"Real bonds never break— they may bend a little— but they never break."

'~~~~|~~~~'

40 votes?

"Mrs. Sievers, this is our Chief of Surgery, Dr.  Enrique Romano," Dr. Saiji steps aside and allows Dr. Romano to come forward.

Straightening my posture and eyes wide and the size of saucers,  I watch as Enrique, the boy with who I spent two years of my life with, stands in front of me with sharp features and tall stature.

I watched as his hands moved to get the clipboard from between Dr. Saiji's hands. The man was eager to hand it over, "Ah yes," He spoke for the first time.

My hands began to sweat, my mouth began to blubber like a fish, and my heart rate picked up undeniably quickly.

His voice causes me to straighten my posture and grip my bag tightly between my fingers. Soft as silk, and smooth as dark chocolate, his voice surrounds me like a warm blanket in the freezing winter.

I look away from him, my eyes beginning to turn hazy. This wasn't happening. No— this couldn't be happening. It simply wasn't real.

He leans forward and holds out a large hand; a hand that have engulfed me in warmness, that wiped away my tears, and a hand that caressed my cheek lovingly as his lips met mine.

I hold out a sweaty hand and take his own against my palm. My body lit on fire as I felt his soft palm against mine. I wanted to know what other things that I was unaware of, that he could do with his hands.

He refused to falter or even crack as he firmly shook my hand, indicating his lack of animosity.

He takes a step back again.

He doesn't look away from the clipboard in his hand as he flipped through the pages, "Mrs. Sievers, what seems to be the problem?"

"Demiah—" I hastily say. "Please, call me, Demiah."

He looks up again and stares right into my eyes, just as a polite, charming smile appears on his lips, one I'm sure he greets all of his patients with.

There was nothing even remotely suggestive or flirtatious about it— no sign of recognition floating in his eyes.

Had I changed that much? Had I let myself go so much that the man who knew me better than anyone else, both inside and out, didn't recognize me at all?

I felt myself shrink away.

"W-Well, I—" I grit my teeth as I inhale a short, unnoticeable breath. I needed to pull myself together.

As if we'd never met, I pull a smile on my face and speak gingerly, "I've just been feeling a bit discomfort in my breasts, and I think I felt some lumps of some sort," I train my eyes on either my dress in my chest area, or on Dr. Saiji, but certainly never on Enrique.

Seeing me looking at him, Dr. Saiji clears his throat, "I should go and check on the patient in Room 112."

Enrique— or actually— Doctor Romano— interrupts him after looking up from writing, "I already asked Doctor Goodman to check Mrs. Sarmani's vitals already." He clicks the end of the pen against the clipboard as he continues, his focus on me, "Would you mind if Dr. Saiji stays, Mrs. Sievers. He's a second-year resident and the observation would be good for him."

I, once again, avoid eye contact as I shake my head, "No, I don't mind at all."

Dr. Saiji blubbers, "Really, Doctor? I never thought I'd be observing under you so soon—"

"Dr. Saiji."

The young doctor stops speaking, "Yes, yes of course, sorry."

I smile in amusement.

He doesn't say another word as he stands at the corner of the room, ready to take notes.

Enrique continues. My body becomes rigid when he steps closer to me, his focus on my dress, "I see, could you remove just the top of your dress, please?" He asks as he walks away from me and moves to slip some gloves onto his hands.

I swallow as I slowly begin to peel the straps of my dress from my shoulders, revealing my breasts.

I look down at them in distaste, but quickly look up as I see Enrique heading back, his eyes stilled trained on adjusting the latex gloves on his hands.

"Could you lie down for me, please?" He asks nonchalantly, his voice smooth and gentle.

I release shaky breaths as I lie against the cold surface on the soft, brown cushioned area.

He comes to stand in front of me, eyes staring directly into me, and for a second— just for a quick second— his gaze falters.

He speaks, "This shouldn't hurt, although it should be a bit uncomfortable," He explains.

I nod my head as I look at the ceiling above me, staring at the light. I could still remember what it felt like when his hands used to caress my body every night as I slept or even as he nursed me back to health, his gentle fingers pulling my hair away from my face as I threw up, or wiping the remains of warm milk from my lips.

