Tedd had learned to keep things in.
Even before Jaimie.
Even before her tired eyes, her music, her pain—the kind he could see even in the way she smiled too politely.
He was a nurse, after all.
Tucking emotions behind latex gloves and IV bags was part of the job. You had to stay composed. Even when people cried. Even when they died.
And yet, Jaimie... she made everything unbearably personal.
She was sitting across him now, stirring her tea with a silver spoon, legs tucked under her like a child who was just starting to trust the world again.
"Are you always this quiet, Tedd?" she asked, not looking up.
"I guess so," he said, sipping from his own cup. "Comes with the job."
She smirked. "Or maybe you're just hiding something."
He froze.
Not visibly. But his fingers twitched. Barely.
Because she was right.
Every time she laughed softly.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRGauOphmWY
Every time she reached for his hand when a needle went in.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyUh4Z59pH9
Every time she sang and made the room feel warm—
He wanted to tell her everything.
But he didn't.
Because Tedd Armada had baggage too.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡt7wnQ5FBOA
A suitcase so tightly sealed that even he was afraid to unpack it.
He had been married.
Not a whirlwind romance. Not a passionate mistake.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLWExMUP3FF
But the quiet, practical kind of love that starts with overtime shifts and cafeteria dates.
Her name was Carla.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWaRI2PfQgg
A nurse like him.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFrTZZup830
They met in PGH. Married after two years. Built a modest home in Laguna.
Then Carla left for Dubai. A better offer. More money. She said it would only be for three years.
But halfway through the second year, she stopped calling.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3olshelklf
She stopped sending money.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAoKoFI3NLf
She stopped being his wife.
Until one day—she came home, pregnant.
Her eyes were dull, her voice colder.
"It's my boss," she said, arms wrapped around her belly. "I don't need anything from you. I just want peace."
Tedd hadn't raised his voice.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgtPsUb219M
He hadn't begged.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhIi3noR4Jm
He just signed the annulment papers months later and never told a soul.
Now here he was, halfway across Asia, caring for a woman who looked at him like maybe she could believe in someone again.
And it terrified him.
Because Jaimie had her own ghosts.
Because he saw how she flinched at words like commitment, father, family.
Because if she knew what he had been through—
She'd probably run.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuxI4pjldpX
Like all the others.
Or worse... she'd stay but never truly trust him.
One night, he watched her sleep.
Her hair was spread across the pillow like a halo of ink. Her breathing even. One arm across her stomach.
He sat by the window, battling himself.
You care too much.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhNVdVpipCr
She's your patient.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmkYVQXOg0r
She's not ready. You're not ready.
But feelings don't ask for permission.
And as she stirred slightly and murmured something in her sleep, he whispered softly under his breath, words barely reaching the air.
"You're not hard to love, Jaimie.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCv8KD0et1c
But I'm scared I don't deserve to try."
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡddZREz6MVn
