CHAPTER 74: RED CHEEKS

Angry, Patricia stood outside Dr. Miss’s office, her hands clenching the file tightly. No wonder her schedule had been so light, she should have known only he would pull such strings.

Why was he going out of his way to make life difficult for her?

She wondered if her colleagues had already figured it out, but judging by their behavior today, it didn’t seem so. If they ever found out, they would definitely make things harder for her.

Determined to confront him, she began making her way to his office, breathing heavily as she stomped forward. She hadn’t asked him for any favors and she could have handled it on her own. Was he doing this because he thought she wouldn’t go through with the divorce? She hadn’t even agreed to stay with him yet, so why was he going to such lengths? Could it be because of the intimate night they shared? But...

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sight of Roman’s secretary, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts as she moved closer to the desk.

"Hi! I am Dr. Patricia from the Cardiology department. I would like to see Dr. Romans for..." she began, but the secretary cut her off.

"You are Dr. Patricia? Oh wow, perfect timing! The CEO needs you in his office. I was just about to call you," she said, a sigh of relief escaping her as she quickly typed something on her computer and then looked up.

"Oh, he did?" Patricia replied, surprised. Well, at least he knew what he did wrong.

"Please, you can go in," the secretary said, gesturing toward the path that led to his office.

Bowing her head slightly in thanks, Patricia walked toward the office, her steps slowing as she reached the door.

"Come in," came a voice from behind the door, but it didn’t sound like Roman’s. She frowned. If he wasn’t in the office, then who had asked for her?

After a moment’s hesitation, she opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. She turned around to face the room, only for her eyes to land on Roman, who was seated in a corner that looked like a small sitting area. He had his hand on an unfamiliar woman’s breast, deepening Patricia’s frown. It wasn’t like she cared if he was fornicating, but why summon her just to witness it?

"What are you doing? Come here," a voice said, and it was then she noticed other people in the room. Looking around, she saw another doctor beside Roman, holding a file that appeared to contain patient notes, jotting things down.

Several female doctors were seated, smiles on their faces, as the new lady spoke. Feeling ashamed for jumping to conclusions, Patricia inwardly scolded herself and stepped forward, stopping a few paces from Roman and the woman.

"When did the pain reoccur after the surgery?" Roman asked the woman, his hand now cupping her breast from below, a gesture that jolted Patricia with a flood of unwelcome memories. She told herself to look away, to stay professional, but her eyes refused to obey, especially since it was her husband doing the honors of examining the woman’s breast. Why him? Why did it have to be Roman? There were other doctors, equally capable. And judging by the woman’s responses, she was likely being assessed for breast cancer.

"It hurts more here, there’s a big lump around this area," the patient suddenly whimpered, pain distorting her features. Then, with a boldness that left even the observing doctors visibly unsettled, she grabbed Roman’s hand and placed it on her left breast, moving it around in a way that made the tension in the room almost unbearable. Yet Roman looked completely unfazed, calm, focused, his hands continuing their examination with clinical precision.

Patricia’s chest tightened, her throat dry with a rising heat she didn’t understand. Why was she angry? Why was she hurting? This woman could be fighting for her life, how could jealousy be part of her problem now? But still... This patient was being too dramatic. And wasn’t a physical examination supposed to come after the medical history was taken? Why the unnecessary contact? Patricia wasn’t an expert in oncology, but she knew enough to understand how such procedures could be handled, properly, respectfully, and ideally, not by her husband. Wait, why was she suddenly getting used to calling him her husband?

Suddenly, Roman’s eyes lifted and met hers, her own gaze sharp and narrowed. Startled, she quickly looked away, not wanting him to catch the storm building behind her expression. When she glanced back at him moments later, she caught a flicker of amusement on his face, a small, knowing smile, before he returned his focus to the patient.

"If it affects both breasts, we may have to consider a complete mastectomy in the next surgery," Roman divulged like a professional. "Are you prepared to lose your breasts?" And asked that made Patricia see him more as a doctor and less as a man at that moment.

