12. Rebecca #2
She wanted to be with her. She wanted to give her more. But every time she got close, something pulled her back—fear, insecurity, the memory of Tessa, of how that had ended.
And as the elevator doors slid shut, Rebecca couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how much she wanted this, no matter how much she wanted Lillian, it might never be enough.
Rebecca walked down the dimly lit hospital corridor, her footsteps echoing in the silence of the nearly empty building.
The weight of the day pressed down on her shoulders, the complication with her patient lingering in the back of her mind.
But it wasn’t just the medical issues that gnawed at her; it was Lillian.
As the ICU doors closed behind her, Rebecca felt a pang of regret. She could’ve spent the evening with Lillian, talking, laughing, maybe even opening up a little more. Instead, she was here, alone, trapped by the demands of her work and the walls she had built around herself for protection.
She reached the elevator and pressed the button, leaning back against the cool metal doors as she waited. Her phone buzzed again, and for a fleeting second, she hoped it was Lillian. Maybe she had replied; maybe she hadn’t given up on her yet.
But when Rebecca looked at the screen, it wasn’t Lillian.
It was her mother, Vivian Lang.
Her heart sank. As much as she loved her mother in a distant, obligatory way, every interaction with Vivian was cold, clinical, and emotionally draining.
Vivian never called to check in on her well-being.
Every conversation was a reminder of the expectations placed on her shoulders—the Lang legacy, the reputation she had to uphold, the need to be perfect at all costs.
It was a reminder of why Rebecca had grown up building emotional walls in the first place.
Taking a deep breath, Rebecca reluctantly swiped to answer the call.
"Rebecca," her mother’s sharp, familiar voice crackled through the line. "I trust everything is in order for the event next weekend. You haven’t forgotten, have you?"
Rebecca’s jaw clenched. Of course she hadn’t forgotten. The conference dinner wasn’t as glamorous as the Harrington Gala, but delivering the keynote address made her attendance nonnegotiable.
"I haven’t forgotten," Rebecca replied, keeping her tone neutral.
"Good," Vivian continued, as if Rebecca’s confirmation wasn’t enough.
"It’s important that you look the part, as always.
And I hope you’re not planning on showing up alone again this year.
People are starting to notice, and it wouldn’t do well for your reputation to appear as if you don’t have a social life outside of the hospital. "
Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment, biting back the retort that threatened to escape.
Of course, her mother didn’t care about the realities of her life or how exhausting it was to juggle everything on her own.
All that mattered to Vivian was appearances—making sure that Rebecca upheld the perfect image of a successful surgeon with no room for vulnerability or emotional connection.
"I’ll manage," Rebecca said, her voice tight.
"Rebecca," her mother’s voice softened, but not in a comforting way. It was the kind of soft that felt like ice, thinly veiling her disappointment. "You’re getting older. It’s time you start thinking about more than just work. There’s more to life than surgery."
Rebecca nearly laughed. The irony of her mother, the woman who had pushed her into this career and demanded perfection at every turn, telling her there was more to life than work was almost too much. But she didn’t laugh. Instead, she let the silence linger between them.
"Is there anything else, Mother?" she asked, her voice colder now.
Vivian let out a small sigh, the kind that suggested Rebecca’s lack of enthusiasm had disappointed her yet again. "No, that’s all. Just don’t embarrass the family. I’ll see you next weekend."
Without waiting for a response, Vivian hung up, leaving Rebecca standing in the empty hospital hallway, the coldness of the conversation settling into her bones.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, but Rebecca didn’t move. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, the reminder of the medical conference, of her responsibilities, of the way she had been raised to keep her emotions locked up tight.
Rebecca had spent her entire life learning to control everything—her career, her image, her emotions—and now, here she was, standing on the edge of something she couldn’t control: her feelings for Lillian.
It terrified her.
With a heavy sigh, Rebecca stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. She had to get out of here, away from the hospital, from the pressures of work, from the weight of her family’s expectations.
As the elevator descended, her thoughts drifted back to Lillian, to the text she had sent earlier, asking for a rain check.
She had wanted to say yes, wanted to make time for Lillian, but every time she got close, something pulled her back.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, reminding her of the consequences of getting too attached, of letting someone in.
But Lillian wasn’t like anyone else. She wasn’t just another surgeon, colleague, or person who would eventually disappoint her. Lillian was warm, open, and full of life—the exact opposite of everything Rebecca had been taught to be. And that terrified her more than anything.
As the elevator doors opened, Rebecca stepped out into the lobby, her mind still racing. She needed to clear her head, to figure out what she wanted—what she was willing to risk for Lillian.
Without thinking, Rebecca pulled out her phone and opened the message thread with Lillian. Her fingers hovered over the screen, typing and deleting several drafts of a message, each one feeling too vulnerable, too exposed.
Finally, she settled on something simple.
Are you still awake?
She hit send before she could second-guess herself, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for a response.
The minutes ticked by, and Rebecca’s stomach twisted with uncertainty.
Maybe Lillian was done waiting for her, tired of the mixed signals and the push and pull that Rebecca couldn’t seem to stop.
But then, her phone buzzed, and Rebecca’s heart leaped into her throat.
Yeah, I’m up. What’s on your mind?
Rebecca stared at the message, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed: I was thinking about you. About us.
She paused, biting her lip as she considered what to say next. This wasn’t easy for her. Letting someone in, showing vulnerability—it went against everything she had trained herself to do. But with Lillian, it felt different. It felt like maybe, just maybe, it was worth the risk.
Can we talk? she typed, before quickly hitting send.
There was a long pause, and Rebecca’s stomach tightened with nerves. What if Lillian said no? What if she had already given up on her?
But then, the reply came.
Come over.
Rebecca’s heart pounded in her chest, her fingers tightening around her phone as she read the words again. Lillian was giving her a chance—a chance to talk, to be honest, to let her guard down.
And for the first time in a long time, Rebecca felt like maybe she was ready.
She slipped her phone back into her pocket and walked out of the hospital, the cold night air hitting her like a wake-up call. This was it. No more hiding, no more running. If she was going to make this work with Lillian, she had to be honest—not just with Lillian, but with herself.
As she walked to her car, her mind raced with a thousand thoughts. But one thing was clear:
She wanted Lillian.
And this time, she wasn’t going to let her fear get in the way.