Incidents and Accidents

Dear Diary,

Ferbruary 7th, 2025

It has been seven grueling days since “Great” Aunt Jasmine invaded my home. Seven days of waking up to her voice at ungodly hours, seven days of unsolicited life advice, seven days of my personal hell.

My home is now the last place I want to be. Not only is it more cramped now, but it is so exhausting. You see, Aunt Jasmine and Daphne don’t get along—they never did. One of the many reasons I didn’t want her living with us. 

Anyway, my apartment is a one-bedroom, as you know. So, to Daphne’s annoyance, we gave the bed to Aunt Jasmine. Daphne took the couch and I slept on the floor in my own apartment that I pay for. And I gotta tell you, it’s so fucking cold on the floor. Now I regret not buying a rug Lily suggested.

Speaking of Lily, I would have rather stayed with her, but she was already out of town by the time I found out about this Jasmine situation. She went to visit her family after spending time with us over the Christmas holidays, and I regret not accepting her invitation to go with her.

In other, actual good news, Lucy and the kittens are doing great. The problem? Aunt Jasmine hates cats. Like, viscerally. She’s also deathly allergic to them, which I guess is bad ... for her. I found out how bad when Lucy walked in the living room and Aunt Jasmine started sneezing something fierce. Still, I wanted to make sure she wasn't just faking. I waited for a while and things seemed normal. Lucy jumped on Daphne's lap and Aunt Jasmine collapsed. She was having a severe allergic reaction.

Nasty red bumps filled all over her arms and her throat closed for a while, unfortunately. So we had to rush her to the hospital that was closest. I had half a mind to take her to the vet that was run by Nicole but I wasn’t sure how helpful she would be.

I had no choice but to take her to the Maka General Hospital — a place that smelled like antiseptic and regret. I swear, the waiting room alone looked like it had given up on life sometime in the mid-2000s. The flickering overhead light didn’t help either, casting weird shadows like we were in a low-budget horror movie.

We burst through the emergency entrance like a chaotic little parade. Aunt Jasmine was wheezing, clawing at her neck like a Victorian heroine in distress. Daphne was yelling something at the receptionist. I was holding Lucy in a towel, because apparently, leaving the cat behind had slipped my mind. Oops.

“She’s having an allergic reaction!” I half-shouted, half-pleaded.

Thankfully, the nurse on duty took one look at Aunt Jasmine’s face — blotchy, red, and pure fury — and immediately called for emergency assistance. They whisked her away on a stretcher so fast it was like she had VIP status.

That’s when I saw her. Nicole.

In full scrubs, her hair pulled back, still somehow managed to look like she walked out of a medical drama. My heart had the audacity to skip.

“Max?” she blinked, then smiled. “What are you doing here? Are you sick?”

“My great aunt had an allergic reaction to something,” I said, watching Aunt Jasmine being wheeled off like an unwilling patient shaking her fists at me.

Nicole gave me a look. The kind that said, I want to laugh but also this might be serious.

“Come with me,” she said, already walking briskly toward one of the exam rooms.

As Nicole worked, hooking Aunt Jasmine up to machines and prepping an epi shot, I stood awkwardly to the side holding Lucy, who started purring.

This is not the time for this.

“You brought the cat with you?” Nicole asked, incredulous.

“Yeah, there was no one at home, it was just a reflex,” I muttered.

“Are the kittens in the car?” she asked.

Okay, maybe I didn’t think this through. I could have left Lucy with the kittens. Fuck me. But never mind that, there is something that has been bothering me since I arrived.

“Um, Doctor Nicole. Uh, aren’t you a vet?”

Nicole plunged the EPI pen into Aunt Jasmine’s thigh, calm and focused as ever. My aunt groaned, more in protest than pain. She tried to mutter a word but couldn't.

“I thought I told you to just call me Nicole,” she said, pulling the pen out and disposing of it like she’d done this a hundred times, which she probably had. “Although that would be inappropriate for a patient to do, so I’ll let you off with a warning…this time.”

Then she glanced up at me, flicking her ponytail loose. Her dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and the rubber band she’d used slid onto her wrist like some casual accessory. I think I forgot how to breathe for a second.

“To answer your question, I do sometimes volunteer at the local veterinary when I’m free,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “But my main work is here, at the hospital.”

“Wow, that’s… impressive,” I said, genuinely. “So are you, like, a nurse?”

She narrowed her eyes, mock-offended. “Ouch. I’m a doctor.”

