Marianne thought about Sophie, the little girl Isla had saved weeks ago. About the teenager with the pneumothorax. About the construction worker with crush injuries who had walked out of the hospital on his own two feet because Isla had made decisions that no one else would have made.
Those patients were alive because Isla trusted her own judgment over protocols designed by committees who had never held a bleeding artery in their hands. The same judgment the board was now characterizing as recklessness. The same confidence they were framing as arrogance.
It was wrong. It was unfair. It was exactly how institutions protected themselves from accountability.
And Marianne was going to participate in it anyway.
Now she was being asked to formalize that sacrifice. To write the recommendation that would suspend Isla's surgical privileges pending the investigation's conclusion. To put her professional signature on the document that would destroy everything Isla had worked for.
Recommendation: Immediate suspension of surgical privileges pending completion of external review...
The words appeared on the screen, typed by fingers acting without conscious direction. Marianne stared at them and felt something crack in her chest.
She thought about the woman who had held her through breakdowns and confessions. Who had looked at her scars and loved her anyway. Who had whispered "I've got you" in the darkness of so many nights.
That woman was going to receive this document tomorrow morning. Was going to see Marianne's name at the bottom, her signature endorsing the recommendation. Was going to understand that the person she loved had chosen professional survival over loyalty.
The cursor blinked. Waiting.
Marianne finished typing the recommendation, her vision blurred with tears she refused to let fall. Every word felt like a piece of herself being carved away. Every sentence was a betrayal dressed in professional language.
She couldn't defend Isla without exposing their relationship. Couldn't argue too passionately without confirming Shaw's suspicions. Couldn't sacrifice her career without destroying her only leverage to help from the inside.
Or at least, that was what she told herself. The truth was simpler and uglier: she was afraid. Afraid of losing everything she had rebuilt after Riverside General. Afraid of starting over again with nothing. Afraid that her love for Isla wasn't strong enough to overcome her terror of vulnerability.
She printed the document and signed it with a hand that shook.
Then she picked up her phone and texted Isla.We need to talk. Can I come over?
The response came immediately.I already know what the recommendation says. Tasmin told.
Of course she did. Nothing stayed secret in a hospital. Someone would have told her, warned her, given her time to prepare for the official notification.
I want to explain,Marianne typed.In person.
A long pause. Then:Fine.
---
Isla's apartment was dark when Marianne arrived.
The living room lamp cast a single pool of light across the space, illuminating Isla standing by the window with her back to the door. She didn't turn when Marianne entered. Didn't acknowledge her presence at all.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything that had been said and unsaid over the past weeks. Marianne stood in the entryway and looked at the woman she loved and felt her heart breaking in slow motion.
"I tried to protect you." The words came out weak, inadequate. "The recommendation is framed as protectively as possible within the constraints of?—"
"The constraints of what?" Isla's voice was flat, cold. Still not turning. "Your career? Your professional reputation? Your fear of having to start over again?"
"The constraints of what the board will accept. If I had pushed harder, Shaw would have used it as proof that I was compromised. They would have removed me from the process entirely and appointed someone else to write the recommendation. Someone who wouldn't even try to add context or nuance."
"So you're telling me this is the best possible outcome?" Isla finally turned, and the expression on her face made Marianne's breath catch. Not anger. Something worse. Disappointment. Resignation. "That having the woman who claimed to love me recommend my suspension is somehow a favor?"
"I'm telling you I was trying to navigate an impossible situation."
"You were trying to protect yourself." Isla crossed her arms, her posture defensive. "That's what you've always been doing. From the very beginning. Every time I asked you to fight for us, you found a reason why you couldn't. Every time the pressure increased, you retreated into your professional obligations and your careful boundaries."
"That's not—" Marianne's voice cracked.
