12. Rebecca
REBECCA
R ebecca Lang lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the soft hum of city traffic outside her window doing little to calm her racing thoughts.
The night after their dinner date had left her feeling something she hadn’t felt in years: uncertain.
She had built a life of control, of carefully curated walls and boundaries, but ever since Lillian walked into her life, everything seemed to be unraveling.
It had been years since she let anyone get close.
The thought of letting her guard down, of allowing someone to see the vulnerable, human side of her, terrified Rebecca more than she cared to admit.
She had been burned before—by Tessa, by colleagues, by her own family—and she wasn’t about to let it happen again.
But then there was Lillian.
Rebecca sighed, running a hand through her dark hair, feeling the weight of the previous evening.
The diner had been unexpected, not at all what she had envisioned for a date, but somehow, it had felt.
..easy. Sitting there, laughing about greasy burgers, letting her guard down just a little, it had felt real.
Lillian had a way of pulling her out of herself, of making her feel like it was okay to be something other than the cold, composed surgeon everyone knew her to be.
But that was the problem. It was only okay in those fleeting moments.
And Rebecca knew that the second they returned to the real world, she would be forced to pull back.
She couldn’t afford to let someone like Lillian in.
She couldn’t afford the vulnerability that came with letting someone truly know her.
She had tried before. Tessa had pushed her to open up and tried to coax out the pieces of Rebecca that she kept buried deep inside.
But when things got too hard, too messy, Rebecca had done what she always did—shut down.
She had been left alone, again, and the pain of losing Tessa had only reinforced her belief that emotional closeness wasn’t worth the risk.
Still, as she lay there in the dim early morning light, Rebecca found herself thinking about Lillian—the way her eyes had sparkled with mischief when she’d teased her about the diner, the way her laughter had filled the air, the way her hand had felt warm against her own.
She hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind all night.
But now, the morning had come, and Rebecca knew the reality of their situation would hit hard.
She had surgeries to prepare for, a meeting with the hospital board about a new research initiative, and a constant pressure to maintain her reputation.
There was no room for personal connections in her life, especially not with someone as emotionally open as Lillian.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, pulling her out of her thoughts. She reached for it, expecting another work email or a reminder from Jackson about the day’s schedule. Instead, it was a message from Lillian.
Good morning. I can still taste that burger. What about you?
Rebecca felt a small smile tug at her lips. It was so simple, so casual, yet it made her heart skip a beat. Lillian had a way of making things feel light, easy, in a world where everything else felt so heavy.
She typed a quick response, her fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before hitting send.
Still the best burger I’ve had in years. Maybe we should do it again sometime.
It was the kind of message Rebecca would normally shy away from—too open, too suggestive of something more—but with Lillian, it felt almost okay.
Still, as soon as she sent it, a wave of doubt washed over her.
What was she doing? This wasn’t her. She didn’t make plans for the future, didn’t invite people back into her life once they’d crossed into the realm of something more personal.
Shaking her head, Rebecca slid out of bed and walked to the bathroom. She needed to get her mind back on track. She had a full day ahead of her, and the last thing she could afford was to let her feelings for Lillian distract her from her work.
The hospital was as hectic as ever when Rebecca arrived, her mind already focused on the upcoming surgeries.
She moved quickly through the corridors, her heels clicking against the floor as she mentally ran through the procedures for the day.
It was easier this way—keeping busy, staying focused on the tasks at hand, rather than letting her mind wander to the complexities of her personal life.
But even as she tried to bury herself in work, Lillian’s text kept popping into her thoughts. It wasn’t just the message itself, but the ease with which Lillian had reached out to her, as if there were no walls between them, no boundaries that had to be carefully maintained.
Rebecca walked into the OR prep room, her hands moving through the familiar routine of scrubbing in.
As she focused on the process, she felt the calmness settle over her—the same calm that always came when she stepped into the operating room.
Here, she was in control. Here, she knew exactly what needed to be done.