She pointed at her ID badge, clipped near her chest. I looked and realized too late that I may have looked a bit too long. I couldn’t tell you what the badge read, even now.

“Ah ...yeah, no, I see that. Makes sense,” I stammered. “Didn’t mean anything by it, just… you know… you’re kind of everywhere. Like a superhero. You’re just missing the cape.”

Nicole smirked, folding her arms. “Nice save.”

Aunt Jasmine, who was slowly coming back to life on the hospital bed, let out a theatrical sigh.

“I am literally dying, and you two are flirting like this is Grey’s Anatomy.”

“We’re not flirting Aunt Jasmine,” I said immediately.

“We’re not?” Nicole asked, raising an eyebrow, her voice full of teasing curiosity.

I blinked at her. “I...I mean...uh…”

Think of something, you fool.

She leaned slightly toward me, just enough to throw off my mental balance. 

“Okay. So what are we doing, Max?”

My brain short-circuited.

Aunt Jasmine groaned again, louder this time. “Oh, spare me.”

Nicole laughed softly and turned back to her. “You’ll be fine, Aunt Jasmine. I just need to borrow your charming nephew for a second.”

“That’s fine, dear,” Aunt Jasmine smiled. “I’ll be right here, slowly…expiring.”

Sometimes I can't tell when my Great Aunt Jasmine is joking.

Once Jasmine was stable and grumbling under light sedation, Nicole pulled me into the hallway.

She crossed her arms, that teasing look back in full force. “So, last night after I got home from a twelve-hour shift, I took a hot shower, sat on my couch, and decided to call a certain number I’d been given. Guess what happened?”

I winced. “Beats me. What happened?”

I know exactly what she means, but let’s see if I can avoid this situation.

“This old nice lady told me to go suck a cactus and never call again,” she said on hand on her hip. “Apparently, I was calling the wrong number. The entire time. But that’s not possible, because the number is from you. So.”

Okay, let me clear this up. After I left the vet that day, she did ask for my number, which I did give her, but I intentionally misplaced a number or two. [Check chapter 13]

I rubbed the back of my neck, sheepishly. “Okay, that might’ve been… an honest mistake.”

Her eyes narrowed, though there was amusement dancing there. “Max. Why did you give me the wrong number?”

Crap. She’s onto me.

“I didn’t!” I said, holding my hands up. “I swear I gave you the real number. Maybe you wrote it down wrong?”

Nicole arched a brow. “You know if you didn’t want to give me your number, you could have just said so.”

Fuck. Now I feel guilty.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want her to have my number, it’s just I haven’t always had the best track record with female friendships, especially while I am dating someone. I either fall for the girl and ruin my relationship or my girlfriend gets jealous and ruins my relationship.

Either way, it always ends with me listening to Taylor Swift's playlists for weeks and singing out loud in the shower to the much annoyance of Daphne.

She rolled her eyes and walked off with a swish of her scrubs, but not before tossing over her shoulder.

I stood in that hallway like a stunned extra in a romcom, wondering how one woman could make me feel like I’d just won and lost at the same time. Like a statue, I was transfixed to the floor, internally screaming.

Great, just when we were becoming friends.

But it's better this way.

Naturally, after that whole medical misadventure, I realized Lucy and the kittens couldn’t stay in the apartment anymore. Not unless I wanted another accidental exorcism.

So, being the responsible and definitely not desperate person I am, I started looking for temporary cat-sitters. The list was... short.

.

 Option 1: Stephen. 

That jackass.

Pros: None.

Cons: Would probably forget to feed them. Would teach them bad habits. Would somehow use them as props for one of his dumb TikToks.

 Option 2: Susan, the office assistant.

Pros: Literally perfect. Already has two cats. Loves animals. Responsible.

Cons: Starting a month-long leave. Traveling to visit her dad. 

How dare she have a life?

She told me to leave them at the vet like she did. Which—okay, sure. Logical. Sensible. But also expensive. And Lucy and her demon spawn (I say this with love) do not belong in some sterile, weird-smelling place. They belong in a home.

Which brings me to the last person on my list.

Option 3: Serena.

Pros: Good with animals. Trustworthy. A very normal, not at all weird old crush of mine. Beautiful. Great smile...

Cons: NONE. Except that I had to actually talk to her.

So, here I am. On my one day off—Sunday—working up the courage to call her. Like a sane, functioning adult.

I checked my phone. She was late.

She usually finishes with her last client by 2 PM.

Not that I check her schedule, I’m just a really observant person.

I stared at my phone. 2:02 PM

I could scrap this plan and just call her.

To be continued.....