My breathing increased, just as he touched me.

His fingers professionally probe and press at my breasts, his head tilting to the side in concentration. Going to the area near beneath my underarm, his fingers apply slight pressure.

"Does this hurt?" He asks softly.

I sigh, "No, not really." I reply just as softly as I swallow.

He moves up and slightly presses against my collarbone just for a moment and looks at my face for any signs of discomfort. When he receives none, he looks away and removes his hands, releasing a slight hum.

I sit up and replace the straps of my dress onto my shoulders, my eyes finding Dr. Saiji in the corner of the room taking notes intently.

"Is everything alright?" I ask worriedly.

Enrique removes his gloves, "It appears that way. It may just be a breast cyst that can disappear without treatment. Have you been seeing any discharge?"

I nod my head hastily, my eyebrows furrowing, "Yeah, it's been clear. Is that serious?"

"In your case, it doesn't seem to be. Any pain in the collarbones? Pain in the nipple?" He asks distractedly as he scribbles onto a paper connected to his clipboard.

I shake my head hastily.

He puts his gloves in the bin, "I see."

He looks to Dr. Saiji, "That'll be all, now is just a routine check-up. You can leave," He instructs.

"Yes, Dr. Romano," He leaves the room with a giddy-like smile on his face, happy to have worked this close to Dr. Romano, I presume.

I try to remain calm as I watch Enrique's back faced toward me. Beneath the loose lab coat that he wears, his muscles still tense against the cloth.

My mouth almost waters as I move a hand to my mouth to adjust myself. I needed to keep it together. I needed to.

He turns around slowly, "Could you take off your shoes and stand over here, please?" I look to where his eyes were directed to and my hands begin my sweat, my throat turning dry.

A scale.

I juck out my chin, "How—" I clear my throat. "How is this necessary for my exam?"

Speaking professionally, "On your medical report, a few things aren't up to date; strictly procedure, Mrs. Sievers."

I grab onto my heels as I mumble, "Demiah."

There were two scales in the room from what I could tell. He had originally pointed me towards one that looked high-tech and efficient, but for a reason unbeknownst to me, after I had moved to stand up, he then directed me toward the one beside it.

As I stood on the skill, my eyes straight ahead and closed, I could feel his breath on my forehead as my shoulders rose and fell in a breath.

He was still taller than me, just as I'd remembered, and even with me standing on the scale, he still towered over my form.

I could hear sliding against metal, filled by a series of pauses. I could smell him; the scent that engulfed me tremendously months on end. It wasn't cologne, or even his soap or shampoo, it was him— just him.

My eyes finally opened, I watched from my peripheral as he faced the scale, the veins in his hands prominently showing as he slid a small, plastic weight of some sort across the scale, my eyes watching anxiously as the device tilted right before me.

I looked away as it evenly balanced out. I didn't care for the outcome. I just wanted to get the hell off of this scale; it was giving me a migraine. I knew he'd tell me anyway and I was dreading it.

His smooth, deep voice told me that I could move off the scale, and before he could even finish his statement, I already was off the device, my feet slipping back into the comfort of my heels.

I found a string of temptation pushing against the back of my brain to take a look, just a peek. Had I made it past 250 pounds? That was highly unlikely, but yet my head still pounded at the thought.

I was sure I wouldn't know how the read the thing. I would be able to figure it out if I stared long enough, especially since I flunked physics in high school. I was better with numbers and balance sheets, rather than equations and letters.

As I sat back down on the cushion, he came to stand directly in front of me, writing his little notes on his clipboard and placing it on the table next to us.

Just as I thought that we were through, Enrique grabs the stethoscope from around his thick neck, and made a detour behind me.

"Okay, I'm just gonna—" He didn't need to say anymore as he places the stethoscope on my upper back, his hand gently resting on my shoulder and softly pulling to arch my back. "Can you breathe in for me, please? A deep breath."

I just swallow for a quick second, his touch distracting me.

I take a deep breath in.

