13. Lillian #2
They shifted only to gather each other closer, legs tangled, sheet a careless knot at their shins, skin damp where heat had met and met again.
The rhythm of their bodies settled into the quiet rhythm of the room—inhale, exhale; rise, fall—and the promise that had been threaded through every kiss lingered in the air between them.
Maybe, just maybe, Rebecca was ready to give more.
She had given it already, Lillian thought, in the only way that mattered: not with declarations, but with careful hands and a pace that said stay, with a patience that felt like devotion, with a mouth that told the truth when words were too fragile to carry it.
It was just them—still breathless, still tangled, still lost and found in each other—learning the shape of a future one tender, deliberate touch at a time.
And when it was over, when they lay in the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the window, Rebecca didn’t pull away.
She didn’t make excuses, didn’t gather her clothes and leave like she had before.
Instead, she stayed, her arm draped lazily over Lillian’s waist, her breath warm against Lillian’s shoulder.
Lillian turned her head slightly, her fingers brushing against Rebecca’s cheek. "You’re staying," she whispered, her voice filled with quiet awe.
Rebecca’s eyes met hers, and for the first time, there was no guardedness in them. Just something soft, real.
"I am," Rebecca whispered back, her voice barely audible.
They lay there in comfortable silence, the weight of the moment settling between them. Lillian had never felt so close to Rebecca, so connected, and it made her heart swell with something she hadn’t been prepared for: hope.
The next morning, Lillian woke to the smell of coffee wafting through the air. She blinked, momentarily disoriented before the events of the previous night came rushing back. She smiled to herself, feeling the warmth of the memory settle over her.
She slipped out of bed, pulling on a shirt before making her way into the kitchen. There, standing at the counter, was Rebecca, holding two mugs of coffee and looking far more relaxed than Lillian had ever seen her.
"You made coffee?" Lillian asked, her voice laced with surprise.
Rebecca smirked, handing her a mug. "I did. Don’t expect it every time."
Lillian laughed, taking a sip. "I wouldn’t dare."
They stood there, sipping their coffee in a comfortable silence. It was easy, natural, like they had been doing this for years. And for a moment, Lillian allowed herself to believe that maybe this was the start of something real.
As they sat down at the small kitchen table, Lillian glanced over at Rebecca, studying her face. She looked different. Softer. There was a quietness to her that Lillian hadn’t seen before, and it made her heart ache with the hope that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something new.
"You’re quieter than usual," Lillian said gently, placing her mug on the table. "Are you okay?"
Rebecca looked at her for a long moment, her eyes searching Lillian’s face. "I’m not used to this," she admitted softly, her fingers playing with the handle of her mug. "Staying. Being...here. With someone."
Lillian reached across the table, taking Rebecca’s hand in hers. "You don’t have to be used to it," she said quietly. "You just have to let it happen."
Rebecca’s gaze softened, and for the first time, Lillian saw the full extent of her vulnerability—the fear, the uncertainty, but also the desire for something more.
"I’m trying," Rebecca whispered.
And Lillian believed her.
The day had started beautifully, with Rebecca staying for breakfast, sharing soft conversation and moments of intimacy that felt like they were building toward something more. But as soon as they stepped foot into the hospital, things shifted.
It had started small—Rebecca’s usual guardedness creeping back in as they walked through the sterile halls. Lillian had expected that. They couldn’t exactly act like a couple in front of their colleagues, and she respected Rebecca’s need for professionalism. But then, things took a turn.
Lillian had just finished prepping for her next case when she saw Rebecca talking to someone near the nurses' station. At first, Lillian didn’t think much of it, until she noticed the woman Rebecca was speaking with.
Tall, with sharp features and an easy confidence, the woman was clearly someone important.
The way she stood, the way Rebecca’s posture stiffened, it all screamed history .
Lillian’s heart sank.
She made her way over, intending to greet Rebecca with a casual smile, but as she got closer, Rebecca’s eyes flicked to her, and in an instant, her entire demeanor changed.
"Lillian," Rebecca said, her voice cool, detached. "This is Dr. Tessa Vaughn, a colleague from my fellowship days."
