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Chapter 1 but to myself

time to think. And everything pointed to trauma to the abdominal region from the impact of the collision. It was a whirlwind of activity, a battle against time. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, sharpening my senses and focusing me on the task at hand. All around me, the residents watched intently, eager to learn from their masters. I needed to prove my worth, not only to her, but to myself. Every breath, every movement was an affirmation of my ability, my determination.

In the heat of the battle, the tension between us intensified, a silent duel of intelligence and will, each with their own function; me in the head and hers in the abdominal region. After a few minutes of frantic work, Amy stabilized the patient. "Ready, Dr. Clark," Amy said coldly. "We need to get him to an operating room now," she ordered, her tense voice cutting through the cold air. Her blue eyes, shining with a mixture of determination and urgency, fixed on mine. - There is a serious internal injury and he needs immediate surgery - she concluded and I nodded. We ran through the hospital corridors, side by side, towards the operating room and a team from the unit with a single goal: to save a life. Adrenaline ran through our veins. The patient, a dead weight in our arms, was our only mission. Merciless lights. Shiny instruments. Blood and sweat mixed together. The operating room was a battlefield, a stage for our expertise. My hands, steady and precise, worked tirelessly. Amy, a hurricane of strength and concentration at my side. I, Tyler, a neurosurgeon, was focused on the head trauma. While Amy, the "blonde devil" of trauma, an abdominal specialist, searched for the source of the internal bleeding. It would be long hours of surgery, an epic battle against death, every movement, every cut, every point crucial to the success of the operation. Amy was an exceptional trauma surgeon – traumatologist – I cannot deny that. In fact, we were good together, there was an inexplicable connection between us in the operating room. In my mind, the image of the two of us in four walls, on top of my bed, invades my thoughts. It was always like that, when someone with a brain injury arrived, I was called. And when the blonde devil was on duty, a good fight was inevitable. I was determined to do my job to save the patient, and she was just as determined. I will not deny under any circumstances that I like to see her in action, completely focused on her work and angry with me, irritating her. Finally, after hours of "fighting", we managed to stabilize the patient. The liver, severely damaged by the blow, was repaired with precision, technique and care. A sigh of relief escaped my lips. "We did it," I murmured exhaustedly. Exhausted but victorious, we took off our clothes, gloves, masks, and aprons. A smile of relief formed on the devil's lips, her eyes shining with something I had never seen before. - Thank God! - Amy thanked. - It was complicated, but we managed to save his life, despite the blow to his liver - she concluded, her voice full of emotion. - Fortunately, the head trauma was not as serious as I imagined, - I commented. - That's right! It was hard for you to accept it. - She reproached me, rolling her eyes. We walked side by side to the sink, carrying our hands symbolically stained with blood. The tension between us was palpable, a mixture of gratitude, exhaustion and something deeper, something I couldn't define. - Always wanting to be right, Dr. Kent - I teased, with a crooked smile. I nudged her, testing her limits or to see how far I could go. - I'm always right, Dr. Clark, you know that well - she said disdainfully. - In a matter of seconds I have to assess the patient's condition. If it weren't for the hemorrhage, I wouldn't have come face to face with you - she concluded, washing her hands. Her eyes fixed on mine for a moment, and I felt a wave of heat run through my body. There was something more than rivalry, something I couldn't decipher. A gleam of complicity hidden in her icy gaze. "Touché!" I agreed with a wink and we headed together towards the exit of the operating room. In the end, the patient's life was saved. But, in that operating room, something else had happened. An unexpected connection, a spark of desire that defied logic and reason. "Have you finished your shift for today, Amy?" I asked, when we reached the women's locker room, with her stopping at the door. "Thank God!" she exclaimed. "I'm exhausted, just dust. I want a long bath, food and bed," she declared, releasing her blond hair from its ponytail. "Do you need someone to wash your back?" I suggested with a mischievous smile on my lips. "No, thank you!" she refused, rolling her eyes. "I have a brush to do that job." An amused smile appeared on her lips. "What a shame!" I exclaimed. "Are you never going to give up, Dr. Clark?" - she asked, fixing her hair and staring at my face. Amy was beautiful and fascinated me in every way: her looks, her strong and determined gender, her sarcasm. Everything about her fascinated me. - I'm persistent when I want something or someone - I whispered close to her ear. - And, I want you very much, Amy. But, I'm patient. I turned on my heel and headed to the men's locker room, which was next to the women's. I went into the bathroom, opened my creaking metal locker and grabbed my clothes. I walked to a stall, dressed quickly, the adrenaline from the surgery still running through my system. With my keys and wallet in hand, I closed the locker and headed towards the parking lot. I was feeling the same way as the devil, exhausted, just dust, but with

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