Desmond
Iwas halfway through updating my own chart when Frank swaggered in without knocking. Of course he did.
He leaned against the counter as if he owned the place, arms crossed, eyes flicking over my dressing before settling on me with that smug, satisfied little smile that always made my blood boil. “Quite a scene earlier,” he said.
I kept my voice measured. “It was straightforward. Dr. Volkov handled the laceration properly.” In through the nose, out through the mouth. I couldn’t let him get under my skin.
“Sure,” he said, shrugging. “But I can’t help noticing… you’ve got a funny way of leaning on your resident.”
I froze mid-pen stroke. “Excuse me?”
He leaned closer, low enough that the words slithered under the door of professionalism. “I mean… really, Desmond. From what I hear, she’s always finding reasons to be around you, hovering, showing off, hoping you’ll look her way. Makes me wonder if some of her care isn’t about the patient at all.”
My jaw locked. His meaning was thinly veiled, but every ounce hit like a slap. That’s not a suggestion — that’s an accusation. “She’s here to do her job,” I said, voice low and tight.
Frank tilted his head, the smirk still in place. “Yeah? Are you sure about that? Because some people would call spending extra time at your side… I dunno… networking in a very personal way.”
The first thread of heat coiled in my chest. I pressed my hands against the mattress to keep from lashing out. “I’m not sure what your point is,” I said, keeping my tone razor-sharp. “Her professionalism isn’t up for debate. And your insinuations are inappropriate.”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Inappropriate? I’m trying to protect the department here.
Do you think anyone doesn’t notice how she flutters around you?
How she times every visit, every procedure?
It’s sloppy. It’s unprofessional. And frankly, it looks like she’s using every trick she can think of to… get to you.”
Heat flared fully now. My chest tightened. My hands curled into fists at my sides.
“Stop,” I said.
He didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.
“I’m saying it loud enough for you to hear, Desmond. She’s using you. Probably fucking you in her head, if not in reality. You’re too blind to notice. And the whole department? They’re watching. They’ll see it soon, too.”
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t raise my voice. I just leaned slightly forward, letting the quiet thrum in the room do the work. “Watch yourself, Frank. I will not tolerate insinuations about the character of my residents. And if you think that’s acceptable here, think again.”
He smirked. “I’m just looking out for the department. Do you think she’s capable of managing her emotions around you? Some residents get… attached to their mentors in ways that compromise judgment.”
I met his gaze steadily, cold and precise. “She’s one of the most competent doctors I’ve ever worked with. And I’m not about to let your biases tarnish that.”
“Answer the question, Desmond. Are you fucking your resident?”
He took a step closer, but I didn’t falter.
My chest was calm. My hands rested lightly on the chart.
My voice didn’t rise. “You do this again,” I said quietly, “and it won’t be a conversation.
You will have to explain to HR exactly why you’re questioning a colleague’s competence based on insinuations about her sexuality. ”
Frank’s smirk faltered. “That’s… dramatic.”
I leaned a fraction closer, just enough that the distance became a subtle line of threat. “No. It’s exactly what’s occurring. And it’s about time you learned that being a senior attending doesn’t make you untouchable.”
He blinked, briefly caught off guard. The hallway outside hushed just enough that his next words stumbled. “You… you’re overreacting—”
“No,” I said, voice smooth and measured. “I’m protecting her. You’ve been undermining her for years. Today, I’m making sure it stops. Right now. You will not — and understand me clearly — you will not speak about her in these terms again.”
He straightened, trying to regain posture. I let my hands drop slowly to my sides, keeping my gaze unbroken. My chest still thumped under the calm surface, but every word, every pause, radiated the kind of anger that didn’t need volume to terrify.
Frank didn’t argue further. Not in words. He finally backed out of the room, muttering about complaints and professional boundaries. The curtain snapped shut behind him hard enough to echo, but I stayed still, letting the silence and the rhythm of my breathing do the talking.
I hadn’t shouted. I hadn’t lunged. And yet, if anyone had been listening, they would have heard the explosion all the same. And somewhere in the quiet, I realized I had just drawn my line in the sand around her. Publicly. And anyone paying attention would know it.