Heat flooded my cheeks. "I did not get a dreamy look."
"You absolutely do," Sarah chimed in, eyes dancing with amusement.
Tori leaned forward, practically vibrating with curiosity. "Okay, but seriously—what are they like? I mean,reallylike? Everyone's got opinions, but you've actually been there. You've spent time with them."
And just like that, the floodgates opened. We talked for hours—about the Orcs, about Ruka, about how attraction doesn't follow a script or check boxes on some predetermined list. My friends didn't flinch, didn't make me feel like I'dconfessed something shameful or strange. They just listened, asked questions, shared their own thoughts about the Orcs who'd emerged from underground five years ago and turned the world sideways.
These women were my anchor, my chosen family. Leaving them would tear something loose inside me. But the truth—the truth I could barely admit even to myself—was that I didn't want to move far from the Orc village.
From Ruka.
He haunted me. Morning coffee tasted different because I remembered sharing tea with him in his dwelling, the steam curling between us like a question neither of us dared ask. Job searches became an exercise in distraction—my eyes would glaze over mid-scroll as his voice echoed in my memory, that deep rumble that seemed to resonate in my chest. The way he'd pause before speaking, choosing his words with the same care he gave everything else. Those dark eyes that saw straight through every defense I'd ever built.
I'd fallen down the research rabbit hole hard. Forums for interspecies relationships. Academic papers with titles like"Cross-Cultural Bonding Patterns in Post-Integration Society."Personal blogs from humans who'd chosen Orc partners. I'd bookmarked half the internet, reading late into the night, searching for... what? Permission? Precedent? Proof I wasn't losing my mind?
Because this was insane. Six months ago, if someone had told me I'd be lying awake fantasizing about an Orc chieftain, I would've laughed. But Ruka had demolished every assumption I'd ever made about attraction, about connection, about what it meant to trulyseesomeone and be seen in return.
I'd dated my share. Good men, mostly—doctors, professionals, guys who looked perfect on paper. But none of them had ever made my pulse race with just a glance. None ofthem had ever made me feel like I was standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying and absolutely right.
My truck became a monument to my indecision. I'd grab my keys, march outside with purpose, slide behind the wheel. I knew the route to the Orc village by heart now—I'd traveled it in my mind so many times. Once I made it all the way to the highway, indicator blinking, ready to merge.
Then my phone would buzz. Student loan payment due. Rent reminder. Interview confirmation. The weight of reality crushing that wild, reckless hope in my chest.
I'd pull over. Sit there gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles went white. Turn around. Drive home. Open my laptop. Rinse and repeat.
But the wanting never faded. It lived under my skin, a constant ache, a compass needle pointing stubbornly in one direction no matter how hard I tried to recalibrate. Every practical bone in my body screamed that I was being ridiculous—you don't upend your entire life for someone you've known for weeks. You don't throw away years of study and sacrifice and student debt for a feeling.
Except it wasn't just a feeling. It was a certainty, bone-deep and undeniable, that I was meant to be there. With him.
I just needed the universe to give me a sign. Something to tell me I wasn't completely insane for wanting to burn my carefully constructed life to the ground and follow my heart into the unknown.
The next morning I got it.
The email arrived at 6:47 AM, its subject line practically glowing on my screen: "Emory Healthcare - Lead ER Physician Position."
I nearly dropped my phone. My fingers fumbled as I opened it, heart hammering against my ribs. Dr. Patricia Chen—the intimidatingly brilliant department head who'd grilled mefor an hour and forty-five minutes during a video call two days ago—was offering me the job. Lead ER physician. The words blurred as I scanned down. Competitive salary that made my eyes widen, comprehensive student loan repayment assistance, full benefits package, generous relocation stipend. Everything. She was offering me everything I'd clawed my way toward through sleepless residency shifts and mountains of debt to achieve.
This is it, I thought, staring at those perfect, professional paragraphs.This is the sign.
The universe had spoken. Stay the course. Be sensible. Choose the career you've bled for, the stability you've dreamed about since your first day of med school. Atlanta was a thriving city—culture, opportunities, a real future stretching out before me like the yellow brick road.
I should have been dancing. Crying with relief. Calling everyone I knew.
Instead, I felt like someone had scooped out my insides and left me hollow.
I read the email again. Then again. Waiting for the joy to hit, for that surge of triumph and certainty that should come with getting exactly what you’d worked for. But all I could see was Ruka's face in the firelight, feel his hands cradling my jaw like I was something miraculous, remember that bone-deep sense ofhomeI'd felt in his village—a feeling I'd never experienced in any hospital, any house, any moment of my carefully planned life.
Dr. Chen needed my answer by Friday. Forty-eight hours to choose which version of my future I wanted to live.
I closed my laptop and escaped to the deck, clutching my coffee like a lifeline. I tried to summon excitement for this incredible opportunity. Tried to convince myself this was exactly the sign I'd begged for.
But my heart knew better. It knew I was holding the wrong answer whether my brain agreed or not.
I was nursing my third coffee of the day when I saw him—a figure materializing at the end of my driveway like something out of a dream.
My mug stopped halfway to my lips.
That walk. God, that walk. Unhurried but purposeful, broad shoulders cutting through the sunlight with the kind of confidence that made the world rearrange itself around him. The sun caught green skin, dark hair, and my heart simply stopped beating.