But even in the OR, with the steady rhythm of the surgery unfolding in front of her, Rebecca’s mind kept drifting back to Lillian. She could almost hear Lillian’s laugh, the way it had lit up the diner the night before, and it made her chest tighten with something she didn’t want to name.
As the surgery came to a close, Rebecca finished stitching up the incision and glanced up at the clock.
It was nearing lunchtime, and she knew she’d have a brief window before her next meeting.
Normally, she would use that time to grab a quick bite alone, maybe go over notes for the afternoon’s consult.
But today, she found herself reaching for her phone again, her fingers typing out a message to Lillian before she could stop herself.
Busy today?
She didn’t expect a reply right away—Lillian was likely caught up in her own rounds—but a part of her hoped for something, some small acknowledgment that would pull her out of this constant push and pull she felt between them.
As Rebecca walked down the hallway toward her office, her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down, her heart giving a quick flutter when she saw Lillian’s response.
Not too bad. How about you? Surviving?
Rebecca couldn’t help but smile at the message, even as a pang of guilt settled in her chest. She knew what Lillian wanted: more.
More connection, more openness, more vulnerability.
And Rebecca wanted to give that to her, but every time she started to, something inside her pulled back.
The fear of letting someone in, of being seen as something other than the perfect, composed professional, kept her from giving Lillian what she needed.
She paused outside her office door, her fingers hesitating over the phone’s screen.
Barely , she typed back, adding a small smirk emoji to soften the seriousness. Then, before she could think too much about it, she added, Dinner again sometime?
It was a step—a small one—but Rebecca knew it was more than she usually allowed herself to offer. Lillian deserved more, and Rebecca was trying, even if it scared her.
Later that afternoon, as Rebecca sat through a long, drawn-out meeting with the hospital board, her mind kept drifting back to Lillian.
She could hear the usual chatter around her—budget proposals, research initiatives, staffing concerns—but it all felt distant, like background noise.
All she could think about was how she had been slowly, unknowingly letting Lillian in, despite every instinct telling her to stop.
The meeting dragged on, and Rebecca’s patience wore thin.
She kept checking the clock, her mind replaying the diner conversation from the night before—the laughter, the teasing, the way Lillian had looked at her with such open affection.
It was something Rebecca wasn’t used to—someone looking at her like that, like she was worth more than just her professional accomplishments.
Her phone buzzed in her lap, and Rebecca discreetly glanced at the screen. Another message from Lilllan.
How about tonight? I’m free.
Rebecca’s pulse quickened. Tonight? It was so soon, and yet, the thought of seeing Lillian again stirred something inside her that she couldn’t ignore.
But even as she typed out her response, her fingers froze. Her phone buzzed again, but this time, it was from Jackson. There had been a complication with one of her post-op patients, and she was needed in the ICU.
Her stomach sank, and Rebecca quickly replied to Jackson, telling him she’d be there immediately. She looked back at Lillian’s message, her heart sinking with disappointment. She didn’t have time. Not tonight.
I wish I could, but something’s come up in the ICU. Can we rain check?
She hit send, her jaw clenching with frustration. She had wanted to say yes and make time for Lillian, but once again, work had pulled her away. It always did.
Hours later, Rebecca found herself standing in the ICU, watching as the machines monitored her patient’s vitals.
The complication had been minor, thankfully, and the patient was stable now.
But the weight of the day sat heavy on Rebecca’s shoulders, and for the first time in a long while, she felt the familiar gnawing sense of loneliness creeping in.
She pulled her phone from her pocket, staring at Lillian’s last message. Lillian hadn’t responded to her rain check, and Rebecca couldn’t help but wonder if she had finally pushed her too far.
Sighing, she slipped the phone back into her pocket and walked out of the ICU, her steps slow and measured. The hospital was quiet now, the day winding down, and as Rebecca made her way to the elevator, her thoughts drifted once again to Lillian.