Chapter 1
Alex Miller
The emergency room reverberated with the hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic beeping of machines, drowned only by the cacophony of the bustling crowd. Alex Miller, loathing every second of his ER shift, sighed as he tried, but probably failed, to smile at the patient. The unusually busy day was hardly surprising given the rampant flu outbreak. His mind craved an immediate escape, yet here he was, surrounded by the routine, navigating the chaos that filled every corner of the ER.
Mrs. Jenkins, an over-worried mother convinced her child’s chocolate cake consumption at a party had somehow led to dire health consequences, kept going on and on about the dangers of consuming sugar, every now and then giving her daughter an angry look. The poor daughter seemed as cornered as Alex was feeling. As amusing as it was, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration. It was the third time this month she had brought her child to the ER for what appeared to be no good reason. Her angry monologue blended with the ambient noise of the busy ER, creating an unbearable noise that Alex would have preferred to escape.
Alex cleared his throat, his tone taking on a stern edge. “Mrs. Jenkins, rest assured, your daughter’s cake consumption is not a mission for disaster. In fact, occasional treats are like the sprinkles on the cupcake of life,” Mrs. Jenkins gave him a disbelieving look, not willing to accept Alex had actually make that joke. Alex was actually quite proud of himself for that. The smile the daughter was giving him was also worth the trouble he was probably going to get into if she filed a report … again.
He couldn’t shake the lingering resentment over his recent punishment—a ban from the diagnostics team for his rebellion in the previous case. A clash with the patient’s parents had earned him a stint in the ER, a place he deemed far beneath his expertise. The dean’s words still echoed in his mind, urging him to “learn some manners” during his time in this purgatory.
“But, …” Mrs. Jenkins tried to start again.
“I know you want me to scare her off sweets,” Alex said, finally losing patience. “Why do you insist on giving her a phobia of birthdays?” He could tell she was getting ready to bite his head off and skillfully looked at the other side of the room to avoid her glare. Scanning the ER to find an excuse to get away from her, his eyes fell upon a figure with dark hair seated in a sterile chair. Something about him piqued Alex’s interest, maybe the way he was trying to hide the pain he was obviously feeling, or maybe the ways his eyes were darting around the room as though a disaster was about to strike any second. Trusting his intuition, and also really wanting to escape the momzilla, he took long strides to the other side of the ER.
Approaching Mazyar Nouri, that was the name written on the paperwork thrown haphazardly next to him, who winced as he was being examined by a nurse, Alex couldn’t help but notice the determination in his eyes. He kept mumbling he was fine to the nurse who was quickly losing patience.
“You sure you’re fine?” Alex inquired, catching the brief flicker of pain in Mazyar’s eyes as he stood next to him to get the look at the injury he was badly trying to hide.
Mazyar, determined to downplay the situation, forced a tight-lipped smile. “Just a little bike accident, nothing to worry about.”
Alex raised an eyebrow, his wit surfacing. “Must have been quite the acrobatic bike ride. Practicing for Tour da France?” Yes, it was a lame joke, but he wanted to test the waters, see how everything would play itself.
Mazyar’s stoic expression cracked for a moment, a hint of amusement lighting up his eyes. “Well, you caught me,” he replied, deflecting with a nonchalant shrug.
“I got this,” Alex told the nurse as he waited for her to move aside. She gave him an incredulous look, probably wanting to give him a sarcastic remark, but decided against it and moved to the other patient who, unsurprisingly, seemed to be having a bad case of the flu. Judging from the wince Mazyar gave as his left side was touched, it was either a rib fracture or a spleen surgery, but the man seemed to be handling the pain well.
With the nurse momentarily out of earshot, Alex leaned in slightly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “So, Tour de France aside, how did the bike accident happen?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.
Mazyar, still trying to downplay the situation, evaded the question with practiced finesse. “Just a moment of clumsiness. Nothing exciting, really,” he replied, offering a vague smile.
He was obviously lying. This was no bike accident. From the state of his clothes, to the bruise forming right under his right eyebrow, it was clear there had been a fight, and a bad one at that.
“So, a tumble off the bike or a disagreement with a brick wall? Your clothes suggest a different story,” Alex teased, the playful glint still in his eyes.
Mazyar’s eyes widened momentarily, a flicker of fear passing through them. He grabbed Alex’s gloved hand, unintentionally turning the examination into a moment of electrifying touch. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve got to go. The pain is not that bad” he said, his tone uneasy. Without waiting for a response, he stood up, muttered something vague about being fine, and bolted for the door.
Alex really had to stop him. The injury seemed to need watchful observation at the very least, but something told him he could not stop him unless guards were involved and a piece of him did not want to lose this opportunity. Even though his conscious mind did not know what opportunity he meant.
