Chapter 6

THEN:

Will Jennings navigated the wedding venue with practiced ease, his eyes scanning the room as he exchanged handshakes with the other guests gathered to celebrate their mutual friends' big day. They were drawn to him, his laughs punctuating the hum of conversation, his smile contagious.

"Will, good to see you!" someone exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Wouldn't miss it," Will replied, his voice steady, an undercurrent of something deeper within.

The doors at the far end of the hall swung open, and then she entered. Angela Matthews. A vision in her understated elegance, her blonde hair catching the soft light, her blue eyes bright. Her mere presence caused heads to turn everywhere. Will's gaze lingered. She moved through the crowd, unaware yet of the gravity she wielded, her presence pulling him like a tide.

Their eyes met. It was an accidental collision of stares across the distance. Will's smile deepened, genuine for a moment, and Angela's lips curled into a responding smile, subtle but unmistakable. The air around them seemed charged, the world narrowing to the space between their glances.

"Beautiful ceremony, wasn't it?" he said later at the reception, easing closer to where she stood by the window, her silhouette framed against the setting sun.

"Absolutely," Angela agreed, turning toward him, the light playing off her features. Her tone was soft, her words deliberate.

"Stunning view, too." He gestured outside, but his eyes stayed on her.

"Quite stunning," she echoed, her gaze not leaving his.

A laugh burst out from a group nearby, breaking the spell, and they both looked away. But the connection, once made, was not easily undone. They were aware of each other now, their awareness mingling with the laughter and the clink of glasses, adding another layer to the evening's tapestry.

Will slid into his assigned seat at the dinner, the linen napkin crisply folded before him. He glanced at the name card next to his, and a flicker of surprise danced across his features. "Angela Matthews," he read aloud just as she approached with a graceful stride.

"Looks like fate's playing matchmaker," Angela quipped, her voice light, settling into the chair beside him.

"Or it has a sense of humor," Will countered, offering her a conspiratorial grin.

"Let's hope for both," she said, returning the smile.

Their laughter mingled with the soft clinking of silverware and murmurs of other guests. As the first course arrived, an array of delicate appetizers, their conversation flowed naturally, like a stream finding its path down a hillside.

"Medicine was always my calling," Will shared, his eyes alight with a fervor that went beyond mere career choice. "There's a thrill in the challenge, in unraveling the mysteries of the human body. Especially in children. I just love taking care of children, so that's why I chose pediatrics."

"Saving lives and loving children on top of it all, " Angela mused, admiration lacing her words. "Quite the combination."

"Every patient is a story," he continued, "and there's nothing more rewarding than adding a positive chapter to it."

"Spoken like a true hero." Her tone held warmth and a touch of playfulness.

Will blushed. No one had ever called him that.

"Hardly a hero," Will demurred with a gentle shake of his head. "Just someone who tries to make a difference."

Angela leaned in, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously. "So, Dr. Jennings, you solve mysteries of the body. Ever encounter any you couldn't crack?"

"More than I'd like to admit," Will confessed, an appreciative grin tugging at his lips. "But those are the cases that teach you the most."

"Ah, a perpetual student." She nodded sagely. "Humility in a doctor—I thought that was an urban legend."

"Only as rare as an easygoing wedding guest," he shot back with a playful glint in his eye.

Their banter danced between them, light and quick-footed. Angela's laughter, bright and genuine, filled the space around them with a warmth that seemed to draw others into their circle, yet they remained ensconced in their own private world. There could have been a thousand people in the room, and they would never have noticed.

"Speaking of legends," she continued, reaching for her glass, "I heard about a curious case from a friend in pediatrics. A real medical mystery, right here in the city."

"Is that so?" Will leaned closer, intrigued. "Do tell."

As she recounted the tale, her hand gestured animatedly, fingers brushing against his momentarily—a whisper of contact that sent a jolt through him, potent and unexpected. Their eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, the surrounding chatter faded into the background.

"Seems like your kind of challenge," she concluded, her voice now softer, somehow more intimate.

"Sounds like it." His response came out just a tad huskier than intended. "Perhaps we could discuss it further over coffee sometime?"

"Maybe we should," Angela agreed, the corners of her mouth lifting in a smile that promised shared secrets and the thrill of discovery.

The evening air seemed to thicken around them, charged with anticipation. Their connection deepened with each beat of the music, each shared glance.

The string quartet surged into a crescendo, their bows dancing furiously as Will and Angela swayed to the rhythm of the waltz. The grand ballroom was bathed in the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, casting prismatic light across the walls like scattered jewels. Laughter rippled through the air.

"Ever imagined yourself in a fairy tale?" Angela's voice was a whisper over the music, her eyes alight with the reflection of golden beams.

"More of a wilderness guide than a prince," Will replied, a half-smile playing on his lips.

Their movements were fluid, two figures gliding amidst a sea of celebrants. A floral scent drifted from the centerpieces, roses and lilies vying for dominance. The rich taste of chocolate still lingered on their tongues from the decadent wedding cake that had been cut moments ago.

"Yet here you are, leading the dance." Her fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder.

