Heartbeats and Algorithms

Chapter 5: Bound By Worry

Xavier

It had been a few days since I last saw Jasmine, and though she had promised to rest, something about our interaction at the grocery store kept gnawing at me. Her stubbornness to take it easy despite the clear signs that her body wasn't ready to be up and about left me restless. I found myself checking my phone more often than usual, wondering if she'd need anything or if she'd call just to say she was feeling worse. I hated to admit it, but I was worried about her. More than I should be.

The memory of her swaying in the parking lot, her eyes glossing over as dizziness overtook her, played over in my mind. That image made it hard for me to shake the concern that maybe, just maybe, something more was going on. I had seen mild concussions before, but the way her symptoms seemed to fluctuate, how she was pushing through like nothing was wrong—it unsettled me.

My focus was all over the place at work. Every surgery, every consultation, my thoughts drifted back to her. Did she rest properly this time? Was her headache back? Had the dizziness worsened? I knew how patients could be, especially the stubborn ones. They rarely ever followed instructions, especially when they felt the need to keep their independence intact. But Jasmine... there was something different. Something deeper about my concern for her that I hadn't quite put my finger on yet.

I had half a mind to stop by and check on her again, but I didn't want to come off as overbearing. After all, we weren't that close. Our connection had been through Alana, and now here I was, feeling more responsible for her than a casual acquaintance probably should.

I sat in my office, trying to get through paperwork. The clacking of the keyboard in front of me blurred into background noise, overtaken by the sound of Jasmine's voice when she had said, "I was feeling okay... mostly." Those words looped in my mind, sparking my frustration.

Just as I was considering picking up the phone to text her, there was a knock at my office door. My colleague, Dr. Darius Jackson, poked his head in with a smirk. "You ready for lunch? I swear if I stare at another chart for five more minutes, I'm going to lose it."

I smiled back half-heartedly. "Yeah, give me a minute."

Darius stepped fully into the office, folding his arms. "You've been off lately, man. What's going on?"

I hesitated for a moment. Darius had a good read on people, and we'd been friends long enough that he could tell when something was bugging me. "Just thinking about a patient. Not really sure if she's following instructions."

He raised an eyebrow. "Must be some patient to have you this distracted."

I shrugged. "You know how it is. Some people just don't listen."

Darius chuckled, grabbing a chair and sitting across from me. "You talking about Jasmine?"

I shot him a look, and he grinned knowingly. "Alana mentioned you two bumped into each other at the store."

"She did, huh?" I muttered, leaning back in my chair.

"Look, man, I don't know all the details, but it sounds like you're more invested than usual."

"It's not like that," I said quickly, though even as I spoke, I realized how defensive I sounded. "I just don't want her hurting herself because she's too stubborn to rest. She's still recovering from the concussion."

Darius shrugged. "You care. There's nothing wrong with that. But don't let it get in the way of you doing your job or living your life."

I sighed. He wasn't wrong, but that didn't make it easier. "I know. I'm just trying to make sure she's okay."

"You should check on her then," he said simply, standing up. "Or you're going to drive yourself crazy thinking about it."

---

I gave in to the advice, texting Jasmine later that day to ask how she was feeling. The response was slower than I expected, but when it came through, I read it carefully:

*Hey, Xavier. I'm okay, just resting today. Thanks for checking on me.*

It was the answer I wanted to hear, but the fact that it had taken her a while to respond tugged at me. I decided that was it. No more tiptoeing around. If she wasn't going to take care of herself, I'd make sure she did.

The next morning, I found myself standing outside her apartment, balancing a bag of groceries in one hand and a to-go cup of herbal tea in the other. It was early, maybe too early for a drop-in, but I didn't care. I knocked gently, hoping she wouldn't be too upset by the intrusion.

When she opened the door, her surprise was clear. Her hair was tousled from sleep, and she blinked at me groggily. "Xavier? What are you doing here?"

I held up the bag. "Figured you might need a few things."

Jasmine hesitated, glancing between the bag and me, before stepping aside to let me in. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know," I said, setting the groceries on the counter. "But I wanted to. How are you feeling?"

She sat on the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Better... I think." Her voice was softer than usual, and I noticed a faint tension around her eyes, the kind that told me she wasn't feeling as well as she claimed.

I didn't push it, instead pulling up a chair across from her. "I brought you some tea. It's supposed to help with headaches."

She smiled faintly. "Thanks. You really didn't have to come all the way here."

I shrugged. "Maybe I didn't have to, but I wanted to check on you. You didn't sound too great in your text last night."

Jasmine looked down, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket draped over her legs. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

I shook my head. "You don't have to apologize. I'm just glad you're taking it easy now."

She nodded, but I could tell there was more she wasn't saying. "Xavier... why are you doing all this?"

Her question caught me off guard. I hadn't really thought about why I was going out of my way. It wasn't just because she was a patient or because I knew her through Alana. It was something more personal than that, though I wasn't ready to put it into words.

"I guess... because I care," I said finally, hoping the simplicity of my response would be enough.

Jasmine met my gaze, and for a moment, the silence between us said more than any words could.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with meaning.

In that moment, I realized that my concern for her ran deeper than I had let myself acknowledge. Maybe it was time to stop pretending otherwise.