A Long Day

POV: Sumi

The glass door to the clinic slid shut behind Sumi with a soft hiss. The familiar scent of disinfectant and cheap coffee washed over her, but it didn’t calm her the way it usually did. Her heart still felt like it was back in the car, beating in time with Eli’s voice.

He had gone in ahead of her, disappearing down the stairs toward the basement level where the empty rooms waited to be inspected. By the time she stepped into the reception area, the world upstairs was already in full motion.

“Morning, Dr. Nakamura!”

Aya, her receptionist, looked up from the desk with her usual bright smile. She was in her late twenties, petite and sharp-featured, with straight black hair cut into a neat bob and a taste for pastel blouses that softened her otherwise quick, foxlike gaze.

Beside her, Nur, the nurse, sorted files into a tray. Taller and fuller-figured, Nur had warm brown skin and dark eyes that missed very little—curious, assessing, always one step away from a grin or a cutting remark.

Both women paused when they saw Sumi’s face.

“You okay?” Nur asked. “You look… shaken.”

“I’m fine,” Sumi replied too quickly. “Just… a long drive.”

Aya tilted her head. “Where’s the guy you brought? The white one?” She lowered her voice on the last words, as if naming some rare creature you weren’t supposed to touch.

“Yeah,” Nur added, interest flaring. “We saw him go downstairs. You didn’t tell us you were bringing… that kind of guest.”

Sumi set her bag down a little too hard. “He’s… a potential tenant. He wants to open a gym in the downstairs space.”

Aya and Nur exchanged a look—curiosity, mischief, and the start of gossip all rolled into one.

“A white guy opening a gym under your practice?” Aya said. “That sounds like a headache.”

“Or a scandal,” Nur murmured. “People don’t just ignore that. Not here.”

Sumi’s jaw tightened.

“You don’t know him,” she said, sharper than she meant to. “You have no idea what he’s been through, or what he’s had to put up with to get this far. He’s not some random troublemaker you can joke about. He’s… a good man. Better than most I’ve met.”

That landed heavier than she intended. Both women blinked, caught off guard by the warmth and conviction in her voice.

Sumi exhaled, trying to smooth it over. “He’s just looking at rooms. Do your work and stay professional around him. He’s not someone you want to… toy with.”

The warning slipped out before she could stop it.

Aya’s brows climbed. “That sounded… oddly specific, boss.”

Nur leaned against the counter, eyes glinting. “What did he do?”

Heat climbed Sumi’s neck. A flash of Ortega on her knees, Eli’s calm voice, the way the world had seemed to tilt around him—she **** the images away.

“Nothing,” she lied. “Just—trust me. Be respectful. Keep your distance. You two couldn’t handle this kind of man… trust me.”

Aya leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. “If anyone here has to worry about getting in trouble for how they treat someone, it’s a white man, not us.”

Nur smirked. “Relax. We’re not stupid. We just want to see what kind of man walks into a place like this acting that sure of himself.”

The edge on sure of himself wasn’t lost on Sumi.

She opened her mouth to respond, but the first patient of the day walked in and the moment shattered. Routine slid into place—forms, greetings, quick histories—but nothing felt truly routine.

---

The morning dragged by in fragments.

Patients came and went. Sumi asked questions, listened to answers, filled out notes. Her mouth said all the right words, her hands moved with practiced ease, but everything felt a beat off, like her mind was half a step behind her body.

Behind every polite exchange, another voice lingered—deeper, rougher.

You’ll think about it all day.

He had been right.

Every time she glanced at the schedule, her eyes slid to the clock instead, as if time itself were pushing her forward—closer to four o’clock, and closer to something she refused to name. Her mind kept drifting back to Eli: the way he stepped into her space without asking, the way his body could block a hallway and make it feel like the world narrowed down to him alone.

She imagined him not stopping this time. No polite distance, no professional mask—just that steady, unflinching focus turning fully on her and refusing to let go until she did. What would it feel like to finally drop the act of being composed, competent, untouchable? To let herself fold into a will that didn’t ask permission, only caught her and held her there.

The thought scared her. The thought lit a slow, spiraling heat inside her that she couldn’t quite smother. And the worst part was how badly some quiet, starved part of her wanted to stop fighting and just… give in.

