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At the hospital, everyone agreed on one thing:
No one understood how Santos and Garcia could possibly be together.
Not a single person.
Not because they hid their relationship. Everyone knew it existed.
People simply could not make sense of it.
“I don’t get it,” Cassie muttered one morning while reviewing some notes.
“Neither do I,” Samira agreed.
Perlah raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve been trying to figure it out for two years.”
Princess nodded.
“And every time I think I understand, I end up even more confused.”
Dana laughed.
“That’s because you haven’t seen them argue about coffee.”
“Argue?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“About coffee?”
“A full fifteen minutes.”
Robby appeared behind them.
“Why are you all wasting time talking?”
Everyone immediately returned to work.
Except Santos.
Because Santos had just walked in.
“Because apparently we don’t have enough patients to keep us entertained.”
“Santos.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t start.”
“You started.”
“You answered.”
“And you answered again.”
Dana closed her eyes.
“There they go.”
Santos smiled.
Robby walked away grumbling.
She returned to what she had been doing as though nothing had happened.
“See?” Samira said.
“What?”
“That.”
“That what?”
“Who can put up with that all day?”
“Garcia,” Dana answered.
And it was true.
Because if there was one person immune to Santos’s sarcasm, it was Garcia.
⸻
Santos herself didn’t help matters.
She was ambitious.
Competitive.
Stubborn beyond reason.
And she possessed a supernatural ability to annoy virtually anyone in less than thirty seconds.
Dennis claimed she could start an argument with a wall.
And the wall would probably lose.
That morning they were reviewing supplies when Santos spotted a blue marker.
“Whitaker.”
“What?”
“Did you use my marker?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I didn’t.”
“It’s literally in your hand.”
Dennis looked at the marker.
“It’s mine.”
“You bought the same one as me.”
“It came in a pack.”
“You copy me.”
“Obviously.”
“Obsessed.”
“Completely.”
“That’s disturbing.”
“Terrifying.”
Santos looked pleased with herself.
Dennis continued writing.
Neither of them seemed annoyed.
That was simply how they communicated.
Emma watched the exchange in total confusion.
“Are they always like this?”
Mateo, who had arrived for the shift change, answered:
“Worse.”
“And they don’t hate each other?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“No one knows.”
⸻
The same thing applied to Santos and Garcia.
They never showed affection at work.
Ever.
No hand-holding.
No hugs.
No romantic messages.
Nothing.
If someone didn’t know they were together, they might assume they barely knew each other.
Even when Garcia came down for a quick consultation.
“I have five minutes,” Garcia announced.
“What a miracle.”
“What do you need?”
“Your brilliant brain.”
“Difficult to work with so little time.”
“Difficult to work with you all the time.”
“And yet here you are.”
“Unfortunately.”
They always sounded as though they were arguing.
Always.
Yet they solved the medical problem in three minutes and moved on.
No drama.
No tension.
Nothing.
Which only confused everyone even more.
⸻
One afternoon, Perlah accidentally discovered something.
And it marked the beginning of the great revelation.
It started because Santos was busy.
Strangely busy.
Too busy.
She wasn’t teasing Robby.
She wasn’t arguing with Whitaker.
She wasn’t bothering Samira.
She wasn’t even using Talago to gossip.
She was simply working.
Focused.
Quiet.
Which was deeply unsettling.
“Is she sick?” Princess asked.
“Possibly,” Perlah replied.
At that moment, a message appeared on Santos’s phone.
She read it.
And smiled.
A small smile.
Different.
Not sarcastic.
Not mocking.
Real.
Perlah managed to see one word before the screen disappeared.
“Garcia.”
Nothing else.
But Santos’s entire expression changed.
And that was enough to awaken everyone’s curiosity.
⸻
That same week, another strange thing happened.
Garcia came down for a consultation.
Everything was normal.
Until Santos disappeared for ten minutes.
Ten minutes.
When she came back, she was carrying a bag of food.
She left it on a table.
Then continued working.
“What is that?” Cassie asked.
“Food.”
“Thank you for the scientific explanation.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Who is it for?”
“No one.”
“Santos.”
“What?”
“Who is it for?”
“No one.”
At that exact moment, Garcia appeared.
Picked up the bag.
And left.
Without saying a word.
Santos didn’t say anything either.
She simply continued working.
The entire room fell silent.
⸻
“She brought her food?” Emma asked.
“Yes.”
“And that was it?”
“Yes.”
“They didn’t even say thank you?”
“No.”
“What kind of relationship is that?”
Nobody had an answer.
⸻
The weeks passed.
And little by little people began noticing things.
Small things.
Details.
For example:
Garcia always knew where Santos was.
Even when nobody told her.
And Santos always knew when Garcia had been awake for too many hours.
One day Garcia looked especially exhausted.
Nobody said anything.
Nobody except Santos.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“You look like a corpse.”
“Very kind.”
“Did you sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
“Don’t start.”
“You slept two hours.”
“Three.”
