“You have a lot of nerve don’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lucas said with the annoying smirk I had grown used to.

“You stole my fucking patient!” I yelled, oblivious to the crowd gathering around us.

“Well technically, he was a patient of this hospital,” he replied calmly.

“I needed that patient for my record and you know that,” I said.

“You’re just a whorish thief,” I finished.

“And you’re a manipulative little prude,” he said, finally getting up.

“Or you think I’ve forgotten that you put a dildo in my office on the day I was to be personally interviewed to be chief of cardiothoracics?” he asked angrily.

“The worst part was I didn’t notice it was there until the board members were gone and I had to chase them around the hospital one by one to tell them I’m not a pervert,” he yelled angrily.

“Only because you put red coloring on my ward-coat and I walked around the hospital all day looking like I had menstrual blood all over me. Do you know how stupid that made me look? Interfering with my being chief is where I draw the line and I’ll get you back,” I said.

“Bring it.”

“You know what, fuck you,” I said while flipping him off.

“I know you’d love to,” he said with a wink.

I walked away without another word, so my murdering him will not be witnessed by a crowd.
Who the fuck winks anyway?

It had always been this way between Lucas and I. We went to the same high school, and the same college. We both excelled in our respective classes and generally stayed out of each other’s way until he publicly dissed my grades in our second year of college. I swore, in front of everyone there, that I will beat him in the next test. Long story short, he beat me in that test as well. Soundly. As a matter of fact, he got a perfect score and smirked at the look on my face when I saw the board. Well, in all fairness, I was being stupid for challenging someone with hyperthymesia to an academic test.

From that day, the battle lines were drawn. While I couldn’t beat him in memory tests, I endeavored to beat him in all practicals, and made up my mind to be a surgeon. After medical school, by sheer luck or coincidence, we ended up being accepted into the same residency program at the best hospital in the state.

I eventually made my interest in cardiothoracics known over drinks and the next day, he expressed interest in it as well. The competition only intensified after that, with each of us striving to be the best, and occasionally manipulating the other in the process.
Which brings us to now, the third year of us both being Attending cardio-thoracic surgeons.

We had reached a kind of truce, until the chief of surgery announced a few weeks ago that there would be a new chief of cardiothoracics, and I and Lucas were the shortlisted two in line for the job. It seemed like we were destined to be enemies.

A few days after our public showdown, I threatened to strangle him with my stethoscope in the middle of another of our heated arguments, which led to the both of us being summoned to the chief of surgery’s office.

He ordered us to perform a coronary artery bypass shaft together, which was ridiculous, because I could perform the surgery back to front without any help. He insisted rather that we were to do it together, selecting different people from our individual teams, and if there was so much as a complication, one of us would get fired to keep the peace.

The surgery lasted 7 hours, in which, for the first time in our lives, we were forced to be united.

We were both so exhausted, that we slept off immediately in the on-call room. I woke up feeling more refreshed than I had in years, only to discover that while I was sleeping, he took my pager and answered my pages ‘because I looked peaceful’.

The next day, I stopped him from taking his coffee because I had bribed someone previously to put salt instead of sugar in it.

That was the turning point in our relationship. It felt different… not arguing with him anymore. I looked forward to our conversations every day.

Eventually, I proposed we be friends, but he looked at me and told me he could never be my friend.
I was hurt, but our ‘situationship’ continued. We got each other coffee from the cafeteria whenever we could, we talked about our patients and the different procedures we had performed, and occasionally, he drove me home. We were not friends; we were something else. Something I could not define.

The day of the presentation for chief of cardiothoracic surgery came, and we found ourselves facing each other outside the board room.

“Are you ready to lose?” I asked. I couldn’t help it, the competitiveness never left.

“I can’t wait for you to be under me… in more ways than one,” he retorted stepping closer and looking me straight in the eyes.

“Shut up,” I said a bit flustered, pushing him away, and entering the board room.
Shut up? That’s the best you could come up with? I chided myself, slapping my cheeks to get myself back in focus.

The presentation was…dramatic.

“My name is Dr. Sarah Miles and I will tell you why I should be the new chief of cardiothoracic surgery in just… three minutes,” I emphasized, as I looked at my watch.

I saw Luke roll his eyes, and I bit down a smile.

