Chapter 14 Roz
ROZ
Roz sat slumped at her dining table, her fingers absently spinning a pen between them.
The apartment was cloaked in shadows, save for the lone lamp perched in the corner that cast more gloom than light.
The surgical notes in front of her had become a blur of ink, the words smudged as though mocking her futile attempts at distraction.
The place was immaculate, of course, Roz always made sure of that.
Her furniture was sleek and minimalist. The shelves were lined with well-organized books and a few framed certificates, but there were no photos, no signs of life beyond utility.
Still, the neatness did nothing to offset how hollow it all felt tonight.
Beside her sat a mug of coffee long gone cold, the liquid as bitter as the thoughts gnawing at her mind. Evelyn’s ultimatum echoed in the silence, a cruel refrain that refused to let her breathe.
“You can’t have both, Rosalind. Choose.”
Her mother’s voice always sounded so final. Like judgment being passed down from on high. Roz could almost picture her face, that look of sheer disappointment as if Roz had been a mistake Evelyn had long grown tired of correcting.
A sharp knock shattered the heavy stillness. Roz startled, her pen clattering to the table. She sat frozen, listening as the knock came again, harder this time.
“Roz!” came a familiar voice, bright and unwavering.
Roz groaned and let her head drop into her hands. “Of course.”
The knocking turned into a loud thump. “If you don’t open this door, I swear to God I’ll scale the fire escape like I’m in some romcom.”
Roz pushed back from the table with a heavy sigh and walked to the door, muttering curses under her breath. She unlocked it and yanked it open.
Olivia Harrington stood there, grinning like a cat who’d just won a game it wasn’t even supposed to be playing. She held up two familiar brown paper bags of Thai food, her brows waggling.
“You look like hell,” Olivia announced, brushing past Roz like she owned the place. “Good thing I brought spring rolls. No one can brood with spring rolls.”
Roz turned toward her sister with an incredulous glare. “Do you ever consider calling before barging in?”
“And risk you not answering? Not a chance.” Olivia was already unpacking the food, spreading cartons across the low coffee table like she was setting up a feast. She shot a look over her shoulder. “Take your shoes off and relax, Roz.”
Roz blinked, barely concealing her irritation. “I didn’t ask you to come here, Liv.”
Olivia sat cross-legged on the couch, tearing open a container of noodles and digging in with her chopsticks.
“And I didn’t ask for your permission,” she replied, smiling brightly around a mouthful of food.
“Now come sit down before I start narrating your descent into moody solitude like a nature documentary.”
Roz pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling through gritted teeth. “Liv, I’m serious. Not tonight.”
“Tough luck. I’m staying.” Olivia patted the cushion beside her. “Sit. Eat. Hate me later if you must.”
Roz lingered in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, still unwilling to concede defeat. “Why are you even here?”
“Because I’m your sister, and you clearly need me,” Olivia said matter-of-factly, gesturing around the dim apartment. “Look at this place, Roz. You’ve made brooding into a performance art.”
Roz rolled her eyes but finally gave in, moving to sit on the edge of the couch like the whole ordeal might collapse at any moment. Olivia handed her a spring roll, which Roz accepted without comment.
The room settled into a momentary calm, punctuated only by the sound of Olivia chewing. Roz bit into her food mechanically, her appetite nonexistent, but she appreciated the distraction, until Olivia broke the silence.
“So,” Olivia began, her tone deliberately casual. “You and Sam. That’s all anyone at the hospital can talk about, you know.”
Roz stiffened immediately, her grip on the spring roll tightening. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Olivia asked innocently, though her eyes flashed with mischief. “Pretend this isn’t happening? Or pretend you didn’t blow it up all by yourself?”
Roz shot her a warning glare. “It’s none of your business, Liv.”
Olivia ignored the warning completely. “Did Mom slap the Harrington Disappointment sticker on your forehead yet? Or is she saving that for the next family brunch?”
Roz’s jaw tightened. “I said drop it.”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time,” Olivia said, unperturbed. She leaned forward, her tone shifting from teasing to sincere. “But I’m not dropping it. You can pretend all you want that this isn’t a big deal, but it is. Sam is.”
Roz’s chest tightened at the mention of Sam’s name. She turned away, staring at the empty lamp-lit corner. “I’m not talking about this with you.”
“Of course you’re not,” Olivia shot back, her voice sharpening. “You’re Roz Harrington, surgeon, stoic extraordinaire. You’d sooner bottle everything up and implode than admit you’re scared.”
