swung open. There stood Silas Carter in a white lab coat. Our eyes met. 01 When Silas walked in, I was facedown on the bed, positioned awkwardly for an exam. My phone was blaring the high-pitched voice of an Amazon influencer: "Prime Day deals! Don't miss out, these wigs are selling fast!" "Miss Bennett? Looking at hair pieces again?" The noisy room went silent instantly. The nurse pointed at me. "Dr. Carter, this is the new patient for the clinical trial. She’s already signed the consent forms." The moment Silas looked at me, I froze like a deer in headlights. My mind went completely blank. Ten years. The man I thought I’d never see again had suddenly become my attending physician. And he walked in right while I was doing my post-op exercises. I wanted to die. I scrambled up, frantically adjusting my lopsided surgical mask. I sat there, frozen. Even though I didn't look him in the eye, I could feel his gaze landing on me. It was icy. Cold. It was nothing like the helpless, gentle look he used to give me when I got a math problem wrong ten years ago. "Miss Bennett, this is the head of our department, Dr. Silas Carter. He will be personally overseeing your treatment plan." I dodged his gaze and gave a quick, jerky nod. I didn't make a sound. The med student standing beside him opened my chart and began reciting my history. "Maya Bennett, female, 28. Ten years ago, a routine physical revealed enlarged cervical lymph nodes. Initial diagnosis: Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Further biopsy showed—" "I don't need to hear the rest," Silas interrupted. "Oh? Do you know this patient, Doctor?" My heart jumped into my throat. I pretended to be busy fiddling with my phone. I could feel Silas staring at the ridiculous knitted beanie on my head—the one with the little sheep ears. After a long pause, he said flatly, "I don't. But her case is unique. I reviewed the files beforehand." My phone screen automatically jumped to the checkout page. The timer was counting down. Seconds ticked by. I was so dazed that I forgot to hit "buy." The med student finished reporting the plan. Silas listened, his voice devoid of any personal emotion. "Fine. Continue the current regimen. Recheck tomorrow." Then, he moved on to the next patient. He was in the ward for twenty minutes. Until the moment he left, he never looked at me again. I moved my stiff neck and realized my back was soaked with sweat. The link for the wig had expired. It was sold out. Dammit. But the only thing I could be grateful for was that Silas had clearly forgotten me. Even when the student read my full name, he hadn't flinched. 02 When Silas and I first met, we didn't get along. I was a brat with a rich father, acting out and failing every class. The principal, hoping Silas’s brilliance would rub off on me, made him my desk mate. At first, Silas ignored me. He spent every day buried in his SAT prep books, over and over. He was smart, kind, and gorgeous. His only "flaw" was that he was poor. I was the opposite. I wasn't smart, I wasn't particularly kind. Sitting next to him, I looked like a brainless socialite. Luckily, my social intelligence was high. While all the other girls sent him flowers and love letters, I bought him the most expensive Princeton Review and Barron’s prep sets. I bought every single one of his textbooks and exam fees. Within a semester, I had won him over. The day I tentatively kissed him was his birthday. His white shirt was wrinkled, my lipstick was smudged on his lips, and he looked down at me. "What does this mean?" It was my first time kissing a boy. My brain short-circuited. I stammered, "D-don't you get it? Be my boyfriend." The tips of Silas’s ears turned red. He whispered, "Okay." Those were the good days. I hated studying, but I would sit obediently by his side in the library, listening to him tutor me. In one year, my scores went up by hundreds of points. I was on track to get into a university in New York. I wouldn't have to do long-distance with him. If only that physical hadn't happened... "BLEGH—" My retching echoed in the hospital bathroom. I clutched the toilet, my vision swimming, drenched in a cold sweat. My best friend, Chloe, rubbed my back. "This isn't working. Your reaction is too intense. I’m going to find the doctor." I grabbed her hand. "Don't. I’m used to it." During my first bout years ago, I went through 27 rounds of chemo alone. I survived. I held on for ten years, but the cancer came back. I didn't want to be a nuisance to the doctors every time I felt sick. Chloe wasn't having it. "Isn't Silas your lead doctor? I’ll find him. He’ll have a way to help." I hugged Chloe’s leg. "My dear, please, just drop it. You should be glad he hasn't recognized me. If he does, he’ll probably order a hundred more rounds of chemo just for revenge." "Who told you we do a hundred rounds of chemo?" A cold voice came from behind us. I froze. I didn't dare turn around. Chloe let out a breath of relief. "Dr. Carter, Maya isn't feeling well—" "It’s a normal reaction to the treatment. If she can't handle it..." I didn't hear what else he said to Chloe. My mind was stuck on one thought: Did he hear what I just said? 03 That evening, the nurse came in to give me an anti-nausea shot. She looked at me curiously. "Do you