By midday, her head ached. She rested briefly against the doorframe of her office, closed her eyes, and **** herself to breathe.

Focus. You’re a doctor. You have responsibilities, she told herself.

Right on cue, her stomach growled. In all the chaos of the morning, she hadn’t eaten anything. For a second, a mundane, almost ridiculous thought cut through the noise: Did Aya and Nur at least grab something for me… or only for him?

The image came uninvited: the three of them downstairs, him at the center, her staff hovering closer than they should. Eli talking in that calm, unhurried way, Aya laughing too quickly, Nur holding his gaze a little too long.

The idea twisted in Sumi’s chest—annoyance, curiosity, and something uncomfortably close to jealousy.

She pushed back from the desk and stepped out into the hallway.

The reception area was empty. Aya’s chair sat abandoned, Nur’s station left with a half-sorted stack of files. No laughter, no voices—just the low hum of the building and the distant thrum of pipes.

Sumi hesitated, then retreated to her office.

When she returned to her desk, a small note lay on her keyboard.

We’re downstairs with the new guy, getting him something to eat. We left some food for you in the break room. He’s really nice.

– A & N

Sumi stared at the messy handwriting.

He’s really nice.

Her fingers trembled around the paper.

The image wouldn’t leave her alone. She saw him downstairs again—Eli leaning against the wall, then pushing off it with that lazy confidence that didn’t ask for space, it simply took it. She pictured Aya or Nur in front of him, smiling a little too brightly, only to fall quiet when he stepped closer. A low instruction. A pause. Just enough time to hesitate—before it became obvious there was only one answer: yes, especially once his hand found a chin and angled a face up, making them look at him and nowhere else. Another hand settled at the small of a back, not rough, just unavoidable, guiding them exactly where he wanted them. She could almost see their breathing shift, could almost hear the way their voices would thin out under that kind of attention.

It wasn’t just that he filled a room. It was the way he moved that made it feel like people weren’t just in his space—they were already his, the moment he decided to reach out.

She crumpled the note slightly without meaning to, then smoothed it back out with shaking hands.

---

The afternoon stretched like chewing gum.

Every patient seemed to talk longer than necessary. Every examination took forever. Each time she closed a door, she paused—listening for footsteps on the stairs, for any change in the rhythm of the building that might mean Eli was coming back up.

At some point, she realized she kept glancing at her reflection in the small wall mirror. Fixing her hair. Straightening her blouse. Checking nothing was out of place—and hating herself for caring.

At 3:00 p.m., her mouth was dry.

One more hour.

She sat at her desk, staring at an open report, reading the same sentence four times without absorbing it.

You have until four o’clock.

After that it’s just a rental contract.

After that it was just a business meeting. A potential tenant. Nothing more.

So why did it feel like one quiet choice—one walk down a set of stairs—was about to decide whether she kept sleepwalking through her life or finally woke up?

Her mind slid back to Eli again—how effortlessly he’d handled Ortega, how her authority had collapsed under his words, how quickly the roles had flipped. Sumi’s breath hitched, and her thighs pressed together under the desk before she even realized she’d moved.

What would he do if I went back downstairs?Would he be just as calm? Just as sure?What would I become under that kind of focus?

The thought left her both lightheaded and heavy, like she was sinking and floating at the same time.

At 3:30 p.m., there was a knock at her office door. Aya poked her head in, with Nur right behind her.

“Last patient is gone,” Aya said. “We’ve got a bit of breathing room.”

Nur’s grin was unmistakable. “Your Mister Basement is done looking at the place, by the way. We had lunch with him downstairs… though to be honest, we didn’t really get around to the food.” She giggled. “Depends how you interpret ‘eating out,’ I guess. He’s… wow.”

Sumi looked up. “Wow?”

Aya nodded slowly. “Not pretty-wow. More like… dangerously sexy wow.”

Nur laughed softly. “He knew exactly how to talk to us, how to treat us. Not disrespectful, not fake-friendly. Just… like it was obvious he’d be in charge of this place someday. And his idea of a ‘special warm-up’ was… intense. Let’s just say I won’t forget that little ‘stretching demo’ anytime soon.”