Roz’s head snapped around, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I do,” Olivia countered, unflinching. “I know you’re scared because this isn’t just someone. This is Sam. And she matters to you. God forbid Roz Harrington actually care about something that could hurt her.”
Roz stood abruptly, pacing to the other side of the room. “You don’t get it, Liv. It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” Olivia pushed. “Because Mom wouldn’t approve? Because you’re worried about the Harrington name? Or because, for once in your life, you can’t control how you feel?”
Roz whipped around, her voice sharp. “This isn’t about Mom.”
“Isn’t it?” Olivia shot back, standing now too. “Everything you do is about proving yourself to her. Roz, you’re not her puppet. You don’t have to let her dictate your life.”
Roz clenched her fists, biting back the surge of emotion threatening to escape. “Liv, just leave it alone.”
Olivia stared at her sister, her expression softening despite her frustration. “I can’t. Because I know you, Roz. And I know that if you let Sam go because of Mom or your stupid pride, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
Roz said nothing, her chest heaving as silence settled between them. Olivia watched her for a moment longer before sighing, her voice gentler now.
“You don’t have to be perfect, Roz. You just have to be brave.”
She grabbed her coat, leaving the food on the table. At the door, Olivia paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “Sam thinks you’re worth it. I can see it in the way she looks at you. The question is, do you think she’s worth it too?”
Roz didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
The door clicked shut behind Olivia, and the silence returned. Only now, it wasn’t empty; it was unbearable.
The silence in Roz’s apartment stretched long after Olivia left, settling like a physical weight.
The tension from their argument still pulsed through Roz’s body, leaving her feeling raw and exposed.
She lingered by the window, watching the headlights of cars flash across the street below, but the movement did nothing to distract her from Olivia’s words echoing in her head.
“You’re scared because you care, Roz.”
Roz scoffed to herself, her jaw tight as she paced the length of her living room.
She had let Olivia push too far and get too close.
No one was allowed to strip her down like that—not her sisters, not Sam, no one.
She ran a hand through her hair, frustrated, feeling like a marionette with her strings tangled.
A sudden knock at the door jarred her thoughts. Roz turned sharply, her pulse jumping. “Liv, for God’s sake, ”
“It’s still me,” Olivia’s voice came through, flat but firm. “Open the damn door, Roz.”
Roz hesitated, the earlier confrontation making her wary, but Olivia had never been one to quit easily. With an irritated sigh, Roz pulled the door open. Olivia was back, coat shrugged off and sleeves rolled up like she was ready for another round.
“Didn’t you leave already?” Roz muttered.
“I changed my mind,” Olivia replied, brushing past her again and dropping her coat unceremoniously on the couch. “We’re not done.”
Roz turned slowly, her shoulders squaring defensively. “Liv—”
“No.” Olivia held up a hand, cutting her off. “You don’t get to shut me out this time, Roz.” She softened, shaking her head. “Not when it’s this important.”
Roz’s chest tightened, the mix of Olivia’s blunt determination and gentle concern throwing her completely off guard. She hated how well Olivia could read her, how quickly her sister had managed to disarm her.
“This isn’t about Sam,” Roz muttered, crossing her arms as if that could guard her from the truth.
“Then what’s it about?” Olivia challenged, stepping closer. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you’re running scared.”
Roz’s glare was sharp, her tone clipped. “I’m not scared of anything, Liv. I’ve got it handled.”
“No, you don’t.” Olivia’s voice was steady, unwavering, the calm counterpoint to Roz’s rising frustration. “You think I can’t see what’s happening? You’re panicking because this is real. Because Sam is real. And God forbid Roz Harrington care about something she can’t control.”
“That’s not true,” Roz snapped, though her voice wavered slightly at the end.
“Isn’t it?” Olivia pushed, undeterred. “You always keep everyone at arm’s length. You bury yourself in surgeries and perfection because it’s safe. It’s what you know. But Sam isn’t like that. She’s not something you can schedule or fix, and that scares the hell out of you.”
Roz flinched, the words cutting too close. She turned away, needing space, but Olivia wasn’t finished.
“You let Mom decide everything for you, Roz,” Olivia continued, quieter now. “Your career, your reputation, hell, even the way you live. You’re still chasing her approval, and you don’t even realize it.”
Roz spun back to face her sister, anger flaring. “This isn’t about Mom!”