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Mel King never liked Valentine’s Day.
All the romance of the day made her feel sick, seriously.
Or maybe she didn’t like that day, because she didn’t spend it properly.
But there were also some positives that day. There were lots of colorful mugs in the stores that she loved to collect, and the next day there were discounts on flower bouquets. She bought them and together with her sister, Becca, made their own bouquets.
Usually, she spent the day with Becca. They ordered a lot of food to their apartment and watched their favorite romantic comedies. Mel and Becca were having a typical sisters’ evening. Just the two of them. No boys.
But this year was different.
Becca had been asked out on a date by a guy from the care facility she was staying at while Mel worked at PTMC. His name was Mazey, and apparently he’d been “very charming,” according to Becca. So yeah, he seemed like a nice guy.
Mel noticed the change months ago. The way Becca casually mentioned him a little too often. The way her voice lifted when his name came up. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out–Becca had a crush!
Even the Valentine’s Day atmosphere was felt by the doctors, staff and patients, especially the patients. On normal days, patients come in with all sorts of symptoms and injuries, but on holidays like the Fourth of July or Valentine’s Day, they outdo themselves. She didn’t even want to remember the cases she’d gotten. Sometimes she wondered why people were so crazy.
Frank Langdon loved Valentine’s Day.
Until he got divorced.
To him, it was just a date on the calendar.
But not today.
Today he wanted to spend it differently.
Earlier that day, he had secretly slipped a Valentine’s Day card into Melissa King’s locker that read, “Meet me at seven. You know where.” When Mel saw the card, was a bit confused. But she noticed the handwriting. The soft curves. The deliberate swirls at the end of certain letters. Handwriting she had seen countless times on sticky notes left at the nurses’ station. Handwriting she knew all too well.
Mel spent the rest of her shift distracted, her thoughts returning to the card no matter how hard she tried to focus. Every time she passed Frank Langdon in the hallway, she wondered if he was acting differently. If he was avoiding her. If he was waiting for her to say something.
No one knew that Mel King and Frank Langdon were secretly in love with each other.
Not even the nurses who watched them work side by side with effortless synchronicity, not the other residents who noticed the way Dr. Langdon always acted when Mel showed up, not even Becca, who knew her sister better than anyone.
Mel crossed the street toward the small park near the hospital. She told herself she was only going there to confirm what she already suspected. To stop her mind from racing.
The park was quiet, the paths nearly empty, the bare trees casting long shadows under the streetlamps. That was their place. The bench where drank their late-night coffees. The spot where they sat after heavy shifts, too tired to speak, comfortable in the silence.
She stopped near the bench and checked her watch.
Seven o’clock.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then she heard footsteps behind her–steady, familiar.
She didn’t turn right away. She didn’t have to.
Somehow, she already knew.
Frank Langdon stood a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. The streetlight caught the familiar lines of his face, tired blue eyes she knew so well. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Hi, Mel,” he said quietly.
“Doctor Langdon,” she answered, just as softly.
An awkward pause settled between them, not uncomfortable.
“So, you picked our place,” she said, glancing around. “I was wondering where I was supposed to meet my mysterious admirer.”
He huffed out a small breath, something close to a laugh. “I figured it was safer than the hospital. Less… interruptions.”
“Fair.”
Another pause.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Frank admitted, his gaze fixed somewhere just over her shoulder.
Mel crossed her arms, more to keep her hands busy than to protect herself from the February cold. “Neither was I. But we’re here!”
That brought a small smile to his face. One he didn’t use often. But one he reserved especially for her.
But Melissa noticed it.
“I don’t see it very often.” Mel said lightly.
Frank looked a little caught off guard. “Yeah. Well. I guess you bring it out.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”
“Yeah,” he said, without hesitation. Then, as if realizing what he’d just admitted, he cleared his throat. “I mean…”
She smiled before he could talk himself out of it. “It’s okay.”
They stood in silence for another moment.
“So,” Mel said. “Is this the part where you explain the card?”
“ I…” Frank nodded once. “I thought we could… walk. If that’s okay.”
“Walk where?”
“Nowhere specific,” he said. “Just away from the hospital.”
She considered it, then shrugged. “Yeah.”
They started down the path. The city felt softer from there, less sharp, less loud.
“I didn’t have a whole plan,” Frank admitted after a minute. “Just didn’t want tonight to feel like… every other night.”
“So, you had a plan?” Mel asked.
