The morning after my high school reunion, I woke up, eyes still glued shut, and immediately brushed my hand against a long, incredibly hairy leg. Driven by sheer, sleepy curiosity, I couldn't resist running my hand up and down it a few times... The very next second—BANG! The hotel room door burst open, and a crowd of people flooded inside. Terrified, I snatched my hand back, snapped my eyes open, and clutched the duvet tightly to my chest. "Dr. Carter, the Chief of Surgery needs you in..." The group of men who had just barged in suddenly stopped dead in their tracks, letting out a collective gasp of shock. Me: ??? What Dr. Carter? I followed their wide-eyed stares and glanced to my side. There was a man lying right next to me. Two long, straight legs, covered in enough masculine leg hair to scream raw testosterone. And further up... My eyes practically burned out of their sockets. "We... we didn't mean to..." The group of guys frantically covered their eyes, stammering apologies. I didn't recognize a single person in that group, and I definitely didn't recognize the man currently occupying my bed. Just as I was sitting there, completely paralyzed with panic— The man next to me reached out, gave the duvet a slight tug, cracked one eye open to look at me, and rasped, "Mind sharing a little?" It took my brain a full second to process that sentence before I let go of the blanket like it was on fire. The duvet slipped down, barely covering his essential anatomy. He closed his eye again and drawled lazily at the crowd by the door, "Are you guys leaving or what?" Whoa... I was so spooked by his casual attitude that I started to scramble out of bed. He let out a heavy sigh, sounding incredibly exhausted. "Not you." Upon hearing that, the group of men finally stopped gawking. One of them threw out a hasty, "The Chief is waiting to start the M&M conference, hurry up and get downstairs!" Then, they all practically tripped over each other running out of the room. The world suddenly went dead quiet. I sat there, clutching a corner of the duvet, shivering uncontrollably. The Playful Doctor vs. The Good Girl "What are you so scared of?" My trembling seemed to have finally killed his desire to sleep. He sighed, opened his eyes to look at me, but clearly couldn't keep them open and let them fall shut again. "I... I think... I'm a little sore," I blabbered, my brain completely short-circuiting from the shock. The second the words left my mouth, I wanted to slap myself. This time, his eyes snapped open and stayed open. He stared at me for a few long seconds, reached up to massage his temples, and then slung a long arm around my waist, pulling me haphazardly against him. "The first time is always like that. It'll fade in a bit." I think he was trying to comfort me. But I felt absolutely zero comfort. Instead, a cold sweat broke out all over my body. Then, I looked down and saw a small patch of blood on the pristine white hotel sheets... My scalp went numb. He noticed the bloodstain too. He froze for a moment, then reached out, ruffled my hair, and let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry. I guess I lost control." Lost control?! Another wave of cold sweat washed over me. "Who are you?" I asked, my voice cracking with pure misery. My question actually made him laugh, a sound born of sheer disbelief. "You don't even know who I am, and you still broke in here and slept with me?" "I... I can't remember anything..." I had never been in a situation like this in my entire life. I was covered in goosebumps. "I'm not going to get pregnant from this, am I?" Okay, I really had to hand it to myself. In the midst of all this existential panic and utter confusion, I still managed to prioritize the most critical question. Classic me. "..." He cracked an eye open to look at me again. He looked incredibly, profoundly exhausted. He looked so weak that I felt like if I poked him too hard, he might actually stop breathing. Just how wild was I last night to exhaust a grown man to this point? I was dying of shame. "No," he stated simply, getting straight to the point. I had zero experience, and I couldn't even remember the mechanics of what happened last night, so I didn't dare press for details. If he said I wouldn't get pregnant, I chose to believe him. After all, those guys called him a doctor. Maybe he used protection? That was the only thing I could tell myself. "So, um, bye?" Desperate to avoid the agonizing awkwardness of both of us being fully awake and sober, I chose the coward's way out. Flight. "..." He glanced at me, then suddenly chuckled. "Sure." I truly believed I would never see him again. Yet, two weeks later, clutching a positive pregnancy test, I found myself sitting outside his office at the hospital, shivering like a leaf. "Hey, future Mrs. Carter!" A young male doctor bounded up to me. I jumped out of my skin, almost having a heart attack right there in the waiting room. "Are you waiting for Dr. Carter?" He was grinning at me with the aggressive enthusiasm of a close friend. But in reality, the only time I had ever seen him was during that chaotic, mortifying morning in the hotel room. The morning I wanted to scrub from my brain forever. Two weeks ago, I attended my high school reunion, drank way too much, and stumbled into the wrong hotel room. I only found out later that Dr. Carter and a team of