4. Rebecca #2
The scrub room was quiet, the soft hiss of water the only sound as Rebecca washed her hands.
She kept her focus sharp, mentally running through the details of the procedure ahead.
The patient, a middle-aged man with a severe aortic aneurysm, would require a meticulous and lengthy surgery, and Rebecca knew her reputation for precision would be on full display.
Still, as she prepared to enter the OR, the image of Lillian standing in her office—her face calm and unreadable—flashed across her mind again.
Rebecca had always maintained a strict separation between her personal and professional life.
It was part of what had made her so successful.
She didn’t let anything, or anyone, interfere with her work.
But there was something about Lillian’s quiet confidence that had lodged itself in Rebecca’s thoughts, something that made it difficult to push the encounter aside as just another anonymous moment.
In the OR, Rebecca was in her element. The sterile environment, the hum of machinery, the soft murmur of her team—it all felt like home.
Here, she had complete control. Every movement was calculated, every decision precise.
But even as she made the first incision, her hands steady and sure, her mind betrayed her once again.
Lillian’s laugh. The way her lips had curved into a smile when Rebecca had teased her at the bar. The way she had matched Rebecca, beat for beat, throughout the night, never asking for more, never expecting anything beyond what they had shared.
Rebecca pushed the memory aside, her jaw tightening as she focused on the task in front of her.
The surgery demanded her full attention, and she would not allow herself to slip.
But the thought lingered, a quiet whisper at the back of her mind, reminding her that things were no longer as simple as they had been.
Hours later, the surgery was over, and Rebecca stepped into the hallway, pulling off her surgical cap. The procedure had gone smoothly, just as she’d expected. She should have felt the usual satisfaction that came after a successful surgery, but instead, her thoughts drifted once again to Lillian.
It had been years since Rebecca had allowed herself any real emotional connection. Her relationships had always been brief, casual encounters that meant nothing beyond physical desire. She preferred it that way. No attachments, no distractions. But something about Lillian was different.
Maybe it was the fact that Lillian hadn’t tried to cling to what they’d shared.
She hadn’t reached out afterward, hadn’t asked for Rebecca’s number, hadn’t done any of the things women usually did when they wanted more than just a night.
Instead, she had walked away, just as coolly as Rebecca had, leaving the encounter behind without a second thought.
Or so it seemed.
Rebecca wondered if Lillian had truly been able to forget that night or if she, too, was battling the same internal conflict. Did she think about it? Did she replay it in her mind the way Rebecca did, even when she didn’t want to?
There was no way to know, and that unsettled her. Rebecca was used to knowing exactly where she stood, both in her personal life and her professional one. But with Lillian, the lines had blurred, and for the first time in a long while, Rebecca felt something she wasn’t accustomed to: curiosity.
She leaned against the wall, glancing at the clock. There was still time before her next meeting, but instead of heading to her office, she found herself lingering in the hallway, her thoughts drifting back to Lillian once more.
She hadn’t expected to see her again after that night, certainly not like this. And now, as Lillian’s mentor, Rebecca would be forced to spend time with her, guide her, watch her, and—whether she liked it or not—engage with her.
She had always prided herself on her ability to separate personal desires from professional duties.
But the more she thought about Lillian, the more difficult it became to maintain that separation.
The encounter hadn’t been planned, and yet, it had happened.
Now, Rebecca was left with a choice: maintain the wall between them or let it crack, just a little.
Rebecca straightened, shaking off the thought. She had no time for this. Not now. Not when her career, her reputation, and everything she had built rested on her ability to stay in control.
But as she walked back to her office, her thoughts still tangled in memories of that night, Rebecca couldn’t shake the feeling that control—at least where Lillian was concerned—might be slipping through her fingers.
The week flew by in a blur of surgeries, meetings, and training sessions.
For Rebecca, it should have been a routine week, the kind she thrived in—filled with meticulous procedures and controlled environments.
But with Lillian as her intern, routine had become something far more complicated.
What should have been a normal mentorship now felt charged with unspoken tension.
Every time Rebecca caught sight of Lillian in the hallways, every time she saw her scrubbed into surgery or sitting in on rounds, the memory of their night together surfaced, unwanted and unshakable.
Rebecca stood in the OR, her eyes on the monitor as she guided the surgical instruments with practiced precision. Lillian was positioned across from her, observing quietly, her focus intense as she watched the procedure unfold.
“Dr. Harrington, what’s your assessment of the patient’s condition?” Rebecca asked, her tone cool and professional.
Lillian responded quickly, her answer sharp and accurate. “The patient’s aortic valve is severely damaged due to calcification. Surgery is necessary to replace it and restore normal blood flow.”
Rebecca nodded, impressed despite herself.
Lillian’s knowledge was solid, and she’d clearly done her homework before scrubbing in.
Still, Rebecca found herself keeping a critical eye on Lillian’s every move and word, as if waiting for her to slip up, to show a crack in her composed exterior.
But there was none. Lillian was poised, focused, and seemingly unaffected by the personal history they shared.
