Incision of the Heart ?

The glass-walled study lounge at Johns Hopkins Hospital offered a panoramic view of Baltimore’s skyline.

The room was a symphony of clicking pens, flipping pages, and the occasional muted murmur of conversation as students like Emily and Liam wrapped up the last remnants of their summer shadowing program.

Yet, for Emily, the view wasn’t outside the window.

It was sitting across from her, with his sleeves rolled up and brows furrowed as he scribbled notes on a yellow legal pad.

“Liam, you’re overthinking it,” Emily said, her voice soft but insistent.

She reached across the table, tugging gently at the corner of his pad.

He glanced up, his green eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and amusement. “Easy for you to say. You’re natural at this stuff.”

“Because I practice,” she countered, leaning back in her chair with a knowing smile. “Which is exactly what we’re doing now. So, let me be your Harvard interview prep guru.”

Liam snorted, tossing his pen onto the table. “A guru, huh? What’s the first step, oh wise one?”

Emily grinned, savoring his rare admission of needing help. “Step one: stop sounding like you’ve memorized every medical journal ever published.”

“Hey, I like to be thorough,” he said, feigning indignation.

“And that’s why you sound like a robot,” Emily teased, flipping through his meticulously written answers. “‘What inspired you to pursue medicine?’ Liam: ‘My fascination with the intricacies of the human body began at age eight when I dissected my first frog.’ Really?”

“It’s true!” he protested, his laugh breaking through his faux seriousness.

“But it’s boring,” Emily said, tilting her head thoughtfully. “They want to know you, not just your résumé.”

Liam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get it, but it’s hard to strike that balance. I don’t want to sound unprepared.”

“You won’t,” Emily said, her voice softening. “You’ve worked so hard to get here, Liam. You just need to trust yourself a little more.”

His gaze lingered on her, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You always know what to say.”

Emily shrugged, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up her neck. “That’s because I’ve been in your shoes. The nerves, the self-doubt...it’s all part of the process. But if anyone deserves to be at Harvard Med, it’s you.”

Liam didn’t respond immediately.

Instead, he reached across the table, covering her hand with his. “Thank you.”

For a moment, the study lounge seemed to shrink around them, the bustle of other students fading into the background.

Emily felt her pulse quicken, but she didn’t pull away.

“Okay,” she said, breaking the spell. “Enough mushy stuff. Let’s get to work.”

“Bossy,” Liam said, though his smirk betrayed no real complaint.

“I prefer ‘motivational,’” Emily retorted, sliding a mock interview script toward him.

The next hour was a whirlwind of role-playing, with Emily grilling Liam on everything from his leadership experiences to his opinion on healthcare reform.

“What would you say is your greatest weakness?” Emily asked, her tone sharp and professional.

Liam leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I care too much,” he deadpanned.