know Dr. Carter personally?" I lay on the bed, feeling like a ghost. "No. Why do you ask?" "Dr. Carter never handles these small details himself. But he went to the office personally today to tell your primary care physician to order these specific shots for you." I looked at myself in the mirror. I had lost so much weight. The pain had drained the color from my face. Compared to ten years ago, I looked like a different person. There was no way... Even if Silas had a great memory... Wait. He did have a great memory. What if he was just biding his time to get back at me? The name "Maya Bennett" was right there on my chart. How could I think he wouldn't know? Chloe chimed in, "Is your Dr. Carter really only 28? He’s already a department head?" "Oh, you did your research! Dr. Carter was a prodigy. MD-PhD, graduated by 26. His resume is one in a million. Most people can't compare." The nurse saw Chloe’s interest and smiled. "Thinking of chasing him? Save your breath. He’s already spoken for." Chloe winked at me. The nurse continued, "The Dean’s daughter. She’s a PhD from Oxford. Word is, they’ll be married soon." The smile died on Chloe’s lips. I started picking at a loose thread on my hospital gown, suddenly finding it the most interesting thing in the world. After the nurse left, Chloe whispered, "Maya, I’m so sorry..." "Hey, it’s fine." "I’m 28 now, not 18." The dream of the cold, handsome god falling for me ended ten years ago. 04 I didn't see Silas again after that day. I couldn't see him, but I heard about him. He was either away at a medical conference or in the lab doing research. He only came for rounds once a week to adjust treatment plans. During the break between chemo cycles, patients are allowed to go home. I didn't see him until the day I was discharged. On my way home, I got a call from my old high school class president, Marcus. "Maya! Are you still in the city? How’s the treatment going?" The background was noisy. It sounded like a party. The old valedictorian’s voice cut in: "Why didn't you tell us you were sick? If Marcus hadn't mentioned it, we wouldn't have known." I was actually pretty popular in high school. I’d kept in touch with Marcus and a few others. I laughed weakly. "I didn't want to bother anyone." "That’s nonsense. Where are you staying? We’re coming to see you tomorrow." I couldn't say no to their kindness, so I gave them my address. My family had spent a lot of money on my treatments over the years. Thanks to Chloe, I’d found a relatively cheap apartment to rent near the hospital. It was a ground-floor unit with a small yard. When I felt well enough, I could plant flowers or maybe get a dog. Half our class stayed in our hometown; the rest were scattered across the country. Only five or six people showed up. They arrived with bags of groceries. "We wanted to go out for hot pot, but it’s too hot. Let's just cook here." I was wearing a thick beanie. I smiled. "It’s fine, I have AC. I missed hot pot." They piled into the kitchen, shouting and laughing. The house suddenly felt alive. It felt like graduation all over again. Marcus asked while peeling carrots, "Have you reached out to Silas?" I froze for a second. "What?" "Come on, didn't you know? He’s a world-renowned specialist in hematology. He specializes in lymphomas. Why didn't you ask him for a consult?" "Oh, I—" I really didn't want to be linked to Silas again. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Marcus wiped his hands on his apron and went to open it. Then, I heard the cheers. "Silas! You actually made it!" "Wow, Dr. Carter, long time no see." "Come in! Maya wants hot pot. You’re the expert—can she even eat that?" I stood there like an idiot. My face was bare, no mask, no makeup. I felt exposed, like I was standing under a spotlight. I didn't expect them to contact him. And I definitely didn't expect to face him while I looked like this. Silas looked at me calmly. "Keep the broth mild," he said softly. "Right, right! Listen to the doctor. No spicy broth!" Everyone went back to being busy. Silas took off his shoes and stepped into the guest slippers Marcus gave him. He handed a bag of fruit to the people in the kitchen. Marcus tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, whatever happened is in the past." "Let bygones be bygones. Silas, you’re a big-shot now, don't hold a grudge against Maya." "Here, help us prep the greens." Silas was handed a colander full of spinach. He was pushed toward the sofa. Suddenly, it was just the two of us in the living room. The AC hummed in the corner. I dodged his eyes, frantically reaching for the mask I’d left on the couch. Silas snapped a spinach stem with a crisp pop. He said flatly: "You’ve already recognized me. Is there really a point in hiding?" 