She walked silently through the corridors, politely greeting a few colleagues who looked at her with curiosity. She knew there were rumors, but she had no desire to respond to any of them. Today, she just had to do her job.
She entered the nurses' room and froze for a few seconds. Teddy was there, sitting at his desk, eyes fixed on a computer screen. His features were drawn, fatigue visible, yet he maintained that natural presence, that authority that had always made him reassuring. Ice felt a pang in her chest.
Teddy looked up and saw her. Their eyes met for a moment too long. Ice felt a shiver run down her spine. Guilt, shame, and pain mixed with the strange fascination she had always felt for him.
He stood slowly, trying to smile, but the smile seemed fragile, almost forced.
"Good morning…" he murmured.
"Good morning," Ice replied, her voice slightly trembling.
There was a silence, heavy with unspoken words. Both knew what had happened yesterday, but neither wanted to be the first to break that invisible barrier. Teddy played the professional, but Ice could see the weight of guilt in his eyes. She, in turn, tried to breathe, to stay calm, but every fiber of her body screamed that she wanted to scream, cry, run.
"Did… did you have your coffee?" Teddy asked, almost awkwardly, seeking a trivial topic to start with.
"Yes…" Ice murmured, placing her hands on the counter. "I… I just wanted to get to work right away."
He nodded, understanding.
"All right… good," he said softly. "I… I don't want this to change anything here. Professionally, I mean."
Ice nodded, trying to breathe more steadily. But inside, her heart raced. She remembered Lora and Lily, Bern, and that night on the beach. Everything was tangled, explosive, impossible to put in neat boxes.
Teddy moved a little closer, lowering his voice so no other ear could hear.
"Ice…," he murmured. "I… I don't know what to say. I…"
Ice interrupted him gently, closing her eyes for a moment to calm herself.
"Teddy… it's nothing… I… I just want… to work. Today. Nothing more."
He nodded, almost relieved that she set clear boundaries. Yet his gaze remained charged with something Ice didn't want to decipher, nor understand at the moment.
The rest of the morning passed like this: precise gestures, measured words, professional smiles that didn't hide the tension between them. Every interaction with Teddy felt like walking on an invisible wire, ready to snap at the slightest misstep. Ice forced herself to stay focused on her patients, but her mind constantly drifted to the previous night, to Bern, to the guilt that wouldn't fade.
During the break, she sat alone in the staff room, hands wrapped around her cup of coffee. Her heart still raced, and she knew the day would be long. She inhaled deeply, trying to organize her thoughts.
"Ice…" a soft voice murmured behind her.
She jumped slightly and turned her head. It was Melissa, who had come to check on her. Ice gave her a small, grateful smile.
"I'm fine…" she murmured. "Just… heavy."
"I know…" Melissa replied calmly. "You're strong, Ice. You handle more than you think."
Ice nodded. She knew it, but that strength came at a cost: fatigue, anxiety, guilt, and a heart that raced every time she came into contact with Teddy.
Meanwhile, Teddy tried to gather his thoughts. He knew he had to find a way to fix something, even if he wasn't sure what to say or how to act. Every word he chose seemed insufficient, every gesture too late. But he wanted to at least try—for Ice, for himself, to repair what could be repaired.
— On Bern's Side (Corrected Version)
The morning sun bathed the city in a soft light, but Bern hardly noticed. He sat in the small apartment he had rented near the beach, knees pulled up to his chest, eyes fixed on the slightly open window. The fresh sea air entered, only accentuating the heat left in his body.
He thought of Ice. That night on the beach, every shiver, every burst of laughter, every brush of skin. It had been so intense, so real… yet he knew it was just a moment. No promises, no expectations, just a few suspended hours.
He ran a hand through his hair, clenching his fists.
"Damn…" he murmured. "She… she completely destabilized me."
Bern had known many women. Many conquests, quick adventures. But Ice… Ice wasn't like the others. Her gaze, her laugh, that way of mixing strength and fragility… it had struck him more than he could have imagined.
He stood and walked slowly through his apartment, the wooden floor creaking beneath his feet. Thoughts swirled: what had pushed her to act that way? Was it anger, loneliness, the night's adrenaline… or something he didn't yet understand?
He thought of that exact moment, when she had looked at him, that mixture of boldness and vulnerability in her eyes, as if she knew exactly the effect she had. His heart had leapt, his breathing quickened. Every movement, every sigh, every brush of skin had been a silent, electric tension.
"Damn… I've never… felt this…" Bern murmured, sitting on the couch.
He also remembered the silence afterward. When she had stood up, walked away gently, leaving behind that strange, burning impression, a mix of control and provocation. She had marked him, yes, but not enough to tie his heart: it was purely physical, an intense memory engraved in his senses.
He looked at his phone, hesitating. Send a message? No. Too soon, too strange, too… pointless. She didn't need anything from him, and he had no reason to remain in her world other than through that memory.
"Not now…" he murmured, setting the phone down.
Bern went to the window. Morning light illuminated the buildings, the sky was clear, yet all he could see was the image of the beach, her wet hair, the salt on her skin, the laughter that had enchanted him. Nothing sentimental, just that physical and sensory mark, that trace of desire and intensity still burning on his skin and in his mind.
He ran a hand over his face, sighed, then took a quick shower. The hot water ran over his skin but didn't wash away the heat or obsession. Every movement, every gesture seemed to revolve around her, around what he had felt, what his body refused to forget.
After dressing, he sat at his table, drank his coffee, and gazed at the horizon through the window. The world kept turning, but for him, that morning, everything was suspended in that memory of the beach, in what she had awakened in him.
"This is insane…" Bern murmured. "Just one night… and yet… impossible to forget."
He knew he had to let the moment be what it was: a striking, powerful, but unique instant. Nothing more. Nothing else.