He glanced at her. “Exactly.”
Melissa smiled, a little. “I guess I should’ve expected that,” she said.
Frank laughed softly. “Or maybe I just overthink everything that involves you.”
Melissa felt her chest tighten, but she forced herself to keep walking. “That sounds suspiciously, like a compliment.”
“Maybe it is,” he said.
She shook her head, laughing quietly.
They fell into a comfortable rhythm. The streetlamps cast long, warm pools of light, and the cold air made Mel wish she had remembered gloves. Not that it mattered much. Frank’s presence somehow made the chill easier to bear.
They walked for a while without speaking, the kind of silence that didn’t demand to be filled. Melissa listened to the soft crunch of gravel beneath their shoes, to the distant hum of traffic, to the steady rhythm of Frank’s breathing beside her. She was acutely aware of how close he was, but not quite touching. It felt intentional. Careful.
“So,” she said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “You said you didn’t want tonight to feel like every other night, right?”
Frank nodded. “Yeah.”
“And?”
“And…” He gave a small, lopsided smile. “I thought we could go somewhere. A few places you like.”
“Adventure?” She said. “And how do you know exactly what places I like, huh?”
Frank let out a quiet breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. “I pay attention,” he said simply.
He stepped closer to her and gently took her hands. Mel’s face immediately flushed. She could always blame it on the weather or something.
Mel’s breath hitched slightly at the warmth of his hands. “You… you really know how to make someone feel noticed,” she said softly, trying to sound casual, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
“Not on purpose. I just notice things. About you. About the little things you like.”
Mel glanced down at their joined hands, then back up at him, caught between amusement and a fluttering, unfamiliar excitement. “Okay,” she said quietly. “And where exactly are we going on this… adventure?”
“First, there’s a small movie theater. Just few streets from here.”
Melissa laughed softly. “That sounds very on brand for you.”
“They’re doing a special Valentine’s Day screening.”
“Oh, okay. And?”
“And… They’re playing a Disney movie,” he said, almost cautiously, as if bracing for her reaction.
Her eyebrows shot up. “A Disney movie?”
He let out a quiet sigh. “Yeah. I remember you saying you like the classics. Especially The Lion King.”
Melissa stared at him for a second longer than necessary. “You remembered that?”
“I remember more than you probably think,” he said, shrugging lightly.
Her smile was immediate and unguarded. “Okay,” she said. “You’ve got my attention.”
The theater was small and warm, decorated with paper hearts taped a little crookedly to the walls. Inside, few couples whispered and laughed softly, the smell of popcorn filling the air. They found seats near the back. When the lights dimmed and the opening music started, Melissa felt herself relax in a way she hadn’t all day.
Halfway through the movie, she realized that Frank was watching her more than the screen.
“What?” she whispered, amused.
“Nothing,” he murmured back. “Just making sure you’re enjoying it.”
The music swelled softly through the theater, familiar and comforting, and Melissa felt herself sink into the seat. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been all day until that moment. Until the lights dimmed and the world narrowed to a glowing screen and Frank’s presence beside her.
At some point, without either of them really deciding to do it, their arms settled against each other more firmly. Not an accident anymore. Langdon’s sleeve brushed her wrist, warm through the fabric, grounding. Mel’s fingers curled slightly against the armrest, resisting the instinct to reach for him outright.
She let herself smile at the movie, at the memories it stirred–watching it as a kid, rewinding her favorite scenes. It felt strange, in the best way, to be here now. With him. With Frank Langdon.
When the credits finally rolled and the lights came on, Melissa blinked, momentarily disoriented, like she’d been pulled gently out of a dream.
“That was…” she started, then stopped, searching for the right word.
Frank tilted his head, watching her carefully. “Good?” he offered.
She laughed softly. “Yeah.”
“I saw that you were very moved,” Langdon said.
“Frank, who wouldn’t be moved when little Simba sees the dead Mufasa?” Mel answered. “Or the scene where Simba and Nala meet after many years and Can You Feel The Love Tonight plays, huh?”
Langdon liked when she got a little indignant.
He smiled, that same soft smile, and stood, offering his hand without thinking about it. She took it just as easily.
Outside, the night had deepened. The cold bit a little sharper now, and Melissa instinctively tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat–only to pause when she felt Frank’s hand brush against hers again.
“You cold?” he asked.
“A little.”
He didn’t make a big deal out of it. Just reached out and laced his fingers through hers, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they’d done it a hundred times before.