“I have spent 10 years in this hospital, and in that time, the cardio department has been the number one department. I have performed the most successful surgeries by far, and every single doctor in this hospital respects me. The first thing you look for in a successful chief is someone who can be respected, someone who others look up to, who can lobby doctors in times of need,” I emphasized, as I saw the chief of surgery, Dr. Boyega, nod his head slightly in approval.

“I am the most sought after cardiothoracic surgeon not just in this hospital, but in the state. People come in, from everywhere to get a consult with me; who better to be the face of cardiothoracic surgery than me, someone who will not only bring more patients into this hospital, but increase the prestige, and take this department where no one else ever has.” Smiles all round. Good.

“I will conclude by saying the hospital, this department, deserves this,” I concluded as I looked each board member in the eye.

“Thank you.”

I confidently made my way back to my seat, putting my hands in my ward-coat.
Luke stood up, and walked to the front of the room.

“Hello,” he started with a smile. That damn charisma.

“I’m Dr. Lucas Moore, nice to meet you.”

“Being chief…,” He hesitated.

“Being chief is…um,” he continued, clearly distracted.

“Is there a problem?” Dr. Boyega asked.

“It seems like I’ve forgotten all that I was about to say,” he said, stunned.

“Are you kidding me?” I burst out.

“We have fought over this for weeks, and now you say you’ve forgot? Is this some kind of sick joke?” I asked calmly.

“Chief, the board, I would like to request a postponement, till tomorrow, for Dr. Moore here to get his act together. I would not be comfortable if this presentation wasn’t fair,” I said to them, mainly because I wanted to win fair and square.

“Alright we’ll reconvene tomorrow,” the chef informed as everyone got up to leave.

The next day, I prepared myself to expect the unexpected. I intended to do his presentation myself if I had to. The thing about winning is the competition makes it sweeter, especially when it has lasted years, like some sort of fucked up foreplay. Winning this with him at the top of his game would be simply orgasmic.

“Dr. Lucas Moore again. You know there is a saying that the management makes the team. I have hyperthymesia, which means I have never forgotten anything in my entire life. What does being a chief entail? It means organizing seminars, arranging surgery schedules, managing teams and doctors. It requires skill, and dedication. Dr. Miles is good, I admit, but I am better.

“Dr. Miles is a born surgeon, while I am a manager. I will be able to prioritize management over every other thing. With my condition, I will never forget a schedule, never forget who gets paid, I will stand up for the department at any given opportunity, and much more. What happened yesterday was a… fluke. I was distracted. It has never happened before, and it will never happen again. This is why you will need someone committed for the job, and not a quitter.”

Okay that was good.

The annual Christmas party held at Dr. Singh’s basement was usually a glamorous affair, at least it was one of the few times in a year the doctors in out hospital dressed up. That year was no different, as we partied and temporarily forgot our own problems. I was standing beside the Christmas tree when Luke approached.

“You know, I’m so used to seeing you in scrubs that in normal clothes, with your hair styled like that, one can say you almost look… good,” he bit out.

“Don’t you have some nurses you haven’t slept with yet?” I retorted.

“I got bored,” he stated.

He became serious all of a sudden, and gave me an intense look.

“What?” I asked.

“Why haven’t we ever dated? It’s no secret I’ve always been attracted to you, and I believe the feeling is mutual.”

“You’re drunk,” I said breathlessly.

“On the contrary, I’ve never been as sober in my entire life,” he said as he stroked my hair. He clutched my face and kissed me.

Till date, that was the most intense kiss of my life. It had been building up for so long, that when it finally exploded, we wouldn’t, couldn’t stop. We became a couple that day.

We went to dinners, the movies, beaches, camping, and even took dance lessons when we had the time. I could not believe we wasted so much time hating each other. We wasted so many years, when we could have been in complete, absolute, bliss. We were so stupid.

As a perk of working in the same hospital, we got to spend so much time together. We loved each other completely.

Luke called me into his office one cold morning, weeks later.

“I got the chief job,” he informed me solemnly.

“I would turn it down in a heartbeat if it means we’ll have trouble,” he continued quickly.

“That’s great, you deserve it,” I responded with a smile.

He looked at me suspiciously. “They offered it to you first,” he stated with realization.

They had.

“Hear me out,” I said.

“I don’t want it anymore. At your presentation, you made me realize something. I am a born surgeon. Taking this job will be a step up in my career, but I want… no, I need more than that. I want to be a great surgeon. I want to be known all over the world as the fucking best. I wanna win awards for my research, and take cardiothoracics to a whole different level. I will not be able to do that by managing people.

