Page 41 of Christmas On Call
Asha thought about Dr. Brown’s words:Would you rather be judged for being authentic, or for being perfect?
She thought about Max, probably at home right now, probably thinking Asha had abandoned her again.
She thought about the little girl inside who just wanted to be loved. Who grew up and pushed her own thoughts and feelings aside.
And she thought about the woman she wanted to be—brave enough to choose love over fear.
Her finger hovered over the signature line.
Then she signed.
Asha Patel, MD
Date: January 15, 2025
The form submitted with a soft electronic whoosh. Asha stared at the confirmation screen, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.
It was done.
She sat in her car in the parking lot of Dr. Brown’s office and let herself cry—not from sadness but from relief. The weight she’d been carrying for weeks, maybe years, maybe her entire life, had finally been lifted.
Her phone buzzed with a confirmation email from HR:
Your relationship disclosure has been received and will be processed within 24 hours. Thank you for your compliance with hospital policy.
Sterile, bureaucratic, completely impersonal. And somehow perfect.
Asha wiped her eyes, started her car, and drove. Not toward home—her apartment with its sterile perfection and crushing loneliness—but toward Echo Park, toward Max’s neighborhood with its colorful houses and chaotic energy.
She parked on Max’s street and sent a text:Can I come up?
The response came immediately:Door’s unlocked.
Asha took the stairs two at a time, breathless by the time she reached Max’s door. She knocked once, then pushed it open.
Max stood in the middle of her living room, barefoot in shorts and an oversized t-shirt, hair loose and messy, eyes red-rimmed like she’d been crying. She looked at Asha with an expression caught between hope and fear.
“Hi,” Max said quietly.
“I filed it,” Asha said, the words tumbling out. “The disclosure. I signed it twenty minutes ago. HR has it. And tomorrow I’m meeting with Harrison to tell him officially, and I—” She stopped, suddenly overwhelmed. “I did it because you were right. Because I can’t keep living like this. Because I love you, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life choosing fear over you.” Asha ran her hands through her dark hair and moved a little closer to place her arms around the woman at the center of it all.
Max’s eyes filled with tears. “You filed it?”
“Yes.” Asha closed the space between them even further, taking Max’s hands in hers. “I’m sorry. For everything I said. For making you feel like you weren’t worth the risk when you’re worth—” Her voice broke. “You’re worth everything, Max. And I’m so sorry it took me so long to prove it.”
Max pulled her close, buried her face in Asha’s shoulder. Asha felt her shaking—laughing or crying or both.
“You might find this corny, but I went to therapy,” Asha continued, her own tears falling now. “Today. For the first time in my life. And I’m going to keep going because I need to figure out how to be a person who doesn’t just exist in perfect control all the time. How to be someone who deserves you. It was fucking fantastic. Why didn’t I go years ago? Why did nobody tell me this?”
“You already deserve me,” Max said fiercely, pulling back to look at her. “You always have. I just needed you to believe it. Do you think this would’ve still happened if we didn’t work Christmas Eve together?”
“Definitely. The penny would’ve dropped sooner or later.” Asha cupped Max’s face in her hands.
“I know I have a lot of work to do. And I know my parents might disown me when they find out, which—” She took a shaky breath. “Which they will, but I’ll figure that out when it comes to it.”
Max kissed her, and it tasted like passion and relief and new beginnings.
They moved to the couch, tangled together.
