Chapter 1 — Morning Buzz and Encouragement
Noah
The morning buzz in St. Evergreen’s staff lounge was infectious, a lively hum fueled by the scent of coffee and the anticipation of upcoming holiday festivities. The distant hum of medical equipment occasionally filtered through the door, grounding the cheer in the hospital’s ceaseless rhythm. The lounge itself sparkled with touches of holiday décor—twinkling fairy lights strung along the windows, a small wreath on one wall, and a tabletop tree adorned with handmade ornaments contributed by the staff.
Noah Callahan leaned against the counter near the coffee pot, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His badge, complete with the googly-eyed cartoon heart pin, wiggled slightly as he shifted his weight. The pin, as always, was an endless source of amusement, drawing a chuckle from one of the junior nurses passing by.
“All right, listen up, everyone!” Noah called out, his warm voice cutting through the chatter like a beam of sunlight. “The annual New Year’s party is happening tomorrow night! Snow or no snow, we’re going all in this year—sparkly decorations, questionable karaoke performances, and, if I have my way, Sienna showcasing her famous rendition of ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You.’”
A ripple of laughter spread through the room, and Noah grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Sienna, lounging at a nearby table with her coffee cup in one hand and a clipboard in the other, raised an eyebrow at him, her signature mix of amusement and exasperation on full display.
“Excuse me,” she countered, her voice laced with mock offense. “My Mariah Carey impression is a cherished tradition—legendary, even. A gift to this hospital.”
Noah raised his hands in mock surrender, the corners of his mouth quirking upward. “Fair enough. I’ll save my criticisms until after the encore.”
The laughter lingered, a cheerful hum of camaraderie warming the space. Noah’s gaze swept the room, savoring the moment. He thrived in these small acts of connection, the way humor and warmth could dissolve even the most stubborn tension. Most of the staff seemed engaged, nodding along or murmuring excitement about the party. But his attention snagged on a familiar figure standing near the back.
Dr. Leona Hartley.
She stood apart from the group, arms crossed, her sharp hazel eyes fixed on the clipboard in her hands. Her dark brown hair was pulled tightly into its usual bun, and her tailored scrubs, muted and precise, somehow mirrored the polished control she exuded. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a medical journal: brilliant, composed, untouchable. And untouchable was exactly how she felt to Noah at times, no matter how much he admired her.
“Dr. Hartley,” he said teasingly, his tone light but deliberate, enough to draw her attention. “Any chance we’ll see you at the party? Or will you be busy performing surgery on New Year’s resolutions?”
Chuckles rippled through the room again, but Leona barely glanced up. Her measured tone was professional and even, though Noah caught the faintest twitch at the corners of her mouth—a flicker of something softer, briefer than the blink of an eye.
“I don’t think that’s on my schedule, Callahan. Parties don’t take precedence over surgical recovery times.”
The energy in the room dipped slightly, a beat of awkward silence stretching like a thread on the verge of snapping. Noah’s grin faltered, a faint pang of regret squeezing his chest. Why did trying to draw her out always feel like walking a tightrope?
Sienna, ever the mood-lifter, clinked her coffee cup loudly onto the table and rolled her eyes in exaggerated exasperation. “Oh, come on, Leona,” she chimed in, her voice equal parts playful and cajoling. “Even you can spare a few hours to have fun. Haven’t you heard? It’s called work-life balance. You’re allowed to have some.”
Leona’s lips curved at the edges—barely—but instead of responding, she tucked her clipboard under her arm. A junior nurse interrupted to ask Noah about the setup schedule, and the conversation shifted around them.
As the gathering began to disperse, Noah caught Sienna’s gaze. She tilted her head toward Leona, who was now heading briskly toward the door, her movements as precise as her work. Noah shrugged in reply, a silent acknowledgment that his attempt hadn’t landed the way he’d hoped.
“Don’t give up on her,” Sienna murmured as she passed by him, her words low enough that only he could hear. “She’s more human than she’ll admit. I’ve got this.”
Noah chuckled softly, the sound trailing off as he watched her follow Leona out of the lounge. His gaze lingered on the empty space where Leona had stood, a quiet wish threading through his thoughts. He wished—just once—that she’d let herself be seen. Not just as the brilliant surgeon everyone respected, but as the person he was sure existed underneath.
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Leona’s office was as precise and orderly as the woman herself. A column of neatly stacked patient files lined one corner of her desk, color-coded tabs peeking out like silent sentinels. A framed photo of her parents during a long-ago family holiday stood on a nearby shelf, the warm smiles in the picture contrasting with the sterile scent of disinfectant that lingered in the room. Even here, her sanctuary was tethered to the hospital’s relentless pace.
Leona’s pen moved swiftly across a patient report, the rhythmic scratching filling the quiet space. She was nearly finished when the door swung open without so much as a knock, and Sienna Morales sauntered in, her energy instantly disrupting the room’s stillness.
“Sienna,” Leona said without looking up, her tone clipped. “I’m busy.”
“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Sienna replied, unapologetically plopping herself into the chair opposite Leona’s desk. Her clipboard thudded onto the desk, joined by a brightly colored leather-bound journal with edges softened from years of use.
Leona finally glanced up, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly at the journal. “What’s that?”
“This,” Sienna said, holding it aloft like a trophy, “is my Encouragement Journal. And today, it’s going to convince you to attend the party tomorrow night.”
Leona’s brow arched, skepticism plain on her face. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
Sienna flipped through the journal with practiced ease, finally sliding it across the desk. Her manicured nail tapped on the page she’d chosen.
Leona hesitated before picking it up. The handwriting was familiar—flourishing loops and bold strokes—and the words tugged at something she couldn’t quite name.
*Leona,* it read. *I know you think parties are a waste of time, but hear me out—this one isn’t about the party. It’s about you. You work harder than anyone I know, and you deserve a few hours to just breathe. To let other people see the person behind the scalpel. You might surprise yourself. Sienna.*
Leona set the paper down slowly, her fingers grazing its edges. Her gaze flicked to the journal, then back to Sienna. “This is… unnecessary.”
“Is it, though?” Sienna leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, her dark eyes alight with a mix of humor and determination. “You’re part of this team, Leona. And tomorrow night, we’re not just coworkers—we’re people. People who care about each other. And whether you like it or not, you’re one of us.”
The words hung in the air, firm but not unkind. Leona’s fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the desk. For a brief moment, a memory surfaced—her father handing her a small, engraved scalpel charm on the day she graduated medical school. *You belong here,* he’d said, his voice steady and sure. But belonging had always felt conditional, tied to achievement rather than connection.
Finally, Leona sighed, breaking the silence. “Fine. I’ll come. But only because you’ll never let me hear the end of it if I don’t.”
Sienna’s grin was triumphant, her dark eyes sparkling with victory. “You won’t regret it, I promise. Now, about your outfit—”
“Sienna,” Leona said warningly, her voice edged with exasperation, though her tone was softer now.
“Fine, fine.” Sienna held up her hands in mock surrender, her smile lingering as she grabbed her clipboard and stood. “But don’t say I didn’t try to help. See you tomorrow night, Dr. Hartley.”
As the door clicked shut behind her, Leona leaned back in her chair, her pen poised idly between her fingers. She glanced at the journal again, her hazel eyes lingering on the words *you might surprise yourself.*
The thought left her with an odd mix of apprehension and curiosity, the latter unsettling enough to make her sit up straighter. For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder if Sienna might actually be right.