"Out. In, out," He repeats in a whisper as if he was sharing a deep, dark secret with me. His breath fans against my ear as he moves the metal against my clothed-back slightly to the left, and then to the right again.

He continues to repeat his chants to me until he was sure that I had caught on to the rhythm that he wanted.

He was done in a quick second, moving around to stand directly in front of me.

"I'll just be doing the same thing to your chest area, listening just to make sure that air is moving in and out of your lungs smoothly," He explains.

I barely heard a word he says as my eyes stare at his lips as they move. The same lips that kissed my warm forehead for nights.

"Could you hold back for me, please?" I snap out of my thoughts. "Just straighten your shoulders a bit," Upon following his orders, he places it against my chest.

He repeats his same orders to me, reminding me to inhale and exhale slowly, his right hand resting on my back as he pressed the device against my chest, his eyes staring at the ceiling in concentration as he listens.

I try to stop a smile from forming on my lips, my thoughts suddenly wander to all of the disputes we had about who was better, right-handers or lefties— saying as how he was a lefty and I the opposite.

I close my eyes, not being able to look at Enrique this close to my body.

I inhale and exhale slowly and softly, for some strange reason feeling my body begin to relax.

"So, how've you been?" My eyes snap open at the question, my hands turning clammy and my heart rate increasing.

He was listening to my lungs, right? Please don't be listening to my heart. I'm sure he'd hear how it doubled in speed upon his question.

I thought I had imagined it, but upon looking up to find his eyes staring directly into mine, I knew I hadn't.

He had recognized me? I assume he hadn't. I had changed a lot, not enough to be mistaken for an entirely different being, but I wasn't the slim, athletic high school girl that I used to be.

That, and the fact that he showed no sign of knowing that I was me— not a flinch, not even a look of shock— how could I have known?

He removed the stethoscope just as I speak, "I'm doing okay," I hold my chin up, hoping to appear confident, "I'd ask you the same thing but I can see for myself." A small smile forms on my lips.

The corner of his upper lip turns up, his teeth showing as he wraps the stethoscope back around his neck, and writes on that annoying clipboard.

"I guess you can say that I'm doing okay, too," He turns around, and his back is what I'm met with— his broad, muscular back. "So," He turns back around, his face turning back professional, "Everything seems fine, although however, you'll have to come back for your mammogram in about a week. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, yes, of course," I pause. "Is that all?" I ask.

He nods his head, but upon seeing the worry etched onto my face, he takes a step closer, "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about, Miah."

Once again, my heart skips a beat. Contrary to popular belief, Enrique was the only one who called me by that nickname, he was the only one that I allowed to call me by that nickname.

Everyone else referred to me as either 'D' or 'My'. The only persons I supposed that called my entire first name was my parents.

He places a comforting hand on my shoulder, producing a tight-lipped smile. Flustered at the contact, I quickly grab my bag and stand, avoiding eye-contact.

"Thank you, Dr. Romano," With that, I make a move to leave.

"Wait," He blurts. He quickly licks his lips, making me look away. I see him from my peripheral motion for me to sit once again on the brown, sleek cushion.

He carelessly, yet smoothly, slides a share from under the desk at the side, and places it in front of me, where he sits, the back of the chair facing me and his strong thighs straddling the seat.

He rests his hands on the chair, rubbing the slight stubble on his chin, "How about coffee? We can catch up, my break is soon."

My eyes roam up his thighs, and I refrain from the urge to lick my lips knowing that his eyes were trained on me.

I shake my head, clutching my bag closer to me as if I was waiting on someone to steal it.

"I—" I pause. "I can't."

He doesn't falter, "Are you sure? It won't take long."

I found myself thinking for a moment, my tongue itching to say what I really wanted to, "Really, I'm sorry, I have to get home to—" I falter. "...to um—"

"To your husband, I understand," He gets up and turns around, pushing the chair back to its rightful place as I look down shamefully. He pulls out a small card from his coat pocket, "Call me if you have any questions about the test."

I nod my head and send him a tight-lipped smile, watching as he sent me his own before leaving the room.

I release a breath.

'~~~~|~~~~'

Sorry, I had an exam to study for.

Word Count: 2652

~TheOfficialSinner