05 The atmosphere was suffocatingly awkward. Actually, I was the only one who felt awkward. I hesitated, then slowly pulled my hand back, feeling defeated. "I thought you didn't recognize me. That’s why I didn't say hi at the hospital." "There was no need." "What?" "We aren't close. No need for greetings." Silas kept his head down, expertly prepping the spinach. He had no intention of chatting. I nodded silently and pushed a glass of water toward him. "Drink some... water." "I'm not thirsty. Thanks." Cold. So cold. Since he rejected me, I didn't want to keep embarrassing myself. I just sat there. I tried to remember if I’d done anything humiliating during my hospital stay. Marcus poked his head out of the kitchen. "Maya, we’re out of paper towels. Grab me a roll?" "Oh, sure." I stood up quickly and started rummaging through the bottom of a cabinet. The landlord's furniture was old. When I pulled the drawer, the whole cabinet shook. A heavy photo frame on the top shelf lost its balance and started to tip. By the time I realized it, it was too late. I just crouched down and covered my head. I waited for the impact. The next second, the light dimmed. Silas had reached out and caught the frame. Because his back was to the light, I couldn't see his face, but the air around him felt frigid. He didn't look happy. "Thanks," I whispered. Silas ignored me. When I crawled out from under the cabinet, I saw what he was looking at. It was a photo I’d secretly taken of Silas sleeping ten years ago. The summer sun was filtering through the trees, landing on his sharp profile. He was fast asleep. He hadn't even noticed me tentatively reaching out to touch his hand. In that moment, I seriously considered snatching the photo and eating it. "Maya Bennett." "Yeah?" "Explain this." I paused, instinctively reaching up to scratch my head. A clump of hair came away in my fingers. Under Silas’s freezing gaze, I forced a laugh. "It’s just... an 'Ex Wall,' right? Haha. Just for memories—" "Oh? Is that so?" Silas pointed to a group of photos of me and Chloe. His voice took on a sharp edge. "According to you, you’ve dated girls too?" I swallowed hard. "Y-yeah. I... I’ve dated everyone." Silas’s sharp gaze felt like it was burning through me. I couldn't keep the fake smile up. I looked everywhere but at him. "Maya, you guys—" Marcus opened the kitchen door, sensed the weird tension, and immediately shut his mouth. Silas’s face was dark. He put the frame back, wiped his hands with a tissue, and grabbed his jacket. "Hey, Silas! Where are you going?" "Emergency at the hospital. I have to go." "Wait, we haven't finished talking about Maya’s case... Silas, stay for dinner!" Silas stood at the door and looked at me. I said nothing. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something. But he was disappointed. I stayed silent. Silas let out a very soft, mocking laugh. "Is there really a point in an unwelcome ex staying here?" The door clicked shut. Silas was gone. 06 Silas’s departure cast a shadow over the room for a minute. But soon, the smell of Marcus’s hot pot broth brightened things up. "Marcus, you’ve still got it. Your cooking is amazing." Marcus chuckled, holding a beer. He nodded at me. "Maya, don't take it to heart. Silas... hey, I’ll talk to him! He’s got to give his old class president some respect!" The others chimed in with comforts. "When I called him, he sounded busy. But he’s a professional, he’ll help you." "Yeah, let’s eat!" I wasn't actually that hurt. Mostly, I just felt guilty. In my mind, Silas and I shouldn't have any more overlap. I didn't want to bring him more trouble because of my illness. We had a lively dinner. Marcus even started a FaceTime call with the whole class group. The group chat exploded. For a moment, it felt like the days before the SATs. Everyone was talking about their dreams. Planning graduation trips. Back then, Silas and I were desk mates. A week before the finals, he came back from the teacher's office and saw me with a red marker, doodling on a map. He asked, "What are you doing?" I held up the map and waved it in front of him. "Can't you tell? It's New York!" I’d drawn two red circles. "This is your school. And this one... this is mine." I drew a straight line between them. "The shortest distance between two points. That’s how far apart we’ll be." Silas couldn't help but smile. "You think you can get into a school in the city?" "What, you wouldn't be happy?" He sat down next to me, neatly stacking his papers. He said softly, "I’d be very happy." But my luck was bad. A few days later, I got my physical results. The labs were a disaster. Warning arrows covered the page. The doctor told my parents we needed to go to a specialist in the city immediately. From the looks of it, I wouldn't be going to college at all. I tentatively asked Silas, "Hey, what if I got really sick one day and couldn't go to New York? What would you do?" Silas’s pen stopped. He frowned. "Are you sick?" "No! Don't jinx me! It’s an online personality quiz! Answer seriously!" "I’d probably get into the best med school I could. I’d just change my major." That answer made my heart ache. I pushed my math homework onto his desk. "Whatever, just do your math problems! Nerd." He loved math. Why would he want to be a doctor? On the afternoon the finals were ending, I got a nosebleed. Blood stained the exam paper. I didn't know if it counted as "tampering" with the test. It didn't matter. I left that night for a hospital out of state. Standing on a busy city street, I wanted to cry. The New York promise... I was the one who arrived first. Then came the diagnosis. Packing my bags. I threw that cash at Silas in front of everyone. I ended our story with a messy, cruel period.
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