Page 53 of Dr. Roz Harrington
“You can’t have both, Rosalind.”
Her mother’s words struck her again like an echo, louder now, taunting her in the stillness. Roz slammed her palm against the steering wheel, the sharp noise jolting her back into the present. She dropped her head forward, resting her forehead against the cool leather.
“It’s not your business.”She had said that to Catherine, but was it true? Every move Roz made was scrutinized, every decision measured against some invisible standard set decades before she was born. Every moment with Sam, every kiss, everytouch—they felt like a rebellion against a system she couldn’t escape.
Her phone buzzed in her coat pocket, snapping her out of her spiral. She tugged it free with trembling hands. It was Olivia.
Olivia:“Roz, where are you? Come back inside. Please.”
Olivia:“We’re worried about you.”
Roz stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the keyboard before she locked the phone again. She couldn’t go back in there. She couldn’t face Catherine’s judgment or Evelyn’s cold calculation. Olivia would mean well—of course she would—but Roz knew better than to lean on anyone. It wasn’t worth the risk of showing too much of herself.
The buzz of her phone returned, this time from a different name.
Sam.
Roz’s stomach twisted. She hesitated before opening the message.
Sam:“Are you okay?”
Three simple words, but Roz’s chest tightened. She could picture Sam’s face so clearly, stern and concerned, those steady blue eyes searching for answers Roz didn’t know how to give. She knew she should reply, reassure Sam, or at the very least keep the door open. But instead, her thumb hovered over the screen, and she locked the phone again, tucking it back into her pocket.
She couldn’t do this. Not now. Not when her whole world was tilting on its axis.
Roz didn’t remember starting the car or pulling out of the driveway, but suddenly she was driving. The winding streets blurred past her, her mind spiraling as she replayed the events of the morning: Evelyn’s cold dismissal, Catherine’s cruel insinuations, Olivia’s soft attempts to defend her.
She had spent years building her walls so high that nothing could get in. But Sam had slipped through the cracks without Roz even realizing it, and now everything felt exposed, raw, and dangerous. She couldn’t shut Sam out completely, not like she wanted to, but she also couldn’t let her all the way in.
Roz gritted her teeth and gripped the wheel harder, the road stretching endlessly before her. She didn’t have a destination in mind, just the desperate need to move. To escape.
Hours later, Roz found herself in her apartment, the front door clicking softly shut behind her. The silence was deafening. She shrugged off her coat and let it fall to the floor, then walked straight into the kitchen. A bottle of wine sat half-finished on the counter from a night she couldn’t even remember. She grabbed it without bothering with a glass and took a long pull, the bitterness burning down her throat.
She leaned against the counter, staring blankly at the darkened city skyline beyond her window. The quiet of her apartment, once a refuge, now felt suffocating. She sank to the floor, knees pulled to her chest, the wine bottle clutched in her hands as if it could somehow hold her together.
Her phone buzzed again. Sam.
Sam:“Roz, talk to me. Please.”
The text was simple, almost pleading.
Roz swallowed thickly, her heart twisting in her chest. Sam was the one person who had been able to get through to her, to see past the armor Roz had spent so long perfecting. And yet, that same vulnerability terrified Roz.
What would Sam say if she saw her like this? The sharp-tongued, confident surgeon reduced to a trembling mess on the kitchen floor, wine bottle in hand.
Roz laughed bitterly, the sound hoarse and hollow in the empty room. “You can’t have both, Rosalind.”Evelyn’s words echoed again, cruel and final.
She’s right,Roz thought bitterly. She couldn’t have Sam without risking everything else. Her career. Her family. Her place in the world she’d fought so hard to carve out for herself.
But as much as Roz tried to convince herself of that, her heart wouldn’t listen. It betrayed her with every beat, whispering Sam’s name in the silence.
Tears slid down Roz’s cheeks, unchecked and unstoppable. She hadn’t cried in years and had sworn to herself she wouldn’t. But now, sitting alone on her kitchen floor with Sam’s unread messages lighting up her phone, Roz let the tears fall.
For the first time in years, she let herself feel it all: the ache, the anger, the longing. And it terrified her.
Somewhere deep down, Roz knew the truth she didn’t want to admit.
She couldn’t push Sam away. Not for long.
