Page 53 of Dr. Lillian Harrington
Lillian had always been the more open one, the one who could melt Rebecca’s icy exterior with just a smile or a teasing comment. But now, that openness was gone, and Rebecca wasn’t sure what had changed. She wondered if the incident in the OR had been the tipping point. The way she had snapped at Lillian, the way her words had cut deeper than they should have—it haunted her. But she convinced herself it was necessary. This ishow it works in surgery. You can’t show weakness, not even to the people you care about.
Still, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered that she had crossed a line that day, and now, everything felt broken. She sighed, staring at the phone as if it would give her the answers. Maybe it was just work. They were both busy. They were always busy. But this...this felt different. Lillian was pulling away, and Rebecca didn’t know how to stop it.
Later that day, Rebecca caught a glimpse of Lillian in the hallway of the hospital. She was talking with a few colleagues, her smile polite but nowhere near reaching her eyes. That familiar tightness in Rebecca’s chest returned, and she knew she couldn’t ignore it anymore. She approached Lillian after the group dispersed, trying to appear calm, though the anxiety was gnawing at her.
"Hey," Rebecca said, her voice steady as always, but inside she was anything but.
Lillian turned, offering a faint smile. "Hey."
Rebecca hesitated. She wasn’t good at these kinds of conversations—emotional ones. She wasn’t even sure how to start. "Are you okay? You seem...different lately. If this is about the OR, we can talk about it."
Lillian’s eyes flickered, a flash of hurt crossing her face before she quickly masked it. "It’s not just the OR, Rebecca. It’s...everything."
Rebecca stiffened, unsure how to respond. Everything? She had expected Lillian to mention the OR, but the scope of that word—everything—hit her like a punch. But instead of divingdeeper, she did what she always did: retreated into logic, into practicality.
"Is this about work? Because I know it’s been a rough couple of weeks?—"
Lillian cut her off, shaking her head. "No, Rebecca, it’s not about work. It’s about us."
Rebecca blinked, the words hanging between them like a thick fog she didn’t know how to clear. She wanted to ask what Lillian meant, but she was already terrified of the answer. Instead, she nodded, saying the one thing she always fell back on. "Let’s talk after work. We can grab dinner."
"Sure," Lillian replied, though her voice sounded far away, like she wasn’t really there anymore.
Rebecca watched as Lillian walked away, her heart heavy with the feeling that something irreversible had just shifted. But instead of confronting it, she let it sit, untouched, hoping that maybe a conversation later would fix things. She didn’t realize, though, that by staying distant, she was only pushing Lillian further away.
Back in her office, Rebecca paced. She knew the conversation with Lillian was coming, but every time she thought about opening up—really opening up—she froze. Vulnerability wasn’t her strong suit. It never had been. She’d spent her entire life building walls, keeping everyone at arm’s length, even those she loved. Especially those she loved.
She paused by the window, staring out at the hospital grounds, her mind a chaotic mix of regret and fear. Lillian had made it clear that she needed more. More than Rebecca wasgiving. But the thought of letting someone in, of allowing herself to be truly seen, terrified her.
What if I lose control?she thought. Rebecca had always maintained control, both in the OR and in her life. It was what made her successful, what made her...untouchable. But now, it was what might cost her the one person she didn’t want to lose.
She replayed Lillian’s words in her head. Rebecca knew that Lillian wasn’t asking for perfection; she was asking for connection. And that was the one thing Rebecca didn’t know if she could give.
But I care about her, she thought, the fear gnawing at her chest. She cared deeply for Lillian, more than she had for anyone in years. The walls she had built were strong, but Lillian had always had a way of slipping through the cracks. And now, those cracks were turning into chasms, and Rebecca wasn’t sure how to close them—or if she should even try.
Maybe this was her fault. Maybe if she had just been more supportive, more open, Lillian wouldn’t be pulling away. But opening up meant risking everything. It meant losing the control she’d spent her whole life clinging to.
Rebecca shook her head, pacing again. She couldn’t afford to lose focus, not now. Her career was everything. It had always been. But as she sat back down at her desk, staring at the blank screen in front of her, the reality hit her hard.
For the first time in her life, Rebecca didn’t know if her career was enough.
And she wasn’t sure if she had it in her to fix what was broken.
The apartment was quiet when Lillian and Rebecca stepped inside after a long shift. The silence felt heavier than usual, like it was pressing down on the both of them. Rebecca noticed how tired Lillian looked—dark circles under her eyes, her shoulders slumped. She had seen Lillian exhausted before, but this felt different. It wasn’t just the weariness of the hospital; it was something deeper. Emotional.
Rebecca walked further into the room, setting her keys down on the table. She glanced back at Lillian, who stood near the door, unmoving. The tension between them had been building for days, a thick, unspoken cloud neither of them had dared to address.
"You want to eat something?" Rebecca asked, her voice cautious, trying to sound casual even though she could feel the distance growing between them.
Lillian shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. "No. We need to talk."
The words hit Rebecca like a punch, but she kept her expression neutral. She turned to face Lillian fully, leaning back against the kitchen counter, crossing her arms over her chest, a protective stance she often defaulted to. Lillian stepped further into the apartment, her movements slow, and deliberate, like she was trying to gather strength for what she was about to say.
"I can’t do this anymore, Rebecca," Lillian said, her voice quiet but steady. There was no hesitation in her tone, no wavering. She had thought about this—rehearsed it, maybe—and now, she was delivering the words Rebecca had dreaded hearing for weeks.
Rebecca felt her heart drop, but instinctively, she withdrew, pulling back into her cold, detached self. "So that’s it?" she replied, her voice sharper than she intended. "You’re giving up because I’m not...what? Not touchy-feely enough for you?"
Lillian’s eyes flashed with hurt, but she didn’t back down. "No, Rebecca. I’m walking away because I’ve been trying to meet you where you are, but it’s not enough." She took a deep breath, her frustration and sadness palpable. "I need more. I need someone who can be there for me, not just in the OR but outside of it too. I need support, physical and emotional”