As the man made his way towards the exit, a woman entered, panic etched across her features. She looked at the now empty chair and then Alex. “I’m looking for the man who helped me out while I was being … ah … stalked. He had dark hair and was wearing a jeans jacket,” she explained, her eyes scanning the room for the familiar face who was no longer there.
Alex’s interest heightened. “You mean the guy who was just sitting here?”
The woman nodded, her disheveled hair falling to her face. “He … he left this,” the woman replied as she extended her hand, showing a pair of broken glasses. her gratitude evident. “I wanted to return these,” her tone was etched with a mix of gratitude and guilt. She handed the glasses to Alex without a second though.
Alex was deep in thought when the familiar voice of his teammate, Dr. Sarah Rodriguez, broke him out of his trail. appeared in the ER, a mixture of surprise and amusement playing on her features. “Alex Miller, holding down the fort in the ER for more than 10 minutes? Now, that’s a sight I never thought I’d see. You seem to be enjoying the punishment.”
Alex rolled his eyes, offering a wry smile. “Very funny, Sarah. Just helping out where needed.”
Sarah chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re not fooling anyone. What mystery caught your attention this time? A man rising from the dead?”
Alex wanted to reply with something witty, but his eyes fell on the empty chair again and he lost focus. His mind lingered on the recent encounter with Mazyar. The woman seeking him out, the evasiveness in Mazyar’s eyes—there was a puzzle here, one he couldn’t ignore. Either he was too bored and was making too much of something that wasn’t really there, or this tingling feeling actually meant something. A feeling of caution crept over him, a sense that there might be something beneath the surface he shouldn’t pursue.
“Oh, just exploring,” Alex finally replied casually, though the wheels in his mind were turning. “By the way, did you see the guy I was examining a moment ago?” He tried to be as nonchalant and uninterested as possible.
Sarah raised an eyebrow. ” You’re interested in someone from the ER? What’s the story there?”
Alex smirked, leaning against the counter with practiced nonchalance. “Just trying to bring a bit of excitement here. You know, playing detective in the ER – it’s the latest trend.” He gave her a small smile.
Sarah chuckled, shaking her head. “You and your antics. Well, good luck with your ‘detective work.’ I’ll stick to the real medical cases.” She gave him a knowing look before heading off.
As Sarah walked away, Alex’s gaze lingered on the broken glasses in his hand. The puzzle pieces were scattered, and unfinished puzzles were something he was not good at leaving. he pocketed the broken glasses, knowing full well this story was far from over.
Mazyar Nouri
The emergency room resonated with the sharp scent of antiseptics and the cacophony of coughs from the surrounding crowd. Mazyar Nouri, occupying a sterile chair, winced as a nurse probed at his injury. The stuffy air mingled with the moans and whines of the patients was making everything unbearable. Yet, Mazyar remained resolute in his determination to downplay the situation.
The nurse persisted, asking, “You sure you’re fine?” Mazyar forced a tight-lipped smile. “Just a little bike accident, nothing to worry about.”
A doctor, Alex Miller as was written on his chest, approached with an air of curiosity. His playful inquiry about a Tour de France-style bike ride cracked Mazyar’s stoic façade for a second, and a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “Well, you caught me,” Mazyar replied, deflecting with a nonchalant shrug.
As the nurse momentarily left them, Alex leaned in with a playful glint in his eyes. Those eyes were so blue. “So, Tour de France aside, how did the bike accident happen?” he asked. Mazyar, skilled in evasion, replied, “Just a moment of clumsiness. Nothing exciting, really.”
However, Alex’s teasing continued, pointing out the obvious lie. Mazyar’s eyes widened momentarily, fear flashing through them. In an unintentional moment of vulnerability, he grabbed Alex’s gloved hand, the touch sending a jolt through him. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve got to go. The pain is not that bad,” he said, his tone uneasy. Without waiting for a response, he stood up, muttered something about being fine, and made a swift exit.
As Mazyar navigated his way towards the exit, a panicked woman entered. Upon closer examination, Mazyar realized it was the woman was being stalked on the street. Her eyes were scanning the room for the familiar face, and Mazyar left as fast as the pain on his left side would let him.
He stood behind the glassed door, his curiosity getting the better of him for a second. The woman handed the blue-eyed doctor Mazyar’s broken glasses. The doctor was talking to a colleague with blonde hair. From the looks of it, they were either friends or something more. That was an uneasy thought he was no willing to entertain more.
He was half expecting the doctor to throw the glasses away, but to his surprise, the man pocketed the glasses, a far-away look in his eyes. Alright, fun time was over. He had to get back home and deal with the pain with an OTC medicine the best way he could. As he limbed towards the street while trying to avoid gazes, his thought returned to the doctor with the playful smile. No, he did not have time for that, but tried as he might, a voice inside his head told him things were far from over.
