Pregnant with an Lovely Liar

Clara had always dreamed of working in a prestigious hospital, and the day had finally arrived. With an impeccable resume and motivation running high, she arrived at Central Hospital, a place known for both its medical excellence and the strictness of its staff. Dressed in her pristine white uniform, she tried to calm her nerves while nervously fiddling with the edges of her folder.

"Clara Gómez," called a deep but warm male voice.

She immediately stood up, her hands slightly trembling. In front of her stood the Chief of Surgery, Dr. Jesús Rivas. His bearing was imposing, with a gaze that combined authority and a subtle charisma that seemed innate.

"Welcome. We're going to do a small practical test before making a final decision," he said as he began to walk.

With each step she took behind him, the pressure in her chest increased. The hospital, with its bright corridors and the faint scent of disinfectant, seemed like a maze of possibilities. They arrived at the hospitalization area, where Jesús pointed to a room.

"I want you to take care of the patient in this room. He needs a bandage change and monitoring. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Clara nodded, but inside, it felt as though the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. She took a deep breath before opening the door.

Inside, the room was bathed in midday light that filtered through the curtains. In the bed, a young man rested with a serene but curiously alert expression. His carefree smile widened as he saw her enter.

"Hello," he said, tilting his head. His voice had a softness that hid something deeper.

"Hello," Clara responded, feeling the blush rise in her neck. "I'm Clara Gómez. I'm here to take care of you."

"Nice to meet you, Clara. I'm Mateo."

As Clara began to do her work, the tension in the air became more palpable. Every movement seemed charged with an unknown energy, as if the very walls were holding their breath.

"You're new, right?" Mateo asked with a smile that seemed both friendly and provocative.

"Yes, today's my first day," she replied, trying to sound professional while avoiding looking directly into his eyes, which had a sparkle that disarmed her.

"I hope you stay for a long time," he murmured, and although his words were simple, the tone made them sound like a promise.

At one point, as she adjusted the pillows, their hands brushed. It was a brief contact, but the effect was devastating. Clara looked up, and their eyes locked.

Time seemed to stop. The world outside that room ceased to exist. Mateo's gaze was intense, almost hypnotic, as though he could see through every layer Clara tried to maintain.

"This... this isn't appropriate," Clara said, more to convince herself than him.

But before she could move, Mateo extended his hand and took her by the waist, pulling her closer. The beating of her heart echoed in her ears like a war drum.

"Sometimes what's appropriate is the least important thing," he whispered, a smile full of mystery on his lips.

Clara felt her entire world tilt. There was something in the way Mateo looked at her, a mix of tenderness and danger that both attracted and terrified her at the same time.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Jesús appeared with a slightly furrowed brow.

"Everything okay here?" he asked, his voice sounding more like a warning than a simple inquiry.

Clara stepped back immediately, trying to regain her composure.

"Yes, doctor. I was... finishing attending to the patient."

Jesús looked at both of them for a second that seemed eternal, then nodded slowly before leaving the room. Clara felt she could barely breathe.

She quickly gathered her things, avoiding looking at Mateo, but when she reached the door, she couldn't resist turning back one last time. He was still watching her, with a smile that seemed to promise this wouldn't be their last encounter.

When she stepped into the hallway, the fresh air hit her face, but it didn't calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. This first day of work hadn't been what she imagined. She leaned against the wall, placing a hand on her chest to try to steady the frantic rhythm of her heart.

"What the hell just happened?" she murmured to herself, still feeling the intensity of Mateo's gaze.

Unknowingly, Clara had taken the first step on a path filled with tempting promises and dangerous secrets. A part of her wanted to retreat, but another, stronger part, longed to discover what came next.

Inside the room, Mateo continued to gaze at the door Clara had exited through, as if waiting for her to come back. His mind was still trapped in that electrifying moment: the brush of their hands, the proximity of their bodies, the spark that had ignited something unexpected inside him. For a moment, he allowed himself to think that this fleeting connection could mean something more, but the sound of the door opening again abruptly pulled him out of his daydream.

Dana entered silently, carefully closing the door behind her. Her face showed a mix of tenderness and determination, the duality that had always defined her relationship with Mateo. She wore a simple yet elegant dress, and her hair cascaded in natural waves over her shoulders. There was something in her gaze, the way she looked at him, that conveyed both concern and, at the same time, the hope of sharing something special.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," Dana said in a calm voice, though beneath it, there was a slight unease. Her tone carried the same mix of softness and firmness she used when trying to hide what she was truly feeling.

Mateo looked up at her and gave a smile. It was one of those smiles of his that seemed to disarm any suspicion, but this time, it carried a barely perceptible shadow, a trace of the recent emotion he couldn't entirely mask.

"You never interrupt, Dana," he replied, trying to make his tone sound sincere.

She took a few steps toward the bed, letting the warmth of her gaze try to fill the space between them. She had been thinking about this moment all day, searching for the right words to speak to him. Since Mateo had been admitted to the hospital, Dana had done everything she could to stay by his side, to support him at every stage of his recovery. But, although she wanted to believe he valued her presence, she couldn't ignore the feeling that something had changed.

"I brought you this," she said, extending a small bouquet of white flowers she had bought on her way to the hospital. "I know it's not much, but I thought it might cheer you up a little."

Mateo accepted the flowers with a faint smile, though his mind still wandered in the images of Clara. Dana's words were like a distant echo, as if she were speaking from the other side of an invisible wall. As she arranged the flowers on the bedside table, Mateo wondered how he had come to this point. Dana was standing in front of him, offering her attention and care without conditions, and yet his heart beat differently for someone he barely knew.

Dana sat down in the chair next to the bed, resting her hands in her lap. Her expression was calm, but inside, a small unease was beginning to form. She had noticed something in the atmosphere when she entered the room, an indefinable feeling, as if she had interrupted something she shouldn't have seen. However, she said nothing. Perhaps it was just her imagination.

"You look better than the last time I came," she commented, trying to sound cheerful. "That's a good sign, right?"

Mateo nodded, forcing himself to focus on her. He knew Dana deserved more than automatic answers or empty smiles. She was there because she believed in them, in what they shared. And deep down, he knew he had built something with her that he didn't want to destroy. But at the same time, he felt trapped between the comfort of the known and the thrill of the unknown. And, above all, he knew there was a truth he still hadn't had the courage to confess: his marriage was monotonous, boring.

Dana, unaware of this secret, searched for signs in Mateo's eyes, hoping he would give her a reason to trust, to keep fighting for what they had. But the words he wasn't saying began to fill the space between them with an uncomfortable silence, one that promised more questions than answers.