Rebecca would keep things professional, and Lillian would do the same.
But as the surgery continued, Rebecca’s mind wandered, flashes of that night surfacing.
She remembered Lillian’s laugh, the way she had confidently matched her in conversation and in bed, the way she had left without asking for more.
“Dr. Lang?” Lillian’s voice snapped her back to the present.
Rebecca blinked, her focus shifting back to the surgery as she pushed the memory aside. She couldn’t afford distractions. Not here, not now.
But as the surgery concluded and Rebecca removed her gloves, she couldn’t help but glance at Lillian again. The younger woman was methodical, efficient, and completely professional. Just as she should be. Yet Rebecca couldn’t ignore the tension that lingered between them, unspoken but palpable.
Tuesday morning brought another meeting, this time with the team of interns, where Rebecca outlined the week’s surgical cases and expectations.
Lillian sat among them, her expression calm and focused, as if the weight of her surname wasn’t constantly hanging over her.
Rebecca couldn’t help but wonder if Lillian was truly as unaffected by their shared history as she appeared to be.
“Dr. Harrington,” Rebecca said, addressing Lillian directly during the meeting. “You’ll be assisting on the cardiac repair tomorrow. I expect you to be prepared and fully briefed on the case. No mistakes.”
Lillian nodded. “Of course.”
No hesitation. No faltering. Rebecca wanted to test her further, to push her harder, but she held back. There was no need. Lillian seemed determined to prove herself without any extra pressure.
Later that afternoon, as Rebecca passed through the hall on her way to another meeting, she spotted Lillian speaking with Benji.
Their easy rapport was clear, Benji laughing at something Lillian said.
Rebecca watched from a distance for a moment, noting how different Lillian seemed with her peers—lighter, less burdened by the weight of her family’s expectations.
Rebecca felt a flicker of something unexpected.
Jealousy? No, it wasn’t that. But there was something in the way Lillian carried herself outside of the OR that made Rebecca even more curious.
She was used to keeping her interns at arm’s length, maintaining a strict professional distance.
Yet with Lillian, it was becoming increasingly difficult.
By midweek, the strain of mentoring Lillian had started to weigh on Rebecca.
Each interaction, no matter how brief or professional, felt like a balancing act.
She was determined to treat Lillian as she would any other intern, to maintain the boundaries she had set for herself long ago.
But the personal history between them kept surfacing in her thoughts, and it was harder than ever to compartmentalize.
After a particularly grueling day of surgeries, Rebecca returned to her office, exhausted but still on edge.
She pulled out her phone and found herself staring at the dating app she had used to meet Lillian.
She hadn’t opened it since that night, but now, as she stared at it, she felt a strange pull to revisit the moment they had shared.
Before she could act on the impulse, there was a knock at her door.
“Come in,” she said, her voice steady despite the sudden rush of nerves.
Lillian stepped inside, holding a stack of reports. “I wanted to drop these off for the review tomorrow.”
Rebecca took the papers, their hands brushing briefly.
The touch was electric, sending a jolt of heat through her that she tried to ignore.
She glanced up, meeting Lillian’s eyes for just a moment.
There it was again—the unspoken tension between them, the weight of something neither could acknowledge but both clearly felt.
“Thank you, Dr. Harrington,” Rebecca said, her voice a little too stiff, a little too formal.
Lillian nodded, her expression unreadable. “Good night, Dr. Lang.”
She turned and left, the door clicking softly behind her. Rebecca sat back in her chair, her heart still racing. She hated that she couldn’t seem to shake the memory of that night, that Lillian’s presence in her life had complicated everything.
She had always prided herself on keeping things professional, on not letting personal desires interfere with her work. But with Lillian, it was becoming harder and harder to maintain that control.
By the end of the week, Rebecca was exhausted, both physically and mentally. She had been pushing herself hard, determined to maintain her composure and professionalism, even as the tension between her and Lillian simmered just beneath the surface.
The final surgery of the week had gone well, and as Rebecca scrubbed out, she glanced at Lillian, who was cleaning and packing up the surgical tools. The younger woman had performed flawlessly throughout the week, never once letting her guard down, never once slipping.
It was impressive.
But it also made Rebecca feel as though she was constantly on edge, always waiting for something to crack—whether it was Lillian’s composure or her own.
As she walked back to her office, Rebecca felt a strange sense of frustration.
It wasn’t just the professional challenges of mentoring Lillian; it was the personal pull, the fact that Lillian had gotten under her skin in a way no one else had.
And despite her best efforts to keep things strictly professional, Rebecca couldn’t deny that the lines were starting to blur.
She sat down at her desk and stared at the reports in front of her, but her mind wasn’t on the work. It was on Lillian, on the way she had walked out of that hotel room without looking back, on the way she moved through the hospital now with the same cool confidence.
Rebecca exhaled sharply, leaning back in her chair. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She was supposed to be in control, always. But with Lillian, control was starting to feel like a fragile thing, slipping away faster than she could catch it.
And that, more than anything else, terrified her.