Page 36 of The Surgeon's Secret

Lexi set the glass down and adjusted Catherine's pillows, her movements deliberate and gentle. "I want to be here," she said simply. She sat back down, closer to the bed this time. "Besides, I've rearranged my surgeries. I'm all yours today."

Catherine studied Lexi's face—the slight shadows under her eyes, the determined set of her jaw. "You haven't slept, have you?"

Lexi gave a small, dismissive shrug. "I've gone longer without sleep during residency." She reached out and carefully took Catherine's hand, her thumb tracing small circles on her palm. "How's the pain?"

"Bearable," Catherine said, though they both knew it was an understatement. "Lexi, I keep thinking about what happened. About James..." Her voice faltered.

"You don't have to talk about it now," Lexi assured her.

Catherine shook her head slightly, needing to get the words out. "No, I need to say this. When he pushed me, it wasn't intentional—I know that. But it doesn't matter, does it? That's what I keep thinking about. All these years of feeling invisible, of walking on eggshells, and now this." She took a shaky breath. "I told him, you know. I told him I was leaving him… just before this happened.” She sighed. “Why did I stay so long?”

Lexi's eyes filled with a tender understanding that made Catherine feel seen in a way James never had. "Because leaving is hard," Lexi said softly. "Because we're taught to fix things, not abandon them. Because you're a doctor who saves people, and somewhere along the way, you thought you could save your marriage too."

A tear slipped down Catherine's cheek. No one had ever articulated her feelings so perfectly before. "You know me better than anyone," she whispered.

"I pay attention," Lexi replied, gently wiping away Catherine's tear. "I see you. I've always seen you, Catherine."

For a long moment, they sat in comfortable silence. The hospital sounds faded into the background—the beeping monitors, the squeaking wheels of meal carts in the hallway, the distant pages over the intercom. In this quiet bubble, Catherine felt something shifting inside her—fear giving way to resolve.

"Would you mind opening the window?" Catherine asked eventually. "I'd like to feel the air."

Lexi nodded and crossed to the window. As she pushed it open, a gentle breeze filled the room, carrying with it the faint scent of the hospital gardens below.

"Better?" Lexi asked.

Catherine nodded, closing her eyes briefly to savor the fresh air on her face. When she opened them again, she found herself struck by the way the afternoon light illuminated Lexi's profile against the window. There was something so steady about her presence, so reassuring.

"Remember when we first met?" Catherine asked suddenly. "I was so flustered by you."

A smile tugged at Lexi's lips. "I remember. You were wearing that black lace bra."

Catherine felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I meant in surgery the next day," she said, though she couldn't help smiling too.

"That too," Lexi said, returning to her chair. "You were brilliant. The way you handled that bowel resection—I'd never seen anything so precise."

"You noticed that?" Catherine asked, genuinely surprised.

"I notice everything about you," Lexi said quietly. She hesitated before adding, "I also remember thinking how sad you looked when you thought no one was watching."

Catherine's breath caught. All those years of carefully constructed walls, and Lexi had seen through them from the very beginning.

"I'm not sad now," Catherine said, and was surprised to find it was true. Despite the pain, despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead, there was a lightness in her chest she hadn't felt in years. A beginning.

Lexi's expression softened. "Good," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's all I want."

As the afternoon faded toward evening, they talked about small things—hospital gossip, a journal article Lexi had been reading, a patient Catherine had been worried about. Normal things, everyday things, but each conversation thread weaving them closer together. When a nurse came in to check Catherine's vitals, she found them laughing softly over a story Lexi was telling about her disastrous attempt at making soufflé.

"Your color's better," the nurse observed, checking Catherine's chart. "Dr. Bond must be good medicine."

After the nurse left, Catherine found herself watching Lexi as she straightened the items on the bedside table—arranging the water glass, tissues, and call button within easy reach. There was something so intimate about these small gestures of care, something that touched Catherine more deeply than grand declarations ever could.

Later that evening, after the hospital had quieted down and the only sound was the faint beeping of the heart monitor, Lexi sat by Catherine’s bedside again. She looked more at ease now, her posture relaxed as she glanced up from the notebook in her hands.

Catherine turned her head slowly, her hand resting on the blanket. “I can’t believe it’s finally over,” she said softly, the words coming out like a breath she’d been holding for years. “Ending it. I wanted to. So much. But, I was so afraid.”

Lexi looked at her, the soft light from the bedside lamp casting a warm glow on her face. “You made the right choice, Catherine. You deserve to be happy. You’ve been living for him for too long. You need to start living for yourself.”

Catherine swallowed hard, past the lump forming in her throat. “I’m scared, Lexi. I’m scared of being alone. I’ve never really been on my own. But I can’t keep pretending this marriage was anything other than what it was.”

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