The woman’s face collapsed into disbelief. "What? I knew those quacks didn’t know what they were doing. I should have come here earlier... I just didn’t want the public to find out," she said, her voice shaking with emotion as tears welled in her eyes.

"It’s not their fault," Roman replied gently. "Breast cancer isn’t easy to treat. Some patients are fortunate, if it’s caught early, we can remove just the affected tissue. But in many cases, it comes back stronger, more invasive."

"I know," the woman whispered. "I just... hoped." And then she broke down, the weight of it all too much to contain.

"We are sorry," another voice said, soft and empathetic. One of the female doctors, whom Patricia guessed was also an oncologist, moved to sit beside the patient, placing a comforting hand on her back. "But there’s still hope. Once we confirm the diagnosis, we will know more. Let’s proceed with the physical exams, that will give us clarity."

"I will go through with it," the woman said through tears, "but please, I want to keep this from my family. If they find out, the public will too, and my acting career will be over."

Her plea caused a quiet ripple through the room as the doctors exchanged uneasy glances. Patricia knew why. The hospital had strict policies. Unless it was confirmed the patient had no immediate family, they couldn’t proceed without consent. If anything went wrong, and it often did, nearly fifty percent of the time, they needed someone to take responsibility. Treating her in secret wasn’t just unethical, it was dangerous.

"Is there no close relative you can trust to keep it private? On our end, we will ensure no one knows about your presence in the hospital. You will have your own nurse and a personal security guard to get you anything you need," the female doctor urged gently, trying to persuade her.

For a moment, the woman looked torn, visibly weighing her options. After a few seconds, she lifted her head.

"I have a best friend, but she’s not in the country at the moment. It would take about four days for her to come. She’s always so busy," she admitted, her voice low and uncertain.

The female doctor parted her lips to respond, but Roman cut in first.

"That won’t be a problem. Apart from a few examinations and routine inquiries, we won’t begin any major treatments yet," he said, reassuring her. Then he stood and turned to one of the male doctors. "Get her ready for the examination. Also, change her file and use a different name," he ordered before walking toward Patricia.

As he reached her, he walked past without a word, and she let out a slow breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

"Let me help you to your ward," the female doctor offered the patient, and they all began filing out of the office. Patricia, being the last to leave, placed her hand on the doorknob but froze at the sound of his voice.

"Stay back. I need to speak with you, Dr. Patricia."

She felt a shift in the air. The person behind her cast a curious glance in her direction before taking hold of the doorknob and gently closing the door behind them.

Exhaling deeply, Patricia turned and walked slowly toward him, stopping a few steps away. He sat casually at the edge of his desk, arms tucked into his pockets, glasses perfectly angled on his face, the familiar strand of red hair brushing lightly against them.

"What did you call me for, Dr. Roman?" She asked quietly, her head lowered, unsure if it was frustration or anticipation tightening her chest.

"To finish what we started yesterday," he said, and her head snapped up, goosebumps instantly crawling across her skin.

"What? We are at work!" She hissed, glancing back toward the door in alarm.

Without a word, Roman leaned away from the table and suddenly grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward him as he resumed his seat at the edge, holding her tightly in his arms.

"No! We can’t do this here!" She gasped, flustered and frightened. She knew better than to take his threats lightly, he was the kind of man who always followed through.

"Are you angry at me for touching her?" He asked, catching her off guard. She froze, her breath catching.

Their eyes met. For the first time since she entered the room, she saw something unfamiliar in his expression, something like remorse. Maybe even sincerity.

"No," she replied, forcing calm into her voice. "You are a doctor. She’s just a patient. Why would I be angry? You are doing your job. And I am just your wife on paper. We are not in love or anything."

She turned her gaze away quickly, trying to collect herself. But the smirk that curved on his lips made her glance back at him in irritation.

"What’s funny?" She asked, eyebrows raised.

"Then why are your cheeks red?" He teased, a spark in his eyes.

Startled, she instinctively lifted her free hand to her face, touching the warmth blooming there, only to blush harder, completely exposed.