Caleb’s smile remained on his face.
Completely innocent.
Completely unaware that he had just stepped into a battlefield.
Ethan looked at him for several seconds.
Then he looked at the cup of milk tea in his hand.
Then at me.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
The kind of calm that usually meant he was already angry.
—Student Moore.
Caleb straightened immediately.
—Yes, Professor Grant?
—Your research data.
—What about it?
Ethan looked down at his watch.
—There are three errors in your analysis from yesterday.
Caleb froze.
—Three?
—Yes.
—But Professor Howard already reviewed it…
—Professor Howard is not your final examiner.
Caleb immediately became serious.
—I will correct them.
Ethan nodded.
Then his eyes moved toward the milk tea again.
—And the drink.
Caleb blinked.
—The drink?
—Students should not bring sweet beverages into the neurosurgery department.
Caleb looked confused.
—But Professor Grant, it’s just milk tea.
—Exactly.
Ethan replied coldly.
—Sugar.
Caleb didn’t know how to respond.
I almost laughed.
Because the man who had just spent ten minutes explaining surgical techniques without emotion was now seriously discussing a cup of milk tea.
For me.
After Caleb finally left, Ethan walked into his office.
I followed.
The door closed.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I placed the milk tea on his desk.
—Professor Grant.
He looked up.
—What?
—Are you really worried about my stomach?
His hand holding the pen stopped.
—Yes.
I smiled.
—Only my stomach?
Silence.
Ethan looked away.
That was the first time I saw him avoid my eyes.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I sat across from him.
—Or are you worried that someone else bought me something?
His fingers tightened around the pen.
A normal person might not notice.
But I had lived with him for three months.
I knew every small movement.
The way he adjusted his glasses when he was nervous.
The way he tapped his fingers when he was thinking.
The way his ears became slightly red when he was embarrassed.
Like now.
—Nina.
His voice became serious.
—Don’t misunderstand.
—Then explain.
He remained silent.
For several seconds.
Finally, he sighed.
A rare expression of defeat appeared on his face.
—When did you notice?
I blinked.
—Notice what?
—That I care about you.
The room became quiet.
I didn’t expect those words from Ethan Grant.
Not because I didn’t believe he cared.
But because Ethan was the kind of person who would perform a complicated brain surgery without shaking…
yet couldn’t say a simple sentence about his feelings.
I looked at him.
—Since the oat milk.
His expression changed slightly.
—That early?
I nodded.
—You said it was on sale.
A faint embarrassment crossed his face.
—It was.
I raised an eyebrow.
—Ethan.
He looked away.
—Fine.
—It wasn’t.
I smiled.
Three months.
That was how long I had been married to this man.
Three months of living together.
Three months of pretending we were strangers outside.
Three months of watching him hide his kindness behind cold expressions.
But I never imagined that the reason he wanted to keep the marriage secret…
wasn’t because he was ashamed of me.
It was because he was afraid.
The next day, something happened that shocked the entire hospital.
During morning rounds, Ethan stopped in front of everyone.
Doctors.
Residents.
Nurses.
Everyone was there.
Caleb was also standing among them.
Ethan looked at me.
Then he said:
—Dr. Bennett.
I looked up.
—Yes, Professor Grant?
His expression remained serious.
But his next words made the entire hallway freeze.
—After work, don’t forget we have dinner with my parents.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Someone dropped a medical record.
A nurse almost choked on her coffee.
Caleb’s eyes widened.
—Dinner… with your parents?
I remained still.
Because everyone understood the meaning.
My husband had just publicly admitted that he had a wife.
And that wife was me.
Later that day, the hospital exploded with rumors.
“The coldest professor is married?”
“Who is his wife?”
“Why did nobody know?”
But Ethan acted as if nothing happened.
During lunch, he placed my favorite dish in front of me.
I looked at him.
—You know everyone knows now, right?
He nodded.
—Yes.
—And you don’t care?
He picked up his chopsticks.
—No.
I smiled.
—Why?
He looked at me.
For once, there was no hesitation.
—Because I realized something.
—What?
His voice lowered.
—Keeping our marriage secret protected my peace.
Pause.
—But it hurt you.
My smile faded slightly.
Because Ethan Grant, the man who rarely apologized, had just admitted he was wrong.
That evening, we went to his parents’ house.
His mother opened the door.
The moment she saw me, she smiled.
—Nina.
Then she turned around and shouted:
—Ethan finally brought his wife home!
I froze.
—Finally?
His mother laughed.
—That boy has been talking about you every day.
I turned toward Ethan.
He immediately looked away.
Impossible.
The same man who could lecture a room full of surgeons without fear…
was embarrassed by his own mother.
After dinner, I walked into the garden.
Ethan followed.
The night air was cool.
For a while, we just stood there.
Then he spoke.
—Nina.
—Hmm?
—Do you regret marrying me?
I looked at him.
The question surprised me.
Because Ethan Grant always looked like someone who had everything under control.
But at that moment…
he looked like a man afraid of losing something.
I smiled.
—No.
He looked relieved.
Then I added:
—But I do have one request.
—What?
I pointed at him.
—Stop pretending you don’t love me.
For the first time…
the cold professor had nowhere to hide.
His ears turned red.
And then, very quietly, he answered:
—I’ll try.
I laughed.
—That’s your confession?
He looked at me seriously.
—No.
He stepped closer.
—My confession is…
—I fell in love with you the day you fell asleep in the hospital library because you were too tired to go home.
My heart stopped.
Because I remembered that day.
I thought nobody noticed.
But Ethan did.
He always did.
The next morning, the hospital received shocking news.
A photo appeared on the internal staff group.
Ethan Grant.
Standing beside me.
Holding my hand.
The caption was simple:
“My wife.”
The entire hospital went crazy.
Especially Caleb.
Because underneath the photo, Ethan added another sentence:
“And no, she doesn’t need milk tea from other men.”
I stared at the screen.
Then looked at him.
—Ethan.
He calmly drank his coffee.
—What?
I tried not to laugh.
—Are you jealous?
He paused.
Then answered honestly:
—Yes.
The coldest doctor in the hospital finally admitted something everyone already knew.
He could be distant with the world.
He could be impossible to approach.
He could make an entire department nervous with one look.
But with me…
he was just Ethan.
My husband.
The man who secretly remembered my favorite drink.
The man who left the living room light on when I studied late.
The man who loved me quietly…
until he finally learned that love should not stay hidden forever.
