"I suffer from non-epileptic seizures. I'm an overthinker, and I struggle a lot when it comes to making basic decisions," Ortega's voice shook as he explained.
Dr. Sylvia's lips pressed into a thin line, her blue eyes narrowing imperceptibly. She remained composed, her posture rigid with barely concealed impatience. "Go on," she prompted, her voice calm yet laced with a hint of skepticism.
"I don't know how this surfaced because it's been a while since the last attack. I got super anxious while waiting for Gabriella's approval, and the whole thing just triggered, even though she commended my efforts in the end. My nerves couldn't take the wait. So my body gave in."
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," Sylvia sympathized, her voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm. "But you should have mentioned this earlier; then maybe everyone wouldn't have gotten so worked up over your situation. You had us all worried, you know. And now Gabriella feels guilty. All because you hadn't been honest from the start."
"I'm sorry then, it's my fault." Ortega looked downcast as he spoke. He rubbed his palms together and scratched his neck, trying to make his made-up situation look plausible.
"Also, um, I would like this to remain between us. I don't want the boss to hear about this, please?" Ortega wore a sad expression.
Sylvia rolled her eyes at his dramatic behavior. "Fine, but this is strike one. Another strike and the cat will be out of the bag."
"Ok..." Ortega nodded before furrowing his brows, "Kind of sounds like a threat."
"A warning," Sylvia corrected, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
Ortega's face turned pale, "I'll be careful." He shifted uncomfortably under Sylvia's piercing gaze, "Am I dismissed?"
Sylvia's lips curved as she shrugged her shoulders, "Sure, but one more thing," she said, inching towards Ortega and cupping his cheek, "Don't move."
Ortega felt his heart beating wildly, his mind almost turning blank at the sensation. Dr. Sylvia had touched him! Her soft, warm hand was on his cheek, and if he wasn't mistaken by the look in her eyes, she wanted to get frisky with him as well.
"Is this really happening?" Ortega thought, his lonely heart beating with anticipation. Him and Sylvia, getting down with each other in the clinic. How wild would that be?!
Her jasmine-scented cologne wafted, and he inhaled greedily. Her perfect face was too close, and her beautiful eyelashes danced as she blinked.
"Is this... my first kiss?" He pondered, thousands of romantic ideas flashing in his enraptured mind. Her supple, silver lips parted, and her eyes narrowed. The sight was tempting and stirred something in him. Before he knew it, Ortega fell into the moment, his own eyes closed and he pouted his lips, "It's a dream come true," he inched forward and her hand left his cheek.
"Is Dr. Sylvia in love with—"
Thwack!
Ortega didn't see it coming because his perception was murky. He heard a slight whoosh, and a soft palm smashed against his good cheek. The force behind the hit cleared the romance from his eyes and carried his body to the ground.
His eyes bulged in disbelief as he slowly rubbed the numb area, "What the—"
"Despicable," Sylvia exclaimed, wearing a disgusted expression as she looked at Ortega. "Out." She ordered, pointing to the exit.
Ortega failed to understand why Sylvia's mood had suddenly changed and asked to know what went wrong, his heart throbbing. "What did I do wrong?"
"I wanted to get a closer look at your eyes for any signs of inflammation that your seizure attack might've triggered, but clearly, you were getting some stupid ideas."
"Why didn't you clarify what you wanted to do in the first place? You made it seem as though you wanted to kiss me! You came into my personal space!" Ortega defended, feeling embarrassed at being toyed with.
Sylvia's eyes narrowed, her frustration evident. "I assure you, my focus is solely on your medical care. Any misinterpretation is unintentional."
"You hit me," Ortega said, touching his cheek, his voice a mixture of shock and hurt. He looked down, his eyes glazing over as he slowly stood up.
Unknown to Sylvia, a small smirk crept up his face as a devilish scheme brewed in his calculating mind. Suddenly, he yelled, "What kind of doctor slaps a traumatized patient? Medical care my foot! You hit me! You hit my face!"
"Keep your mouth shut this instant!" Sylvia's voice came out in a shrill whisper, as if she was afraid of someone eavesdropping on their conversation.
"I'll make a deal with you," she said, realizing she had made a grave mistake and no longer had control over the current situation. If word got out that she slapped a patient, everything she had built up so far would be lost. "This... Everything that happened here stays between us! You hear me?" She ground her teeth as she spoke, her voice biting.
"You can't say shit to nobody! Or else, everyone will know how you tried to harass a doctor because you couldn't keep your hormones in check!"
"Harass you? That's false because to me it looked like you were the one doing the harassment. You touched me, remember? I only tried kissing you because I thought it was what you wanted." Ortega blurted out, his eyes defiant as they locked with Sylvia's.
"And um, won't they also know how you hit a patient?" He continued, feeling a strange boldness rising within him. Sylvia struck him, and now, he returned the favor.
Sylvia recoiled with a frown upon hearing Ortega's words, her anger rising. She felt nothing would feel better than slapping his shameless face again.
"You—Fine! We both have dirt on each other now. It's best we call a truce." She said, struggling to control her anger.
"Alright, I won't tell on you if you don't tell on me." Ortega placed an open palm on his chest, "I swear."
The room fell into a tense silence as they stared at each other, the weight of their unspoken agreement heavy in the air. Neither felt the need to let their guard down.
"We have a deal then," Sylvia finally spoke, her arms folded and a scowl still on her face. "Now leave. I can't stand the sight of you."
Ortega nodded, his heart still racing, and turned to leave. As he walked out, he couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter had changed something fundamental between them.
He didn't blame her for hating him. In her shoes, he would feel the same. But despite the messy misunderstanding, Ortega didn't feel the need to take back everything he had said.
The situation between himself and Sylvia was a terrible one, born out of confusion and crossed signals. He still felt upset and puzzled as to why Sylvia had slapped him. She could have pushed him away or simply told him to stop. Instead, she had hit him. Ortega wasn't angry anymore, just stung by the unfairness of it.
Knowing he was in trouble from how angry Sylvia seemed, Ortega had resorted to emotional blackmail to secure a promise of secrecy. He judged that Sylvia had acted without thinking, maybe out of a reflexive emotional response. Pointing out the wrongness of her hitting a patient had been his way to evoke guilt and fear of exposure.
While he pretended to be asleep earlier, he had overheard Sylvia reprimanding Dina for hitting him. Now, he felt she was a hypocrite for repeating the same action against him.
Ortega had no lasting grudge against Sylvia. A beautiful woman could be excused for slapping him. He had acted out of self-preservation, knowing he could lose his job if word got out. As he stood with his back to the plain, shut door of the clinic, he heaved a quiet sigh of relief.
"That was close. It's a good thing she hit me, though."
He turned and began walking with calm, short strides. Sylvia could call him shameless or manipulative, but Ortega couldn't care less. Instead of worrying about her perception of him, his mind buzzed with ideas—ideas of how he could use Sylvia's guilt to his advantage.
"Because now, I have the upper hand," he murmured, subtly touching his left cheek.
The power dynamics had shifted, and Ortega knew that from this point forward, the game had changed.