surgeons were at that hotel for a medical conference. In a twist of terrible fate, his room was right next to mine. He had come down with a severe fever, and the colleague who was checking on him had forgotten to pull the door shut when he left... and I just wandered right in. And then his colleagues came to wake him up for their morning meeting... Leading to the apocalyptic scene I woke up to. "Uh, yeah," I mumbled, my face burning so hot it felt like it was going to melt off. "Come wait inside." Without waiting for an answer, he practically dragged me into the doctors' private lounge. As we walked past Dr. Carter's desk, he glanced up at me. His expression was completely blank. It was like he had never seen me before in his life. To be fair, I was having a hard time recognizing him too. I had never seen him out of bed, fully dressed in his crisp, professional white coat. I waited in agonizing suspense for two hours. Staring at the nameplate on his desk, I finally learned his full name: Dr. Liam Carter, Cardiothoracic Surgeon. I discreetly googled him on my phone. And discovered he was already... 29 years old? I mentally calculated the massive generational gap between us. Finally, Liam walked into the office to change out of his scrubs. He shot me a suspicious look. "Are you waiting for Dr. Weeks?" Me: ??? "Dr. Carter, I'm waiting for you." I stood up, gripping my purse so tightly my knuckles were white. My voice was as quiet as a mouse. "And you are?" Me: ??? Did he seriously have amnesia the second he got out of bed? "Two weeks ago. At the Marriott. We..." I forced myself to explain, my voice losing confidence with every syllable. Finally, I gave up, pulled the pregnancy test out of my purse, and carefully held it out to him. "I think... I'm pregnant." "Liam, it's time for lunch." Right at that exact second, a female doctor barged into the office. I panicked, trying to hide the pregnancy test, but fumbled it. It clattered directly into the trash can next to his desk. I stared at the trash can, terrified he hadn't seen it clearly, agonizing over whether I should dig it out. "..." Liam didn't say a word. He just stared at me, a highly amused, calculated look in his eyes. "Is this your patient?" The female doctor clearly had no intention of leaving. She turned her scrutinizing gaze onto me. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The awkwardness was suffocating. "I have something to take care of. You guys go ahead." He didn't introduce me. I felt like I had been caught stealing. The female doctor looked incredibly displeased about leaving. Before she walked out, she intentionally tugged on Liam's sleeve—a blatant territorial claim. He has a girlfriend. The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. Yet Liam acted like absolutely nothing had happened. He sat back down in his rolling chair, pulled a patient chart toward him, and started writing. Then, in a half-joking tone, he asked, "Feeling better?" Whoa. My heart did a violent flip at his words. "I'm fine," I replied automatically. He shot me a fleeting, breezy glance and smiled again. "Want me to take responsibility?" I was honestly in awe of him. How could he calmly write medical charts at a time like this? He was acting like I was just here for a routine checkup. "I just don't know what to do." I had never expected him to take responsibility. I was just completely lost and overwhelmed by the result, hoping he might have some medical or practical advice. I tested the waters. "I should probably schedule an abortion, right?" I was trying to play it cool, but my palms were dripping with sweat. He kept writing in the chart, acting like I was discussing the weather and not our potential unborn child. What a jerk. His absolute calm was driving me insane. "Up to you." He suddenly looked up, his gaze locking directly onto mine. His face was entirely devoid of emotion. "If you've decided you don't want it, then don't have it." "Okay." Could I even have it? Given the absolute trainwreck of a situation... "Scared?" There was a distinct teasing lilt in his voice. "Yeah." I didn't know what else to say. "So now you know how to be scared..." He shot me a highly unreadable look, flipped to a fresh page in the chart, and smirked. "That's definitely not the girl I met that night." Me: ??? Thinking back to how half-dead he looked that morning, I desperately wanted to know what the hell I had actually done to him. But his comment made it sound like this entire disaster was 100% my fault, and that pissed me off. "It wasn't entirely my fault either," I mumbled, my voice so quiet I could barely hear myself. He suddenly stopped writing. He raised a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me, and a sudden, disarming smile broke across his usually stern face. "I was running a 103-degree fever that night. Did you really expect me to have the strength to fight you off?" Well... I was completely boxed in. If you didn't have the strength to fight me off, where did you find the strength to absolutely wreck me? I thought bitterly. A player is a player. He could casually bring up the most mortifying, unmentionable details without batting an eye. He was clearly a seasoned pro at handling 'situations' like this. I was completely out of my league. "If you've made up your mind..." He fell silent for a moment, finishing his notes. Once he