Rebecca had always prided herself on being in control, on maintaining a tight grip on her personal and professional life,never allowing them to overlap. But Lillian’s sudden presence had shaken that carefully maintained balance.
She shook her head as she glanced at her watch, noting the time. A surgery was scheduled in less than an hour, and she needed to review the case one last time. Still, as she tried to push the memory of that night with Lillian to the back of her mind, flashes of it kept surfacing unbidden.
The hotel. The low lighting. The way Lillian had walked into the bar, her confident gaze scanning the room before locking with Rebecca’s.
That undeniable pull between them.
The night had been a rare indulgence, a brief escape from the pressure of her professional life. Rebecca had no intention of complicating it with personal connections, especially not with someone she would be mentoring. But the ease with which Lillian had moved on—how she had walked into that office, sat across from her, and never once acknowledged the night they’d shared—left Rebecca more curious than she wanted to admit.
She had expected awkwardness, maybe even an apology or a slip in professionalism. Instead, Lillian had mirrored her own ability to compartmentalize. It impressed Rebecca. And it bothered her. She was used to being the one in control, the one who could set the terms and walk away without a second thought. But this time, Lillian’s composure was unsettling, as if Rebecca was the one on uneven ground.
Rebecca stood and gathered the files for the surgery, her movements quick and precise. She had no time to waste on distractions, especially not on personal ones. But even as she headed to the OR, the memory of Lillian’s hands, the way she’d pulled her close, lingered in her mind.
The scrub room was quiet, the soft hiss of water the only sound as Rebecca washed her hands. She kept her focus sharp, mentally running through the details of the procedure ahead.The patient, a middle-aged man with a severe aortic aneurysm, would require a meticulous and lengthy surgery, and Rebecca knew her reputation for precision would be on full display.
Still, as she prepared to enter the OR, the image of Lillian standing in her office—her face calm and unreadable—flashed across her mind again.
Rebecca had always maintained a strict separation between her personal and professional life. It was part of what had made her so successful. She didn’t let anything, or anyone, interfere with her work. But there was something about Lillian’s quiet confidence that had lodged itself in Rebecca’s thoughts, something that made it difficult to push the encounter aside as just another anonymous moment.
In the OR, Rebecca was in her element. The sterile environment, the hum of machinery, the soft murmur of her team—it all felt like home. Here, she had complete control. Every movement was calculated, every decision precise. But even as she made the first incision, her hands steady and sure, her mind betrayed her once again.
Lillian’s laugh. The way her lips had curved into a smile when Rebecca had teased her at the bar. The way she had matched Rebecca, beat for beat, throughout the night, never asking for more, never expecting anything beyond what they had shared.
Rebecca pushed the memory aside, her jaw tightening as she focused on the task in front of her. The surgery demanded her full attention, and she would not allow herself to slip. But the thought lingered, a quiet whisper at the back of her mind, reminding her that things were no longer as simple as they had been.
Hours later, the surgery was over, and Rebecca stepped into the hallway, pulling off her surgical cap. The procedure had gone smoothly, just as she’d expected. She should have felt the usual satisfaction that came after a successful surgery, but instead, her thoughts drifted once again to Lillian.
It had been years since Rebecca had allowed herself any real emotional connection. Her relationships had always been brief, casual encounters that meant nothing beyond physical desire. She preferred it that way. No attachments, no distractions. But something about Lillian was different.
Maybe it was the fact that Lillian hadn’t tried to cling to what they’d shared. She hadn’t reached out afterward, hadn’t asked for Rebecca’s number, hadn’t done any of the things women usually did when they wanted more than just a night. Instead, she had walked away, just as coolly as Rebecca had, leaving the encounter behind without a second thought.
Or so it seemed.
Rebecca wondered if Lillian had truly been able to forget that night or if she, too, was battling the same internal conflict. Did she think about it? Did she replay it in her mind the way Rebecca did, even when she didn’t want to?
There was no way to know, and that unsettled her. Rebecca was used to knowing exactly where she stood, both in her personal life and her professional one. But with Lillian, the lines had blurred, and for the first time in a long while, Rebecca felt something she wasn’t accustomed to: curiosity.
She leaned against the wall, glancing at the clock. There was still time before her next meeting, but instead of heading to heroffice, she found herself lingering in the hallway, her thoughts drifting back to Lillian once more.
She hadn’t expected to see her again after that night, certainly not like this. And now, as Lillian’s mentor, Rebecca would be forced to spend time with her, guide her, watch her, and—whether she liked it or not—engage with her.
She had always prided herself on her ability to separate personal desires from professional duties. But the more she thought about Lillian, the more difficult it became to maintain that separation. The encounter hadn’t been planned, and yet, it had happened. Now, Rebecca was left with a choice: maintain the wall between them or let it crack, just a little.
Rebecca straightened, shaking off the thought. She had no time for this. Not now. Not when her career, her reputation, and everything she had built rested on her ability to stay in control.
But as she walked back to her office, her thoughts still tangled in memories of that night, Rebecca couldn’t shake the feeling that control—at least where Lillian was concerned—might be slipping through her fingers.
The week flew by in a blur of surgeries, meetings, and training sessions. For Rebecca, it should have been a routine week, the kind she thrived in—filled with meticulous procedures and controlled environments. But with Lillian as her intern, routine had become something far more complicated. What should have been a normal mentorship now felt charged with unspoken tension. Every time Rebecca caught sight of Lillian in the hallways, every time she saw her scrubbed into surgery or sitting in on rounds, the memory of their night together surfaced, unwanted and unshakable.
Rebecca stood in the OR, her eyes on the monitor as she guided the surgical instruments with practiced precision. Lillian was positioned across from her, observing quietly, her focus intense as she watched the procedure unfold.
“Dr. Harrington, what’s your assessment of the patient’s condition?” Rebecca asked, her tone cool and professional.
Lillian responded quickly, her answer sharp and accurate. “The patient’s aortic valve is severely damaged due to calcification. Surgery is necessary to replace it and restore normal blood flow.”
Rebecca nodded, impressed despite herself. Lillian’s knowledge was solid, and she’d clearly done her homework before scrubbing in. Still, Rebecca found herself keeping a critical eye on Lillian’s every move and word, as if waiting for her to slip up, to show a crack in her composed exterior. But there was none. Lillian was poised, focused, and seemingly unaffected by the personal history they shared.
Rebecca would keep things professional, and Lillian would do the same. But as the surgery continued, Rebecca’s mind wandered, flashes of that night surfacing. She remembered Lillian’s laugh, the way she had confidently matched her in conversation and in bed, the way she had left without asking for more.
