“I am not manipulating you,” Maggie said firmly. “But I understand why you’d question it. Why anyone would question it. The age gap. The attending-resident dynamic. The timing of everything. You know this is real.”
“So what do we do?” Evie asked.
Maggie felt her old instincts kick in—the urge to fix this, to manage it, to create distance until the scrutiny died down.
Then she caught herself.
“We don’t do anything,” Maggie said carefully. “Except trust each other. And trust that what we have is real, regardless of what anyone else thinks.”
“That’s not a strategy,” Evie said.
“No,” Maggie agreed. “It’s faith. Which is harder.”
Evie studied her for a long moment. “You’re not going to suggest we take a break until things die down?”
“I want to,” Maggie admitted. “Every instinct I have is screaming at me to protect you by creating distance. But that’s my fear talking. Not my wisdom. And I’d miss you too much.”
“So you’re just going to… sit with the discomfort?”
“I’m going to try,” Maggie said. “And I’m going to trust you to tell me if it becomes too much. If the gossip gets worse. If Morrison crosses a line. I’m going to trust you to know what you can handle instead of deciding for you.”
Something shifted in Evie’s expression—the doubt easing, replaced by something softer.
“That’s growth,” Evie said quietly.
“Or stupidity,” Maggie replied. “Ask me again in six months which one it was.”
Evie laughed despite herself, then stepped into Maggie’s arms. “They can talk all they want. I know what this is.”
“What is it?” Maggie asked, genuinely curious.
“It’s two people figuring out how to love each other despite every obstacle,” Evie said. “It’s messy and complicated and occasionally terrifying. But it’s ours.”
Maggie held her tighter. “I’m sorry you have to deal with the gossip.”
“I’m not,” Evie said, pulling back to look at her. “Because it means you’re worth fighting for. And I always knew that. Even when you didn’t.”
Later that night, after Evie had fallen asleep, Maggie lay awake thinking about Morrison’s words. About how the gossip would only get worse when she returned to work. About how every interaction with Evie would be scrutinized, every decision questioned. The anxiety spiralling in her head. She was desperate to control it somehow. Desperate to remind herself why she was doing all of this.
Her phone was on the nightstand.
She could text Dr. Chen. Suggest extending the administrative leave. Create more distance. Make it easier on everyone.
Instead, she set the phone face-down and pulled Evie closer.
“I’m staying,” she whispered into the dark. “Even when it’s hard. Even when I’m scared. I’m staying.”
Evie stirred slightly, her hand finding Maggie’s and squeezing once before settling back into sleep.
And Maggie closed her eyes, choosing trust over fear for what felt like the hundredth time that week.
Doctor Kim’s office felt different on day eighteen.
Not the space itself—that was the same warm lighting, same comfortable chairs, same small succulent somehow thrivingdespite being largely ignored. The distinct smell of a pine scented air freshener.
But Maggie felt different.
“You look better, Maggie,” Doctor Kim said as Maggie settled into her usual seat.
