The nurses were beginning to panic. The man who'd just been rushed in from the car crash was refusing to let any of them treat his wounds. His left arm was twisted awkwardly in a sling, and his right leg was already swelling.
"I said—no one touches me unless they've got golden hands," the man groaned, tossing his dark hair back and shifting on the stretcher with exaggerated drama. "Where's your best doctor? Preferably tall and gorgeous."
The head nurse rolled her eyes and whispered to a nearby intern, "Get Dr. Pisal. Only he can handle this one."
Moments later, Dr. Pisal entered, still in his lab coat, gloves already on. Calm as always, in his signature blue suit under the coat, with eyes that held both compassion and quiet command.
He stepped toward the patient, glancing at the file briefly.
"Vong Sovann... rethy?" Pisal asked, his brow rising just slightly at the unusual name.
"Yes, doctor," the man replied with a half-smile, voice smooth and teasing. "And may I say, what a beautiful creature you are."
Pisal blinked, not expecting the compliment.
Sovannrethy continued, undeterred. "Are you taken? If so, I can wait. I'm very patient when it comes to people as divine as you."
"You broke your arm and your leg," Pisal deadpanned, crouching beside the stretcher to examine the injury. "Flirting might delay your healing."
"Then you better heal me quick," Sovannrethy replied.
Pisal carefully touched the bruised leg, watching the patient's expression. "Is it hurt?"
"Aww—yes! It hurts deadly!" Sovannrethy hissed dramatically, clutching the sides of the bed.
Pisal didn't flinch. "Well," he said, his voice cool and professional, "it's not as painful as your car. Lucky it protected you, or you'd be in more pieces than your pickup."
"That's true," Sovannrethy sighed with a dreamy tone. "But if you were the last face I saw before dying, I think I'd still be satisfied."
Pisal gave him a blank stare. "Try not to die next time."
"You care about me already?" Sovannrethy smirked.
Pisal stood, removing his gloves. "I care about not wasting a hospital bed."
Then he turned to the nurses. "Prep the OR. I'll do the surgery myself."
As the nurses nodded and rushed off, Sovannrethy leaned back with a mischievous grin.
"Looks like I've got exactly who I wanted. What a lucky day."
But deep in his mind, behind the charming smile and playful tone, he was calculating. He couldn't let his real identity slip. Nobody—not even this lovely doctor—could know his real identity.
VIP Patient Room – The Next Day
Dr. Pisal stood outside the VIP suite, exhaling quietly before knocking. The nurses had all mysteriously vanished the moment they found out Vong Sovannrethy had personally requested to be fed.
And not just by anyone.
By Dr. Pisal.
He walked in, holding a food tray. Sovannrethy was propped up on the hospital bed like royalty, arms still in slings, lips already curved in that signature smirk.
"You're late," Rethy said dramatically. "My stomach has been sobbing for hours."
Pisal set the tray down. "You're capable of chewing. Eat."
"With what hands, doctor?" Sovannrethy lifted both arms with a pained expression. "Unless you expect me to faceplant into the porridge?"
Pisal sighed and picked up the spoon.
"Fine," he muttered. "Open your mouth."
"Oh, I thought you'd never ask," Rethy replied playfully, leaning forward with an exaggerated "Aaaahhh."
Pisal fed him one spoon. Then another.
But by the fourth, Rethy spoke mid-chew, "You're not even looking me in the eyes. Is this how you treat your favorite patients?"
Pisal blinked. "You're not my favorite."
"Liar."
The doctor's patience cracked. He dropped the spoon back into the bowl with a harsh clink. "You know what? Feed yourself."
"I literally can't!"
"Then starve."
In one swift motion, Pisal stood and turned, heading for the door.
Behind him, Rethy shouted, "You arrogant—!"
Then, in a wild moment of defiance, he tried to kick the doctor with his uninjured leg.
But miscalculation was a cruel mistress.
His foot caught the edge of Pisal's coat—
And the doctor tripped.
Crash.
Pisal landed straight on top of Sovannrethy on the bed.
"Ack—!" Rethy groaned, "Are you trying to kill me?!"
"You're the one who kicked!"
"You fell like a whole tree—what are you made of?!"
The two of them were tangled awkwardly on the bed. Pisal, red with embarrassment, quickly pushed himself up, brushing off his coat.
"You're injured," he said through gritted teeth, trying to recompose himself. "Stop moving recklessly!"
"You're lucky I like pain," Sovannrethy muttered. "And men who throw food."
Pisal gave him a sharp glare. "Next time you need to eat, I'll call the janitor."
"And next time you fall on me, at least buy me dinner first," Rethy called after him, grinning through the pain as Pisal stormed out.
Scene: Hospital Corridor – Two Days Later
Pisal walked down the hallway, clipboard in hand, reviewing patient charts. He'd specifically told the nurses not to assign him to Room 909 today.
"Dr. Pisal!" one of the nurses called out from the corner.
He flinched.
"Room 909 has been paging nonstop," she said, hesitant. "He refuses to be seen by anyone else but you."
"I'm not available," Pisal said firmly, not even looking up.
"But he says it's urgent…"
The intercom beeped overhead.
"Paging Dr. Pisal to Room 909. Dr. Pisal, Room 909, please."
Pisal closed his eyes. That man changed the paging code?!
Room 909
Sovannrethy sat smugly on the bed, wearing custom silk pajamas someone had couriered over. He had a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose despite being indoors. The moment Pisal entered, he dramatically clutched his chest.
"Oh thank heavens! I thought I was going to perish."
Pisal folded his arms. "What is it now? Need someone to fluff your pillow?"
"No," Rethy said. "I need someone to hold the mirror while I brush my hair. I can't lift my arms, remember?"
"You have one functioning arm," Pisal muttered.
"Which I'll use to hold the comb."
Pisal looked up to the ceiling. "Why me?"
"Because you're my favorite doctor. Also," he leaned closer, grinning, "I've officially filed a request to have you assigned as my private physician."
Pisal stared. "You what?"
"You heard me. The board already approved it. You're mine now, Doctor Sweetheart."
"I'm revoking my license."
"Too late. We're in this together now."
Hospital Garden – Later That Day
Trying to escape, Pisal retreated to the garden to eat in peace. He sat under a tree, pulled out his lunch—and froze.
Sovannrethy was being wheeled toward him in a VIP wheelchair by a young male nurse, holding a smoothie like a cocktail.
"Wow, what a coincidence!" Rethy said brightly. "You picnic here too?"
Pisal dropped his spoon.
"You bribed the nurse again, didn't you?"
"No comment."
"Go back to your room."
"But I missed your face," Rethy said, sipping his smoothie.
Pisal got up to leave, but Rethy called out:
"Don't run from me, Doctor! It hurts when you ignore me—and also because my ribs are bruised from your fall!"
Pisal paused, sighed, then walked away without looking back.
Behind him, Sovannrethy grinned to himself.
He was already planning his next move.