The Lover Who Chooses Me: Hearts Wide Open: Chapter 4

He risks everything for one impossible night

Gabriel doesn't come to the stairwell that night.

Or the next.

For three days, he's professional. Polite. Distant as a stranger.

I tell myself it's better this way. Safer. Smart.

I tell myself that kiss meant nothing.

I'm a terrible liar.

On Thursday, I work a double shift that bleeds into Friday morning. By the time I drag myself to the parking garage, my body aches and my eyes burn with exhaustion.

Gabriel's car is parked next to mine.

He's leaning against the driver's door, still in scrubs, looking like he's been waiting for hours.

"We need to talk," he says.

"Gabriel, Morrison—"

"Is an ass who doesn't get to decide how I live my life." His voice is rough with fatigue, but his eyes are clear. Certain. "Get in."

"I should go home—"

"Emma." He steps closer, and I can see the sleepless nights written across his face. "Please. Trust me."

Against every rational instinct, I do.

He drives us to the coast, to a stretch of beach where the city lights fade into darkness and the only sound is waves against sand. We walk in silence until he stops at a piece of driftwood worn smooth by salt and time.

"Sit with me," he says.

The ocean breathes beside us, eternal and patient. [waves, distant]

"I became a doctor to save people," Gabriel says finally. "To fix things. But somewhere along the way, I forgot how to save myself."

His voice is barely audible above the waves.

"I stopped sleeping. Stopped eating unless someone reminded me. Stopped feeling anything except the high of surgery and the crash afterward." He looks at his hands. "I was drowning, and I didn't even care."

My chest aches for him. For the loneliness I heard in his voice that first night.

"Then you walked into that break room, bleeding and beautiful and so damn broken I couldn't look away." He turns to me, eyes reflecting starlight. "And for the first time in years, I remembered what it felt like to want to be alive."

"Gabriel..."

"I love you," he says simply. "I love your terrible sleep schedule and your stubborn streak and the way you bite your lip when you're concentrating. I love how you see people—really see them—even when they're hiding."

Tears spill down my cheeks.

"Morrison can threaten me all he wants," Gabriel continues. "He can make my life hell or transfer me to another department or fire me entirely. I don't care anymore."

"You can't throw away your career—"

"For you?" He reaches up to brush my tears away with gentle thumbs. "Emma, you're not just worth fighting for. You're worth everything."

The words unlock something in my chest that's been frozen for months. Years, maybe.

"I love you too," I whisper.

His smile is radiant, transforming his entire face.

"Yeah?"

"Completely. Terrifyingly. Even though you're probably crazy."

"Definitely crazy," he agrees, and then he's kissing me again.

This time, there's no urgency, no fear of discovery. Just Gabriel's lips on mine and the endless ocean beside us and the impossible truth that sometimes the most broken people find exactly what they need in each other.

We stay until sunrise paints the sky rose and gold.

"What happens now?" I ask, nestled against his chest.

"Now I request a transfer to general surgery. Different department, no conflict of interest." His arms tighten around me. "Morrison can't touch us then."

"You'd do that?"

"Emma." He tilts my chin up, the same gentle gesture that started everything. "There's no corner of this world I wouldn't go to keep you."

Later, we walk back to his car hand in hand, salt air tangling in our hair. The hospital waits in the distance, full of fluorescent lights and careful distances and all the reasons this should be impossible.

But Gabriel's fingers are warm in mine, and for the first time in longer than I can remember, I'm not afraid of the light.

"The doctor who saved my heart," I murmur against his shoulder.

He laughs, the sound rich and free. "The woman who saved my soul."

Above us, the sun rises on stolen nights becoming infinite mornings, on secret scars healing into something beautiful.

On two broken people becoming whole.

[heartbeat, synchronized]

Sometimes the best medicine is simply being seen.

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