The garden was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun. Flowers swayed gently in the breeze, and the faint hum of the city felt distant here. Mark Keifer Watson's grandfather had come to the garden for a walk, hoping to clear his mind after the morning's incident.
And there she was.
Jay, seated on a bench, reviewing medical notes. The same young surgeon who had helped him earlier, calm and precise, exuding that rare combination of focus and authority that had left him awed.
He approached slowly, not wanting to startle her. "Ah… it's you again," he said, voice gentle.
Jay looked up, finally noticing him. "Oh! Mr. Watson, I didn't expect to see you here again."
"I… suppose I have a habit of running into the extraordinary," he said with a soft chuckle. Then, hesitating, he added, "You… didn't tell me your name yesterday."
Jay smiled faintly. "I'm Jay. Jay Mariano."
"Jay…" he repeated, savoring the sound. "Yes… that suits you." His eyes softened, a rare warmth showing. "Thank you again… for helping me. I was… quite unsteady."
"Anytime," Jay said, her voice calm, professional, yet not without subtle kindness. "I hope you're feeling better now."
"I am," he said, settling onto a nearby bench. "But I must admit… your composure is remarkable. Calm, precise… I've never met anyone like you. And I feel… compelled to see you again."
The old man leaned back, still smiling. "Keifer… he must meet you," he muttered softly to himself, though his thoughts drifted to his grandson. "He will want to know the surgeon who handled me so… effortlessly."
Jay glanced down at her notes again, unaware of the undercurrent of significance in his words. "Well, I should get back. Work doesn't wait."
"Of course, of course," he said, rising slowly. "But now I know your name, Jay Mariano. And I will not forget it."
As she walked away, he watched her disappear among the trees, a thought lingering: She is extraordinary. My grandson will need to meet her… and soon.