The woman, Tessa, smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Nice to meet you, Lillian. I’ve heard a lot about you."
Lillian tried to smile, but the sudden shift in Rebecca’s tone threw her off-balance. This wasn’t the Rebecca she had spent the night with, the one who had opened up, who had shown her vulnerability. This was the cold, distant version of Rebecca—the one Lillian had hoped was starting to fade.
Before Lillian could respond, Rebecca spoke again, her voice clipped. "Lillian’s one of our newer interns. She’s...doing fine."
Doing fine? The words hit Lillian like a punch to the gut. Intern? That’s all she was now?
Rebecca’s eyes flicked between Lillian and Tessa, her expression unreadable. But Lillian could see it—the wall was back up, stronger than ever. Whatever progress they had made last night had vanished, and now, Rebecca was back to treating her like just another colleague. An average intern.
Lillian swallowed hard, her stomach twisting with disappointment. "I’ll let you two catch up," she said softly, turning away before either of them could respond.
As she walked down the hall, the sting of Rebecca’s words lingered. Last night had felt like a breakthrough, a step toward something real. But now, standing in the cold, impersonal hospital, it felt like everything had crumbled.
And Lillian couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it would always be: moments of vulnerability, followed by walls of ice.
Lillian’s hands gripped the edges of the sink, her knuckles white as she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Her face was flushed, her eyes red and swollen from holding back tears, but the pain in her chest was so much worse than the physical signs of her distress.
She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself, but the emotions roiled inside her, refusing to settle.
Rebecca’s cold, detached words echoed in her mind. How could she have switched so quickly from the vulnerable woman who had stayed in her bed, who had made coffee in her kitchen, to this distant, indifferent version of herself? It felt like whiplash, and Lillian didn’t know how to process it.
She pressed the heel of her hand to her chest, trying to push down the ache that had taken residence there.
She had thought—hoped—that things were different now.
That after the night they had shared, Rebecca was finally letting her in.
But now, in the stark fluorescent light of the hospital, it was clear that the Rebecca she had seen last night had vanished, replaced by the cold, unapproachable surgeon she always seemed to retreat into.
A sob threatened to escape her throat, and Lillian quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, not wanting anyone to hear. She couldn’t break down here—not at the hospital, where everyone was watching, where her reputation as an intern was still being built. But the weight of everything was too much.
Suddenly, the sound of the door creaking open broke through the quiet. Lillian quickly wiped at her eyes, trying to compose herself, but it was too late.
"Lil?"
Lillian’s heart sank. It was Olivia. The youngest of her older sisters stood in the doorway, her face etched with concern as she took in the scene before her.
"Lillian, are you crying?" Olivia asked softly, stepping further into the bathroom.
Her voice was gentle, but there was a firmness behind it, the kind of warmth that only Olivia could bring.
She closed the door behind her, giving them privacy, and walked over to Lillian, her hand resting lightly on her back.
Lillian swallowed hard, her throat tight. "I’m fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, though the tremble in it gave her away.
Olivia’s eyes softened, and she shook her head, brushing a strand of blonde hair away from Lillian’s face. "No, you’re not."
That simple statement undid her. The dam Lillian had been holding back finally broke, and the tears came, spilling down her cheeks in hot, silent streams. Olivia pulled her into a hug without hesitation, holding her close as Lillian’s body shook with sobs.
They stayed like that for a while, Olivia rubbing slow, comforting circles on Lillian’s back, not asking any questions, not pushing for answers. Just being there. Just letting her cry.
When Lillian’s tears finally slowed, Olivia pulled back slightly, keeping her hands on Lillian’s shoulders as she looked her in the eye. "Do you want to tell me what’s going on?" she asked gently.
Lillian bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the floor. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Olivia everything—not about Rebecca, not about the affair. But she needed to talk to someone, to let out at least some of what she had been holding inside.
"It’s..." Lillian hesitated, searching for the right words. "It’s complicated. There’s someone.
And...I thought things were changing. I thought she was letting me in.
But then today..." Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep her emotions in check.
"Today, she just turned cold. Like nothing had changed. Like I didn’t matter. "