Page 60 of Dr. Roz Harrington
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 herface, 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.Samis.”
