Page 29 of Christmas On Call
Asha stared at the screen until the words blurred. She felt her heart beating in her ears. She couldn’t believe how she let her feelings betray her icy demeanor, and worst of all let it slip.
This was it. The conversation she’d been dreading since the moment she kissed Max on Christmas morning. The exposure she’d spent weeks trying to prevent.
She considered not going. Considered claiming a patient emergency, a sudden illness, anything to delay the inevitable. But Asha Patel didn’t run from things. Or at least, she’d spent her entire life trying to convince herself she didn’t.
The hours until two o’clock stretched like taffy. She tried to work, tried to focus, but her hands shook when she held her pen and her mind kept replaying the moment over and over: the text, the heart, Harrison’s knowing look.
At 1:58 PM, she stood outside his office, trying to steady her breathing. Her reflection in the window beside his door looked pale, haunted. She barely recognized herself.
She knocked.
“Come in.”
Harrison’s office was small but organized: diplomas arranged in perfect rows on one wall, family photos on the desk—a wife, two teenage daughters, a golden retriever. His coffee mug with the script,World’s Okayest Dad. He looked up from his computer and gestured to the chair across from him.
“Doctor Patel. Thanks for coming. Close the door, please.”
Asha did, then sat, spine straight, hands folded in her lap. Every inch the professional doctor. If she could just maintain the performance, maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as she feared. Asha knew how to excel in her work and career; she did not know how to handle her personal emotions or intimacy.
Harrison leaned back in his chair, studying her with an expression that was serious but not unkind. “I wanted to have a conversation with you. Confidentially.”
“Of course.” Her voice came out steady. Years of training, of maintaining composure during codes and crises and moments when everything was falling apart.
“This morning, during the meeting, I inadvertently saw a text message on your phone.” He paused, choosing his words with visible care. “From Nurse Benson.”
Asha’s chest constricted, but she kept her face neutral. “Yes?”
“The content of that message suggested a relationship that goes beyond professional collegiality, and I have to say there have been a few rumors flying around the place too.” He held up a hand before she could speak. “I’m not here to judge, Doctor Patel. What you do in your personal life is your business. But hospital policy requires disclosure of workplace relationships, particularly between staff members who work in close proximity. I’m sure you’re aware of this.”
The words landed like blows, each one precise and devastating. Asha’s throat felt too tight. “I’m aware of the policy.”
“Then you’re also aware that failure to disclose creates potential conflicts of interest. Questions about preferential treatment, professional judgment, appropriate boundaries with patients and families.” His tone remained even, factual. “The hospital takes these matters seriously. It’s not about morality or personal choices—it’s about maintaining trust and transparency in patient care.”
Asha’s fingernails dug into her palms. “We haven’t—there’s no supervisory relationship. I’m not Nurse Benson’s direct supervisor. We work collaboratively, but there’s no power differential that would?—”
“I understand,” Harrison interrupted gently. “And I’m not suggesting you’ve done anything unethical in your patient care. Your work is exemplary, as always. But the policy exists regardless of supervisory relationships. Perception matters. The appearance of impartiality matters. And right now, this relationship hasn’t been disclosed to HR.”
The wordrelationshiphung in the air like an indictment.
Asha felt the walls closing in, felt all the air being sucked from the small office. “What are you asking me to do?”
“I’m giving you one week to file a relationship disclosure form with HR.” His tone was firm but not harsh. “It’s straightforward—both parties sign, acknowledging the relationship and committing to maintain professional boundaries at work. HR files it, and as long as there’s no evidence of compromised patient care or workplace misconduct, there’s no issue. It just needs to be on record.”
One week. Seven days to destroy everything she’d built.
“And if we disclose it?” Asha’s voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else. “What happens then?”
“Then nothing,” Harrison said simply. “You continue working. The relationship is documented. As long as you maintain appropriate professional boundaries—which I have no doubt you will—it’s not a problem. We may have to make some rota changes but Asha, these disclosures happen more often than you’d think.”
He made it sound so simple. So reasonable. File a form, sign a paper, move forward.
But Asha knew better. She knew how hospitals worked, how people talked, how reputations were built brick by carefulbrick and demolished in an instant. She’d be “the doctor who’s sleeping with the nurse.” Every decision she made would be questioned. Every interaction scrutinized. The ice queen who melted for a woman in lime-green sneakers. Pathetic.
“One week,” Harrison repeated. “That’s all I’m asking. File the disclosure, follow protocol, and we move forward professionally.”
Asha nodded, the movement mechanical. “Understood.”
“Doctor Patel—” Harrison’s voice softened slightly. “For what it’s worth, Nurse Benson is excellent at her job. One of the best we have. And so are you. I have absolutely no concerns about your professionalism or patient care. This is purely procedural.”