She glanced up at him, heart doing something stupid and fast. “You’re setting expectations,” she teased. “Disney movies? Hand-holding? Next thing I know, I’ll start liking Valentine’s Day.”
“Would that be so bad?”
Mel thought about it. About the warmth, the quiet joy of the evening, the way she felt seen in a way she hadn’t let herself want before.
“Maybe not,” she admitted.
They walked slowly, unhurried, past closed shops and dimly lit windows.
“There’s one more place,” he said. “If you’re not tired.”
“I’m not tired,” she smiled up at him.
“Are you sure?”
Mel nodded. “Lead the way, Dr. Langdon.”
Frank led her down a quieter side street, the kind lined with old brick buildings and small shops that looked like they’d been there forever. Mel recognized the place almost immediately.
“Oh, really?” she said, slowing. “You did not.”
He glanced at her, clearly pleased with himself. “I did.”
The bookstore was on the corner of the street, its front window glowing warmly against the night. Handwritten signs were taped to the glass and a few strings of fairy lights were tangled lazily along the frame.
Mel laughed to herself. “I can’t believe you remembered that too.”
“Every time we go out together, or with your sister, we pass this place,” Frank said. “And every time you stop and stare, like you’re trying to memorize all of the books through the window.”
Mel tried to defend herself.
Inside, the air smelled of paper, coffee, and something sweet. It was quiet, cozy, the kind of place that makes you lower your voice without even realizing it. Mel briefly slipped her hand from Frank’s and walked over to the table piled with old books, running her fingers along the spines, reading titles under her breath, brushing over embossed letters and cracked leather bindings like she was greeting old friends.
Frank looked at her with a fond, almost reverent expression. He looked at her the same way he did the day they met. Mel felt completely at home here. Relaxed, curious, eyes twinkling as she picked up one book, then another one.
“This one’s good,” she said, holding one up. “But it’s absolutely devastating emotionally.”
“I've made a note,” Langdon replied.
She snorted. “Coward.”
They drifted through the aisles slowly. Frank picked up a book from the medical history section, flipping through it absently, while Mel crouched near the lower shelves, scanning titles like she was on a mission. At one point, she straightened abruptly and nearly ran into him.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“Mel? You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling softly. “This is just…”
Something flickered in his expression. Some kind of relief, maybe. Or something warmer.
At the counter, Frank paid for two books before she could protest. One for him. One for her.
“You didn’t have to.”
“But I wanted,” he said simply.
Outside again, the night felt a little less cold, like the city itself had softened. Melissa stuffed the book into her bag, and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
“So what’s next?” she asked. “You’ve already exceeded my expectations.”
He hesitated, then nodded down the another street. “There’s a boba place nearby. If they haven’t closed it down yet.” Frank checked the time on his phone. “Well, if we hurry, we’ll definitely make it in time.”
Mel’s face lit up. “I love boba!” She laughed, genuinely this time.
Mel and Frank were lucky. When they arrived, slightly out of breath from walking faster than they’d admit, discovered they were the last customers served. The boba place was cozy and bright, calm music humming softly in the background. They stood close while they waited for their drinks, shoulders brushing.
When they left, Melissa took her first sip, she sighed in contentment.
“Okay,” she said. “This might officially be the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.”
Frank didn’t answer immediately. He simply looked at her over the rim of his cup, a thoughtful expression on his face. The streetlights reflected faintly in his eyes, and for a moment, Mel had the strange feeling that he was memorizing her face, as if he wanted to capture this moment exactly as it was.
“Yeah,” he said again, quieter this time. “I’m glad.”
They walked on slowly, side by side. Melissa hugged her coat closer around herself, not entirely because of the cold. There was something in the air now–an awareness, a tension that hadn’t been there earlier.
“You’re being suspiciously quiet,” she said, glancing up at him. “That usually means you’re thinking about something.”
He let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “You know me too well.”
“That’s never been a secret,” she replied.
They stopped near a small clearing, where the path widened and the streetlight overhead cast a warm circle on the ground. Frank slowed, then turned to face her fully instead of continuing on. Mel followed his movement, her heart giving a small, nervous kick.
“Mel,” he said.
The way he said her name made her chest tighten. “Yes, Frank?”
He looked at her softly. With love. He had been waiting so long to finally tell her.
I love you, he thought.
These are just three words that he used to say often.
“There’s something I’ve been trying to tell you for a long time,” he began. His voice was calm, but she could see the tension on his face, the way he shifted his weight as if he were bracing himself.
She didn’t interrupt. She just waited.
“Mel,” he said again, softer this time. “ I think…” whispered. “I think I love you.”
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause around them.
Mel didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. She just looked at him, really looked–at the familiar lines of his face, the vulnerability in his eyes.
Frank swallowed, his jaw tightening slightly. “I know I’m not always good at saying this out loud,” he continued quietly. “But I couldn’t pretend it was anything other than what it was.” His gaze shifted for half a second, then returned to her, calm despite his nervousness. “You matter to me, Mel King.”
Her chest ached in the best, most overwhelming way.
“Frank,” she said softly, his name more of an exhale than a word. She reached out before she even realized she was doing it, her fingers curling gently around the sleeve of his jacket, grounding both of them. “I’m…” For the first time in a long time Mel didn’t know what to say.
He looked at her, really looked, hope and fear tangled together.
She shook her head, a small laugh slipping out, shaky but warm. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, it almost feels ridiculous now. I just…” Mel sighted.
His expression softened instantly, relief washing over his face. “I see you,” he said without hesitation. “I always have.”
Mel’s eyes stung, and she blinked rapidly, smiling despite it.
They stood there for a moment, close enough now that she could feel his warmth, and the silent attraction between them was undeniable. Frank lifted his hand slowly, giving her time, always careful. When his fingers brushed her cheek, she leaned into the touch instinctively.
“Can I…?” he asked softly. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her gently at first, as if he were afraid that any sudden movement might break the moment. His hand came up slowly, warm and steady, resting at her waist, thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of her coat. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t demanding. Just a soft, careful press of his lips to hers, like a promise he had been holding onto for far too long.
Mel’s breath caught, her hands instinctively finding the front of his jacket, fingers curling there as if to anchor herself. She tilted her head up, rising slightly onto her toes without even realizing it, closing the small space. Frank noticed immediately, a quiet sound escaping him as he adjusted, lowering himself just a bit more, making sure she didn’t have to strain to reach him.
The kiss deepened slowly, as if it had been waiting for them all along. His lips moved against hers with a tenderness that made her chest ache, unhurried and full, carrying everything they’d never said out loud–the shared looks across crowded rooms, the comfort of knowing exactly what the other needed without asking. His hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer, protective and sure.
Melissa relaxed into him, the world narrowing to the warmth of his body and the steady way he held her, like this was where she always belonged. One of her hands slipped higher, fingers brushing his collar, then resting against his neck, feeling the heat of his skin there. The other stayed clenched in his jacket, unwilling to let go.
When they finally pulled apart, it was only by inches. Frank rested his forehead against hers, still slightly bent, his breath warm against her cheek. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.
Their eyes met–soft, bright, a little overwhelmed–and they both smiled, breathless in the same way, like they’d just crossed a line they could never go back from.
”Well,” Mel murmured, “I guess that officially makes Valentine’s Day bearable.”
Frank chuckled, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “High praise.”
“I’m serious. This,” Mel gestured between them, “is more than I expected from tonight. I thought I’d spend it differently, and...”
“Good. Because I was hoping this could be the beginning of something.”
Mel’s smile softened, something warm and certain settling in her chest. “I’d like that,” she said. “A lot.”
“Then let’s stop pretending,” he said. “No more almost. No more ‘what if’.”
She didn’t say anything.
Langdon sighed. “I’m asking you to let me love you out loud.”
“Okay,” she said.
Just that.
Okay.
And somehow it felt bigger than any grand speech.
He leaned down and kissed her again. Not careful now, not cautious. Still tender, still warm, but sure. Like he wasn’t afraid of breaking the moment anymore.
When they pulled back, she was smiling in that open, unguarded way he’d fallen in love with long before he admitted it to himself.
“Next year,” Mel said, sinking her hand into his hair, “we’re not doing shifts on Valentine’s Day.”
“Next year,” he agreed, “I’m booking the entire day in advance.”
“For what?”
“For whatever you want.”
She laughed, shaking her head, but she didn’t look away from him.
And as they stood there under the streetlight. Book tucked in her bag, empty boba cup forgotten in his hand, the city humming quietly around them. She realized something that felt almost absurd in its simplicity.
Mel King didn’t hate Valentine’s Day.
She had just been waiting for the right person to spend it with.
And this time, she had.