The café was loud in the way Lian preferred. People talking over each other.

  Kai sat two tables away with a newspaper he was not reading. Every few seconds his eyes flicked up and found her. She gave him a small nod.

  The doctor arrived five minutes late.

  He looked the same and not the same. Hair neatly styled. Coat expensive but understated. The face was familiar. The eyes were tired in a way they had not been before.

  “Lian,” he said, smiling as if they had spoken yesterday.

  “You are late,” she replied.

  “Habit from the hospital.”

  He pulled out the chair across from her and sat. No hesitation. No fear. That unsettled her more than anything.

  “You picked a busy place,” he said.

  “You always liked people watching,” she answered.

  He laughed softly. “You remember that.”

  She folded her hands around her cup. “I remember a lot.”

  A server came by. He ordered coffee without looking at the menu. Same as before.

  Silence stretched.

  “You asked to meet,” he said gently. “That usually means trouble.”

  “I saw your name,” Lian said. “On approvals. On shipments.”

  His smile faded just enough. “You have always been direct.”

  “I do not want excuses.”

  “I would not insult you with one.”

  The coffee arrived. He stirred it slowly.

  “I work with a foundation now,” he said. “They fund research the public system will not touch.”

  “Unregulated,” Lian said.

  “Unrestricted,” he corrected. “There is a difference.”

  “There are missing supplies.”

  He sighed. “Hospitals lose things all the time.”

  “These were redirected.”

  He looked up at her then. Really looked. “Who told you that.”

  She leaned back. “You know I cannot answer that.”

  A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. Gone as quickly as it appeared.

  “You are not involved,” she said. “That is all I need to hear.”

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  He was quiet for a moment. Around them the café buzzed with ordinary life.

  “I sign papers,” he said finally. “I review proposals. I argue with boards who have never stepped into an operating room but think they know how medicine should work.”

  “That is not an answer.”

  “I am not injecting people in basements,” he said sharply. “If that is what you think.”

  “I think you are closer to something dangerous than you realize.”

  His jaw tightened. “You always thought you knew better.”

  She winced. “That is not fair.”

  “Is it not,” he asked. “You disappear. You come back bleeding. You refuse to tell me where you go or why. And now you sit across from me acting like a judge.”

  “I am worried,” she said. “That is allowed.”

  He leaned forward. “About me or about what I might become.”

  She did not answer immediately.

  “I have patients,” he continued. “Real people. People who would be dead if we waited for permission to help them.”

  “And if something goes wrong.”

  “Then we fix it,” he said. “That is what doctors do.”

  She shook her head. “You cannot fix everything.”

  “You never believed that,” he said quietly. “You always thought the world could be cut cleanly. Bad removed. Good left behind.”

  Her voice dropped. “You know that is not true.”

  “I know you carry a knife,” he replied. “And that you use it.”

  She froze.

  Kai shifted in his seat across the room.

  “You followed me,” Lian said.

  “I noticed patterns,” he said. “I did not need to follow.”

  “Then why meet.”

  “Because you asked,” he said. “And because part of me hoped you were wrong.”

  She searched his face. “Wrong about what.”

  “That you had already decided.”

  She swallowed. “Decided what.”

  “That I am already on the other side of whatever line you draw.”

  The server passed again. Asked if they needed anything. They both shook their heads.

  “You could step back,” Lian said. “Leave the foundation. Walk away.”

  “And go where,” he asked. “Back to being blocked at every turn. Watching people die because funding committees need another year.”

  “You could come with us,” she said before she could stop herself.

  He stared. “Us.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. “Forget I said that.”

  “No,” he said. “I want to hear it.”

  “There is nothing to hear,” she said. “It was a mistake.”

  He smiled sadly. “You always wanted to save everyone.”

  “And you always wanted to fix the system,” she replied. “Even if it broke you.”

  “Maybe it already did,” he said.

  They sat there in the noise and the light and the smell of coffee.

  “I am not your enemy,” he said.

  “I know,” she replied. “That is why this is hard.”

  He stood. Smoothed his coat. “Be careful,” he said. “Whatever game you are playing. There are people who do not care about lines at all.”

  She looked up at him. “You sound like you are warning me.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  He hesitated. “I did not copy my access key.”

  Her heart thudded. “Then who did.”

  He shook his head. “Someone who wanted it to look like me.”

  “Why tell me that.”

  “Because if you are going to keep digging,” he said, “I would rather you not dig straight through me.”

  He turned and walked away into the crowd.

  Kai was beside her a moment later.

  “You okay,” he asked.

  She nodded slowly. “I do not know.”

  He glanced toward the door. “He knows more than he says.”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “And he did not deny involvement.”

  “No.”

  Kai frowned. “That worries me.”

  “It should,” she said.

  They left the café separately. Just like they had planned.

  Outside the city moved on.