signed the bottom of the page, he let out a sigh and looked up. "Let's do it next week." "Next week?" "Next week is the only time I have an opening in my schedule," he explained. "Okay." Adults have to pay the price for their actions. I didn't argue, I was just incredibly anxious. A week later, I was back in his office. My resolve to go through with the surgery was crumbling. It started because my mom had invited me over for family dinner this week. Sitting at the table with my stepdad, my younger half-brother, and my mom, the atmosphere was so warm and loud. When I got back to my tiny, silent apartment, I looked around the empty walls. The contrast of the warm family dinner flashed in my mind, and I let out a heavy sigh. I felt a wave of profound, crushing loneliness. My parents divorced when I was very young. After the split, I stayed with my mom. From middle school onward, I had been living in dorms. Because when I was in middle school, my mom met my stepdad and they built a new life together. She was so happy. I knew I should be happy for her. But coming back to this empty apartment, I just felt physically and emotionally drained. I suddenly really, really wanted to keep this baby. I was just so incredibly lonely. I knew Liam would never agree to it. No sane man in his position would. And he probably had a girlfriend. So, even as I sat in his office again, I was still agonizing over whether to keep it. "Future Mrs. Carter! Back to see our Dr. Carter again?" It was Dr. Weeks, the guy from last time. "Yeah." I sat there, feeling stiff and awkward. "Please don't call me that!" I whispered frantically. "Don't be shy," Dr. Weeks instantly slid into the chair next to me, looking around conspiratorially before dropping his voice. "We've all been taking bets for months on who would finally manage to tame the Ice King... We never saw you coming. We have mad respect for you, seriously." "Huh?" I was totally lost. "You guys have the wrong idea... He and I aren't..." Finally, I just threw my hands up and blurted out, "Doesn't he have a girlfriend? Please stop saying things like that." "Who?" Dr. Weeks suddenly looked deadly serious. "How do I not know about this?" "..." Now I was even more confused. Liam didn't have a girlfriend? Did I misread the situation with that female doctor? "Are you saying Dr. Carter is seeing another woman behind your back?!" "?" I had no idea how to explain that I was the "other woman." "Do you have a lot of free time on your hands, Dr. Weeks?" A voice suddenly floated down from above us, and a tall shadow fell over the desk. Liam! I jumped to my feet so fast I almost knocked the chair over. I felt exactly like a middle schooler caught gossiping in the back of the class. "I..." I tried to formulate a sentence. Dr. Weeks was equally terrified. He grabbed a random stack of charts and practically sprinted out of the room, pretending to be incredibly busy. "I wasn't talking to you." Once Dr. Weeks was gone, Liam's tone softened significantly. He reached out, gently ruffled my hair, and gestured for me to sit back down. He then took his seat behind his desk. I felt my face heat up. Why did he always insist on petting my head? Didn't he know it felt way too intimate and totally embarrassing? "Why do you always look so terrified of me?" he asked, studying me intently. "Do I look like a monster?" I sat down nervously. "No, it's just... you're a lot older than me... you feel like a..." "Like a what?" He looked highly amused. "An authority figure. An elder." I answered honestly. "An elder?" He let out a sharp bark of laughter. "How old are you?" "I'll be 22 next month." His laughter made me feel incredibly insecure. When a guy who is usually dead serious starts laughing, it is absolutely lethal. Especially since he possessed an objectively devastating face. "Yeah, you are pretty young." He stopped laughing, his expression turning thoughtful. "Wait here for a second." He suddenly stood up and walked into the adjoining locker room to change. Those few minutes of waiting were pure agony. I was agonizing over how to say what I needed to say. Because of what Dr. Weeks had just said—that Liam didn't have a girlfriend—my resolve had wavered even more. I was almost 22, and I had never had a real boyfriend. And Liam... well, whether it was his looks, his demeanor, or his career... he pretty much checked every single box I had ever imagined for a partner. Except for the fact that he was a massive player, obviously. I started thinking, maybe... maybe I could try dating him? Finally, I gathered every ounce of courage I had, stood up, walked to the locker room door, and knocked lightly. "Dr. Carter, I have a question." My fists were clenched tight. I honestly didn't have the guts to look him in the eye when I said this, so talking through the closed door was much easier. He didn't answer. I hesitated, but pushed forward anyway. "Do you have a girlfriend? Because if you don't... could we maybe... give this a try? I really want to keep the baby." Saying that sentence felt like it drained my entire life force. I stood outside the door, bracing myself for the verdict. Then, the door swung open. But instead of hearing his verdict, I was blasted by a voice coming from his phone on speaker...
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "400818", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel