Page 52 of Dr. Lillian Harrington
Rebecca was beside her in an instant, pushing her aside without hesitation. “Get out of my way. I’ll fix it,” Rebecca’s voice was like ice, cutting through Lillian’s haze of panic.
Lillian stepped back, her hands numb, her heart pounding in her chest. She watched in stunned silence as Rebecca’s hands worked with swift precision, controlling the bleeding and stabilizing the patient. The room, once filled with chaos, began to settle under Rebecca’s firm command, but Lillian could barely hear it over the roaring in her ears.
Everything had gone wrong in a matter of seconds, and Lillian stood there, frozen, as the weight of her mistake crushed down on her.
The patient’s vitals stabilized. The bleeding was under control, and the once chaotic operating room returned to an eerie stillness. But the tension hadn’t dissipated; it had only shifted. The air was thick, almost suffocating. Lillian stood frozen, watching Rebecca as she finished the last crucial steps to save the patient, her hands moving with precise efficiency. Lillian’s own hands trembled at her sides, the weight of her mistake crushing her, threatening to collapse everything inside her.
Once everything was secured, Rebecca finally looked up. Her eyes met Lillian’s, and in that moment, Lillian knew it was coming. The calm before the storm.
“That was a catastrophic mistake,” Rebecca said, her voice cold, cutting through the silence like a blade. Her tone wasn’t the calm professionalism that typically defined her. It was sharper. Harsher. “You could’ve killed this patient because you weren’t focused.”
Lillian felt the eyes of the entire surgical team on her—watching, waiting. Her chest tightened, and her mouth went dry. “I…I was trying my best. I didn’t mean?—”
Rebecca cut her off sharply. “Your best? Clearly, your best isn’t good enough. You don’t belong here if you can’t handle the pressure.”
Lillian’s heart sank. It wasn’t just the words. It was the way Rebecca delivered them, like they were meant to slice her apart. She stood there, exposed and raw, in front of everyone. She tried to steady her breathing, to push back the tears that threatened to spill over. This was her worst nightmare. She had failed. She had failed Rebecca.
Rebecca wasn’t done. Her words became more venomous, laced with something personal that only Lillian could fully grasp. The shift was subtle, but the sting was deep. “You think trying hard is enough? In surgery, there’s no room for error. Maybe you should spend more time learning how to operate and less time...with distractions.”
The words landed like a punch to Lillian’s gut. She felt her breath catch. There it was—the personal jab. The reminder that, despite everything between them, Rebecca wasn’t going to shield her from professional consequences. Lillian had never expected special treatment, but the way Rebecca said distractions, it was a low blow. One that hit Lillian harder than she could have imagined.
Her throat tightened, and she could barely form words, the lump in her throat suffocating her. She tried to explain, tried to salvage something, anything. “I...I’m sorry. I didn’t?—”
Rebecca’s voice was ice-cold. “Sorry isn’t enough in this room. You need to be better or you shouldn’t be here at all.”
Lillian’s world shattered. The room seemed to spin as her vision blurred, the humiliation and pain overwhelming her. She could feel the eyes of the team on her, judging her, watching as Rebecca tore her down. They weren’t just seeing her as a failing surgeon; they were seeing her fall apart, personally and professionally.
She couldn’t stay there any longer. She had to get out before the tears spilled or the trembling in her hands turned into a full-blown collapse. Without another word, Lillian turned and walked out of the OR, her heart racing, her mind reeling.
The hallways outside were a blur, her thoughts swirling in a torrent of shame and disbelief.I failed. I failed Rebecca, I failed myself.The words echoed in her head. How could she say that? How could she do that in front of everyone?
She kept walking, her chest tight, the sting of Rebecca’s words burning in her ears. But more than anything, it was the personal attack that cut the deepest. She had tried her best. She had wanted to prove herself. But in the end, she hadn’t just lost Rebecca’s respect; she had lost a part of herself.
Lillian burst through the doors of the operating room and into the corridor, her breath ragged and uneven. The sterile smell of the hospital hit her, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging inside her. Her heart pounded in her chest, the steady rhythm from the OR replaced by a relentless, panicked beat that echoed in her ears. She stumbled forward, her vision blurring as tears threatened to spill. She needed to get away—to escape the weight of Rebecca’s words, the coldness in her voice, and the eyes of the team that had seen her break apart.
She found herself in an empty corridor, her back pressed against the cold wall. Lillian slumped down, her hands trembling as they reached for something to hold onto, but there was nothing. Just the hard, unyielding reality of what had just happened. Tears stung her eyes, and this time, she couldn’t hold them back. They spilled over, hot and fast, streaking down her cheeks as the crushing weight of her failure bore down on her.
She had tried so hard to live up to Rebecca’s expectations. To prove herself, not just as a surgeon but as someone worthy of Rebecca’s trust. And now...now it all felt shattered. The mistake in the OR, the blood, the alarms—it played over and over in her mind like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.
“How can she think so little of me?” Lillian’s thoughts spiraled, her chest tightening as the tears continued to fall. “I thought we were more.” But Rebecca’s words had been so cold, so sharp. It was as if everything between them, every moment of vulnerability, had meant nothing.
The hall was empty, and in that silence, the echoes of Rebecca’s harsh reprimand rang louder in her ears. Lillianhugged her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms, trying to block out the humiliation and disappointment. But she couldn’t escape it. The truth was unavoidable: She had failed, and not just professionally. She had failed Rebecca.
She felt the weight of the entire situation pressing down on her. The fragile bond they had shared, the connection that had once felt so strong—now it felt like it had been severed. Rebecca’s words weren’t just a critique of her surgical performance; they had cut deeper, tearing into the core of their relationship, exposing the fragility of it all.
“Does she even care?” Lillian whispered, her voice barely audible. She had never felt so lost, so alone. The pressure of being a Harrington and being under Rebecca’s guidance had always been immense, but this—this was something else entirely.
It wasn’t just the surgery that had gone wrong. It was everything. The walls she had built to protect herself, the confidence she had carefully nurtured—they all crumbled in that moment. And now, sitting in the empty hallway, Lillian felt utterly broken.
The realization hit her like a wave, suffocating and relentless. Her mistake hadn’t just compromised the surgery; it had broken something between her and Rebecca. And she wasn’t sure how, or if, it could ever be fixed.
18
REBECCA
Rebecca sat at her desk in the dimly lit office, scrolling through her messages. Lillian’s name popped up on the screen—short, direct replies, nothing like the playful exchanges they used to have. The warmth in Lillian’s words had faded, replaced by something distant and cold, just like the silence Rebecca felt stretching between them more and more each day.
Her fingers hovered over her phone, debating whether to send another message. The last few texts had been met with the same brevity: "Busy. We’ll talk later." "Just a long day." Something wasn’t right, and Rebecca could feel it deep in her gut. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples, trying to figure out how to fix it—or even if she could.
