Chapter 6
I froze.
"What question?" I asked.
"The extra credit question on the final last semester about the molecular mechanisms of ventricular remodeling," Julian said.
My head was buzzing with shock.
That ridiculously tough extra credit question was worth a whole twenty points.
During the exam, I racked my brain but could only write out half of my answer.
Because of that question, I lost to Julian by half a point and had to settle for second place in the grade.
That had been a thorn in my side.
"Why are you asking?" I said, a bit annoyed. "Are you bragging because you got first?"
"No," Julian replied, shaking his head.
His eyes stayed on me.
"The key to that question was a signaling pathway most people overlooked," Julian said. "I found a paper about it in an old journal up on the top floor of the library."
He said it so calmly, like it was nothing important.
But it felt like someone had hit me right in the chest.
Up on the top floor of the library were old, barely-touched journals.
I'd practically torn through all the usual study materials trying to beat him.
But it never occurred to me to look for answers in those forgotten corners.
So his so-called "talent" was really the result of hard work I never knew about.
We'd been at each other's throats for years.
I always thought all we had was competition and resentment.
I never imagined he'd want to discuss academic questions with me.
And I definitely never expected him to tell me, like this, exactly why I lost.
The hospital room was quiet.
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, leaving speckled patches across the floor.
I looked at Julian, lying in that hospital bed. For the first time, I realized I'd never truly understood him.
*****
After that day, things between Julian and me changed in a way I couldn't quite put my finger on.
We still bickered and traded jabs.
But the tension, the old sense of rivalry, seemed to fade.
Instead, there was this vague, unspoken sense of understanding.
I started getting used to hanging around after my rounds, to spend a little time with him.
Our conversations gradually shifted from his condition to our studies and research.
We talked about the latest Lancet articles, and even some tricky clinical cases.
I was surprised to realize how deep Julian's expertise really went, far beyond what I'd ever imagined.
He always had a way of looking at things from angles I'd never even considered.
And sometimes, insights from my clinical rotations would spark new ideas for him.
It felt like we were two perfectly matched warriors, sparring back and forth.
With every exchange, a grudging respect, almost a sense of camaraderie, began to grow between us.
It was a new feeling, and honestly, a little dangerous.
I kept reminding myself that he was my archnemesis and we could only ever be that way.
But somehow, the defenses I'd built around my heart were starting to slip.
Everything changed on a rainy night.
It was the middle of the night when the hospital suddenly got hit with a wave of patients from a pileup.
The whole department was thrown into chaos.
I was running back and forth between the ER and the OR with Brian for nearly eight hours straight.
By three in the morning, my legs felt like they were made of lead as I finally dragged myself back to the inpatient ward.
I was so exhausted, I didn't want to move a finger.
All I wanted was to collapse somewhere and sleep like the dead.
As I passed by Ward 33, I instinctively glanced inside.
Right away, I could tell something was off.
The monitor next to Julian's bed suddenly blared with an abnormal, urgent alarm.
My heart dropped, and any trace of exhaustion vanished instantly.
I nearly kicked the door open as I rushed inside.
"Julian!" I shouted.
I lunged to his bedside and saw his face flushed, lips cracked, and his breathing coming fast and ragged.
I reached out and touched his forehead. It was burning up.
He got a fever.
It was a post-op infection.
My mind was screaming with alarm.
I immediately checked his wound for signs of infection. Thankfully, there was no swelling or oozing.
Since the wound looked clean, it had to be another complication.
I quickly hooked him up to the ECG monitor, started an IV, and began cooling him down with physical methods.
Then I alerted the on-call doctor as fast as I could.
When the on-call doctor, Mike Leroy, arrived, he immediately ordered a CBC and other relevant tests.
Throughout the whole process, I was like a wind-up toy, calm and efficient as I followed every instruction.
I drew blood, set up a urine collection, and prepped the antibiotics.
By the time all the urgent interventions were finished, more than half an hour had gone by.
Mike patted my shoulder.
"You handled it promptly, Alyssa. Nice work," he said. "Now we wait for the test results. I'll go check on the other patients."
After the doctor left, the room fell quiet again.