“You were right that day, surgery will always come first to me,” I concluded.

“Marry me,” he stated suddenly.

We were married the next month, right in the hospital. It was talked about by everyone, even some long term patients. Apparently, everyone could see we were meant to be together except us. We had an extended honeymoon, which was good, as we hadn’t taken a vacation in more than seven years. I felt better than I ever had in my entire life.

“So we did the maze procedure for the patient with the atrial fibrillation and he was fine. Turned out he needed it all along,” I told Luke in the on-call room one day, months after our honeymoon.

“That’s amazing,” he responded.

“So I better get back, I have a surgery due by four,” I said as I got up.

“Wait, what happened to the patient with atrial fibrillation?” He asked curiously.

“I just told you,” I replied in confusion.

It started with the occasional forgetfulness, then a mix-up of surgery schedules, double booking of the OR’s, and eventually, he started getting lost in the hallways.

I insisted he get tested, so he told me the truth. He had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. He got tested the day of the botched presentation, but he never told anyone. Apparently, his aunt had the disease, but his was much slower in progression because of the hyperthymesia.

Months passed, and his condition got worse. Eventually, other doctors in the hospital began to notice something was wrong.

He later quit his chief job, and resigned from the hospital, because he knew being there would put countless lives in danger.

He eventually stopped going out, except to a different hospital for management, but he lost hope. The drinking started, and with it, the aggression. He got upset over everything, yelled at any minor misunderstanding, and threw things around. He started forgetting places, and people, including his own family.
I never admitted it, but my greatest fear was that he would forget me, and all that we shared.

One day, I came home to find him crying on the floor. He had peed himself. I comforted him, took him to the bathroom, and cleaned him up.

“The doctors are asking where you’ve been. They said you vanished without a trace,” I said with a smile, to ease the tension.

“Tell them I died,” he replied.

The man I loved was broken.

Things at home were a nightmare, and I threw myself into work as a result. I tripled the surgeries I did a day, and halved the times. I put everything into my work, as my career advanced. I was known as a goddess with a scalpel.

Once, when lucid, he saw me on the television being celebrated as the fastest cardiothoracic surgeon in the country, with the fewest death rates.

“You’ve left me behind,” was all he said.

His health, and memory seemed to deteriorate. It was really bad because he was so young. I hired a nurse, permanently, to look after him as I travelled round the world, making a name for myself. I told him of my official trips to Morocco, Australia, and Nigeria, as well as the research I had done. I won the ASA Award, but it all felt incomplete. He should have been with me.

“I don’t ever want to forget you,” he told me in bed one day, eight years after he had resigned from practice.

“I may forget everything, everyone, even the bathroom, but the day I die inside is the day I look at you and can’t remember,” he said sadly.

I couldn’t hold it anymore, and burst into tears.

I spent more time at home, taking care of him. Sometimes he was lucid; sometimes he was not, but I loved him deeply. Amidst all these, he was still the most handsome and brilliant man I had ever laid eyes on.

I became the chief of surgery the day I found out I was going to be a mother.
When I told him the news, he asked what I was going to do.

“If I can’t handle everything at once, I’ll quit the chief job. We have more money than we’ll ever need, and surgeries don’t mean anything to me without you. I love you with everything that I am. I will always choose you.”

“I thought surgery was important to you?” he asked curiously.

“You became the most important to me a long time ago,” I replied.

I eventually took a leave from work, and an interim chief was appointed in my absence. That was the best and worst time of my life.

We were happy. We talked when he could remember, we laughed, we lived.

A few months later, he was unable to move, and everything had to be done for him.

On the day he died, he was in my arms, and the look in his eyes showed me that he remembered me. He remembered me in the end, when it mattered the most.

Our son was born a few weeks after that, and I named him Lucas, after his father.

“Lucas Ethan Moore,” I said, holding him for the first time.

“Your father was a good man, but he fell before he could reach his full potential. I would not let you be like your father. You are going to be the best cardiothoracic surgeon this world has ever seen. You would be nothing short of perfect, and you will carry on your father’s legacy in the medical field. This I swear on him.” The baby only smiled.

I resumed being chief, and built a clinic in my dead husband’s name.

On the day of the opening, I walked up to the podium to give a speech.

“You know, the first time we had surgery together, Dr. Moore almost stabbed me in the hand…,” I reminisced.

So guys, this is a short story I just wrote, and I hope you enjoyed it.

Tell me what you think in the comments.