"Only because I found a willing partner."

A laugh escaped her, lost in a swell of violins. His hand rested at the small of her back, a touch both protective and possessive. She followed his lead, every step an unspoken promise.

"Angela!" A voice cut through the melody. Heads turned. It was the bride, radiant in layers of lace, her eyes bright with mischief. "Catch!"

The bouquet arced through the air, a streak of green and pink. Time slowed as it spiraled toward them. Guests held their breaths. Angela reacted instinctively, reaching out to pluck it from its flight. The room erupted in cheers.

"Seems fate has a sense of humor," Angela quipped, the corners of her eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Or a flair for the dramatic."

Their eyes locked, a silent conversation taking place. The world shrank to the space between them, charged with possibility. Her hand brushed against his, a spark leaping at the contact.

"May I steal you away?" His voice was a low rumble, barely audible above the orchestra playing.

"For a breath of fresh air?" she countered.

"Something like that."

They slipped away, unnoticed by the crowd. Outside, the night was alive with the symphony of crickets and the gentle murmur of distant conversations. Moonlight painted the garden silver, shadows playing hide and seek among the bushes and statues.

"Angela," he began, his words trailing off as he turned to face her.

"Tell me," she urged, stepping closer.

"Would it be too rash?—?"

His sentence was cut short as a sudden commotion erupted from the ballroom behind them—shouts and the crash of something breaking. Instinctively, they moved together, backs touching as they peered through the French doors.

Inside, the music had stopped. A figure lay sprawled on the dance floor, motionless, the crowd parting in shock. Panic began to ripple through the guests, a wave of horror washing over the celebration.

"Is that—?" Angela started, but Will was already moving.

"Stay here," he commanded, not as a request but as a necessity.

"Will!" she called after him, but he was gone, swallowed by the throng rushing to aid the fallen guest. Angela stood alone, the bouquet clutched in her hands, her heart racing. Without warning, what had begun as a night of enchantment had turned into a scene fraught with danger.

And just like that, the fairy tale was shattered.

Will surged forward, his heart pounding against his ribs. His polished shoes slipped on the glossy floor as he dodged a tangle of guests. Their faces blurred past him, expressions ranging from shock to disbelief.

"Make way!" His voice, firm and authoritative, cut through the clamor. "I'm a doctor!"

The lights overhead flickered, casting an eerie glow across the scene before steadying. Time seemed elastic, stretching and collapsing with each step he took toward the motionless figure.

"Call 911!" someone shouted behind him.

"Already did!" another voice responded, tinged with panic.

He reached the circle's edge. The fallen guest was face down. Will crouched, his fingers searching for the pulse at his neck—there was none.

"He's in cardiac arrest. Help me turn him over," he instructed, looking up at the hesitant bystanders. A pair of hands joined his, and together they gently rolled the guest onto his back.

"Clear some space!" His voice pierced the chaos, his command resonating in the suddenly hushed room. He started to perform CPR, grunting as he pressed on the man's chest. Frantically, he continued until the man came back to life.

"Someone get a cushion or a jacket!" Will's gaze didn't waver from the guest's pale face, now groaning softly, life fluttering back into alarmed eyes.

"Here!" A jacket was thrust into his hands, which he folded and placed under the man's head.

The guests receded like a tide going out, their murmurs fading. Angela remained rooted to her spot, watching Will with an intensity that spoke volumes. She could sense the danger lurking beneath the surface, the darkness that had been threatening to spill forth all evening.

"Stay with me," Will urged the guest, whose eyes fluttered open once more.

"Wha—what happened?" the guest croaked.

"We're figuring that out," Will assured him, his focus unwavering. "You're safe now."

"Safe," the man echoed weakly, a tremor in his voice.

"Paramedics are here." The groom's statement was both gentle and decisive.

"Good." Will nodded, rising to his feet. "You're going to be okay."

As medics arrived, a stretcher weaving through the thinning crowd, the once-celebratory atmosphere was now laden with concern and whispers of speculation.

"Will?" Angela approached tentatively, uncertainty etched into her features.

"Everything's under control," he told her, though his expressive eyes hinted at the storm raging inside him.

"Thank you," the guest mouthed to Will as he was carried away.

"Take care," Will replied, the gravity of the night pressing down upon him.

Angela reached out, her touch light on his arm, grounding.

"Come on," she whispered, guiding him away from the center of turmoil. "Let's find some air."

The night air engulfed their skin as they emerged from the chaos, a cathedral of silence enveloping them beneath the moonlit sky. Angela's grip on Will's arm was both delicate and determined, her presence an anchor in the tumultuous sea of the evening's events.

"Deep breaths," she coached softly, her voice cutting through the quiet with precision. "You were amazing in there. You saved that man's life. You really are a hero."

A shared silence fell between them, comfortable yet charged, their connection deepening beyond mere words. The night stretched on, witness to the subtle shift in their dynamic, a newfound intimacy blossoming under the watchful stars.

Angela looked at him, her eyes filled to the brim with admiration. Then she rose on her tippy toes and kissed him.