The way she said stretching demo made the back of Sumi’s neck prickle.

Sumi’s stomach tightened. “Where is he now?”

“Downstairs, in the hallway. Said he’s waiting for you,” Aya answered. Then she blinked. “Where are you going?”

Sumi was already standing. Her fingers briefly dug into the back of her chair before she let go.

“I need to clear something up,” she said, more sharply than she intended.

Nur traded a look with Aya. “With him?”

Something inside Sumi pulled and frayed—exhaustion, frustration, fear, and a sharp, stinging edge of jealousy all swirling together.

She stepped closer to them, close enough that both women straightened instinctively. For a moment she simply looked at them—at Aya’s bright, curious eyes, at Nur’s smirk that didn’t quite hide her interest.

“You two are going home early today,” Sumi said quietly.

Aya blinked. “Home? But—”

“No more patients, no more paperwork,” Sumi cut in. “I’ll lock up. You’ve both done enough.”

Nur let out a small, surprised laugh. “Since when do we get rewarded for gossiping about your tenant?”

They were still half-smiling, half-teasing—until Sumi reached out and caught each of them at the back of the neck, drawing them in close for a heartbeat before steering them a step back from her office doorway. Her hands weren’t cruel, but there was no softness in her eyes.

“Listen carefully,” she said, her voice low. “Whatever you think I’m doing, or not doing, with him… is not your concern. I’m your boss. This is my clinic. From today on, you remember that I decide what happens here—and who has weight in this building. If either of you forgets that, you won’t just lose a few hours on the schedule. You’ll lose your place here. And I promise you, I can replace you much faster than you can replace this job.”

Aya swallowed. The joking light dimmed a little.

Nur nodded once, more serious now. “Understood, Dr. Nakamura.”

Sumi let go of their shoulders.

“You’ll both go now,” she continued. “Go home, rest, enjoy the evening. Tomorrow you come back on time, do your jobs, and leave the rest to me.”

Aya hesitated. “We just thought—”

“I know exactly what you thought,” Sumi said. “And you’re not completely wrong.”

Both women stilled at that.

Sumi drew in a breath, feeling the words push against her teeth before she let them out.

“I’m done pretending I don’t know the difference between a man who drifts and a man who decides,” she said. “Whatever happens next… I will have chosen it. That’s all you need to know.”

Aya and Nur exchanged a look—half nervous, half thrilled.

“You’re really going to go and… talk to him?” Aya asked softly, the way she leaned on the word making it clear she meant anything but small talk.

Sumi’s lips curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Talking will be the least of it,” she said quietly. “I’m going down there to let him decide what happens next.”

That left the two of them wide-eyed and flushed, half-kidding, half genuinely stunned.

“Go,” Sumi repeated.

This time, they obeyed. Their footsteps echoed down the hall, fading toward the entrance. She could almost hear them start whispering as soon as they thought they were out of earshot—about Eli, about their boss, about what might be happening downstairs.

When the front door finally clicked shut, the clinic fell into a deeper kind of silence.

Sumi stood alone in the corridor, heart pounding.

I’m really doing this.

There was no one left to see her falter now. No one to catch the conflict in her eyes. No one to hear the small, broken thought that surfaced as clearly as if she’d spoken it aloud:

I’m sorry, Haruto, she thought, the words landing like a stone in her chest. I’ve tried to be good. I’ve tried to be enough. But I can’t go back to feeling nothing.

She didn’t dare say the word submit, but it pulsed in the silence between her breaths. She knew exactly what walking downstairs meant. What it would do to her marriage, to the careful image she’d spent years constructing, to the story she told herself about the kind of woman she was.

And still, her feet moved.

She turned toward the stairwell.

Her hand found the rail, fingers curling around the cold metal. Somewhere below, one presence waited—steady, unhurried, utterly certain of itself, as if he’d always known she would come.

Sumi swallowed hard.

Take whatever you want from me, her mind whispered, terrifying and honest. Just don’t let me be numb again.

Then she began to walk, each step carrying her closer to the man who had given her a choice… and to the version of herself that had already chosen him.