The next morning, Aiden woke up confused, wrapped in a pink blanket. His eyes blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. How the hell did he end up in Garfield pink pajamas that were way too tight? And this definitely wasn't his room. He was in a living room he didn't recognize, one that screamed "feminine" with all its soft, pastel decorations. His brain fumbled to piece together the night before. He'd been out drinking with his buddies.
"Michelle? Is this Michelle's place?" he muttered, his voice still hoarse from the hangover. Michelle was the only woman on his team, so it made sense she'd be the one to deal with him.
He called out her name a few more times, but the apartment stayed quiet. He groaned, pushing himself off the couch and spotting a note on the coffee table.
'You were drunk last night. Your phone died, and I didn't know where to take you, so I brought you here. Your clothes were soaked, so I changed them. Didn't want you catching a cold.
Your dry clothes are in the laundry.
Don't get any ideas, and don't tell anyone about this. Ugh!
— Lim'
Aiden winced at the last part. "She didn't even apologize for putting me in these ridiculous pajamas?" He shook his head, chuckling despite himself. Leave it to Dr. Lim to be both caring and brutally straightforward at the same time.
He glanced down at the Garfield pajamas again, shaking his head. "Former swim team captain, and this is how I end up?"
Not wanting to embarrass himself further, he jumped up, made his way to the bathroom, and quickly cleaned up. By the time he was dressed in his dry clothes, which thankfully smelled of laundry detergent and not the alcohol from the night before.
"I'm starving. Does this woman have any food in her house?" Aiden opened the fridge, and being careless, he cut himself on a knife resting on a pudding plate. "Shit!" His hand started bleeding, and he quickly grabbed a tissue from the table. The cut was deep, so Aiden looked for a first aid kit on the wall, but couldn't find anything.
He rummaged through the drawers and finally found what he needed. "Here it is!" But at the same time, he also came across two magenta-colored toys. Adult toys. One was long, and the other was a small oval.
"She...?" Aiden didn't dwell on it as he glanced at the clock. "She's an adult, anyway." He quickly bandaged his hand with the only available Garfield-patterned band-aid. "This woman, seriously!" But he had no choice; it was better than letting the blood keep flowing.
He hurried out of the apartment and made it to the hospital just in time, barely beating the clock. He quickly slipped into his usual role, heading straight to Mr. Zhao's room for his morning check-up. The older man greeted him with a sly smile, one that told Aiden he was up to something.
"Good morning, Mr. Zhao," Aiden greeted, pulling out his tablet to review the patient's charts. "Everything looking good today? Remember, stick to the hospital food, no sneaking in snacks that aren't on the approved list."
Mr. Zhao nodded, still smiling. "I trust your advice, doctor. I'm in no rush. I'm enjoying myself quite a bit."
Aiden raised an eyebrow. Mr. Zhao always seemed unusually happy when Aiden saw him. "You seem to be in a good mood. What's got you so cheerful?"
Zhao's eyes softened as he looked out the window, the morning light catching the wrinkles on his face. "A father only wants to see his only child happy. What else could I wish for before my time comes?" he said, his voice thick with sincerity. "Young people, they chase after fleeting things, and forget what real happiness is. Parents... we just want to be a bridge to that understanding."
Aiden's chest tightened, but he kept his face neutral. The happiness Mr. Zhao talked about felt like a knife twist to him. He couldn't stop thinking about how what made Zhao's son happy was exactly what made him miserable.
"Wait, aren't those the same clothes you wore yesterday?" Mr. Zhao asked suddenly, breaking Aiden's train of thought.
Aiden paused, caught off guard by the question. "You remember what I wore yesterday?"
Mr. Zhao gave a small nod, a knowing look in his eyes. There was something off about it, but Aiden didn't dwell on it. Instead, he gave a half-smile. "I figured you'd want to enjoy this happy period a bit longer. So, maybe you could listen to me and stick to the doctor's orders, huh? Patience pays off, after all. Think about all the beautiful things you'd still get to witness if you take care of yourself."
Just then, a bodyguard entered the room, whispering something in Mr. Zhao's ear. Aiden watched as the older man's eyebrows rose, and a small grin spread across his face upon receiving the information that Nick and Amelia had spent the night at a hotel.
"You're either a great doctor or a fortune-teller," Zhao chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
Aiden blinked, confused. But before he could ask what that was about, his pager went off, and he had to leave.
After finishing his rounds, he walked into the office, and Michelle was already there, buried in a stack of medical papers. Her focus was laser-sharp, so much so that she didn't even glance up as he walked in.
"Dr. Lim, could you check these over real quick?" she asked, her eyes still glued to the document. "Dr. Li—"
She stopped mid-sentence when she realized it wasn't Dr. Lim standing there. It was Aiden.
"Oh, it's you," she muttered, looking back at her papers.
Aiden frowned, sipping his coffee. "What's the deal?"
Michelle shook her head, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. "Nothing, I just thought it was Dr. Lim who walked in. You both—smell the same."
Aiden froze, nearly choking on his coffee. Crap, that was right—he'd used Lim's shampoo and soap when he showered at her place. The detergent and the fabric softener as well ….
Michelle's eyes narrowed slightly, her smile fading as her gaze moved down to his clothes. She pointed at him accusingly. "You didn't go home last night, did you?"