“I knew it.”
Then she went back to work.
As though nothing had happened.
⸻
Another day it was the opposite.
Santos had endured a terrible shift.
Patients everywhere.
Calls.
Consultations.
Chaos.
By late morning she was exhausted.
She wouldn’t admit it.
But everyone could see it.
Then Garcia appeared.
Set a coffee beside her.
And kept walking.
She didn’t even stop.
Santos picked it up.
Took a sip.
And continued working.
Without thanking her.
Without commenting.
As though it were completely normal.
Because it was.
⸻
Slowly, everyone else began to understand something.
They weren’t people who displayed affection publicly.
They didn’t need to prove anything.
They simply knew each other too well.
⸻
The final confirmation came on a Friday.
A horrible Friday.
Chaotic.
One of those days that seemed determined never to end.
Santos had been running nonstop for hours.
Robby was in a bad mood.
Cassie was too.
Dana was coordinating multiple problems at once.
And everyone was tired.
Especially Santos.
She kept working.
But she was irritated.
Very irritated.
And when Santos became irritated, it was wise to keep a safe distance.
“Whitaker.”
“What?”
“You breathe too loudly.”
“I’m breathing.”
“Do it more quietly.”
“That’s not how breathing works.”
“Then stop.”
“I need oxygen.”
“Excuses.”
Dennis laughed.
⸻
Half an hour later, Garcia arrived.
She observed the situation for exactly twenty seconds.
Then she said:
“Santos.”
“What?”
“Come here.”
“I’m busy.”
“Now.”
“No.”
“Now.”
“No.”
“Santos.”
“…”
The entire department watched.
Because nobody talked to Santos like that.
Nobody.
Except Garcia.
Finally, Santos sighed.
“Five minutes.”
“Perfect.”
They left.
⸻
When they returned ten minutes later, Santos seemed like a different person.
Still sarcastic.
Still Santos.
But no longer on the verge of declaring war on the world.
“What did you do?” Samira asked.
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“We talked.”
“And that’s it?”
“Yes.”
“That explains absolutely nothing.”
“I rarely explain anything.”
⸻
That night, during shift change, the rumors started again.
Mateo listened with amusement.
John did too.
Parker shook his head.
“I don’t understand how they work.”
“No one does,” Mateo replied.
“Maybe they don’t either.”
⸻
They were wrong.
Because they did work.
And they worked precisely because they were different.
⸻
The ultimate proof came a few weeks later.
An informal gathering had formed at a nearby café.
Nothing fancy.
Nothing official.
And by sheer coincidence, almost everyone showed up.
Santos arrived late.
Garcia did too.
They sat at opposite ends of the table.
Not even together.
Which only fueled the theories.
Until a ridiculous debate started.
A debate about the greatest movie of all time.
Opinions flew back and forth.
Voices grew louder.
Eventually everyone was talking at once.
Everyone except Santos.
And Garcia.
Who sat watching the chaos.
“This is unbearable,” Garcia said.
“Completely,” Santos agreed.
“Why did we come?”
“No idea.”
“We should’ve stayed home.”
“Definitely.”
They looked at each other.
And burst out laughing.
A genuine laugh.
Natural.
Instant.
As if they shared a secret language.
And at that moment, everyone understood.
Not because they were alike.
Because they weren’t.
Not even close.
Santos was fire.
Garcia was control.
Santos reacted.
Garcia analyzed.
Santos argued for sport.
Garcia argued because she intended to win.
Santos was organized chaos.
Garcia was dangerous order.
And that was exactly why they worked.
Each of them understood what everyone else failed to see.
⸻
Later, when the gathering ended, the group walked out into the parking lot.
The conversation continued.
So did the jokes.
And while everyone was talking, Perlah noticed something.
Something small.
Something most people would have missed.
Santos was walking ahead.
Garcia was behind her.
Not touching.
Not seeking attention.
No dramatic gestures.
But when Santos stumbled slightly on a crack in the pavement, Garcia instinctively reached out a hand.
She didn’t even look at her.
She didn’t think about it.
She simply reacted.
And Santos did exactly the same thing a second later when a car passed a little too close.
An automatic movement.
Instinctive.
Protecting each other.
As naturally as breathing.
⸻
Perlah smiled.
Princess did too.
Dana watched the scene.
Then glanced at Robby.
“They finally get it.”
“Get what?”
“Why they’re together.”
Robby watched for a few moments.
Then nodded.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“It makes sense.”
“Since when?”
“Since I realized Garcia is the only person capable of shutting Santos up.”
Dana laughed.
“That certainly helps.”
“A lot.”
⸻
Meanwhile, Santos and Garcia were already heading toward the car.
Arguing.
Of course.
“You took the longer route.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Stubborn.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“I can’t. It’s too dark.”
“How convenient.”
“I know.”
And they laughed again.
Because that was who they were.
And because, in the end, it didn’t matter whether anyone else understood their relationship.
They understood it.
And that was more than enough.
The End.