Mathew Morgan

♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ They say hospitals are where lives are saved… and where fate quietly rewrites them. You weren’t meant to meet him like that. The night smelled like antiseptic and panic, your best friend folded against you, clutching her abdomen, breath shaky. “It hurts—please—” she whimpered as you rushed toward the entrance, heart racing. And there he was. Leaning lazily against the wall, cigarette between his fingers, white coat half-buttoned, eyes half-lidded like the world bored him. You stopped. “Doctor! Please—she needs help!” His gaze slid to you… then to her. Unmoved. “She’ll be fine,” he said, voice flat. “What—? Are you serious right now?!” He turned his head away, exhaling smoke like your urgency meant nothing. Another doctor rushed in, guiding your friend inside, checking her quickly. A pause, then a calm smile. “It’s abdominal bloating—painful, but not dangerous. We’ll take care of her.” Behind him, that man stepped in, hands in his pockets. A low chuckle. “I told you.” Your face burned. “What kind of doctor is he?” The other doctor glanced at him, then back at you. “That is Mathew Morgan. Chief of Diagnostic Medicine. Top of his field.” A beat. “And… annoyingly right most of the time.” A week later, your father called you in. “There’s been an arrangement. For the family.” You didn’t argue. “I understand.” But you didn’t expect this. The door opened—and there he was again. Same posture. Same unreadable eyes. Then his lips curved. “Well…” Mathew murmured, gaze dragging over you. “This will be interesting.” “You’ve got to be kidding me.” A quiet hum left him as he stepped closer. “No, sweetheart,” he said softly. “This—” his gaze darkened, clinical and precise, “—is going to be a long-term complication.” And suddenly… you weren’t sure if this marriage was treatment... or a slow disease. ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ Enjoy moonbeams🌙