Your Ms. Cole. The words sent a warm pulse through Isla's chest. "Yes. She is."
Isla thought about the patients she hadn't been able to help. The emergencies she hadn't been called to. The lives that might have been saved if institutional politics hadn't driven her away.
The anger was still there. Would probably always be there. But underneath it was something else. The knowledge that she could make a difference. That her skills mattered. That walking away, however justified, had consequences beyond her own career.
"What about Shaw?"
"Mr. Shaw has been asked to resign." Alexandra's tone suggested this had not been a voluntary departure. "The board felt his approach to risk management was not aligned with the institution's values."
"And those values would be?"
"Patient care first. Accountability second." A pause. "We forgot that for a while. Your case reminded us."
Isla closed her eyes. She wanted to feel vindicated. Wanted to savor the victory of being proven right. But all she felt was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of institutional politics. Tired of havingto justify her existence to people who had never held a dying patient in their hands.
"I need to think about it."
"Of course. Take whatever time you need." Alexandra hesitated. "For what it's worth, Dr. Bennett, I'm sorry. We should have handled this differently from the beginning."
"Yes. You should have."
Isla ended the call and stood in her kitchen, staring at the ruined eggs and wondering what she actually wanted.
---
Marianne found her still standing there fifteen minutes later.
"Everything okay?" She was wearing one of Isla's t-shirts and nothing else, her hair mussed from sleep, her expression soft with the particular contentment of someone who had spent the past three days being thoroughly loved.
"Oakridge wants me back."
Marianne's eyebrows rose. "Already?"
"They reviewed your report." Isla couldn't help the small smile. "Found it compelling."
"Did they now." Marianne moved closer, wrapping her arms around Isla's waist from behind. "And what did you tell them?"
"That I needed to think about it."
"What are you thinking?"
Isla turned to face her, studying the woman who had changed everything. "I'm thinking about what I actually want. Not what I'm supposed to want, or what's expected of me, but what I actually want for my life."
"And?"
"And I think I want to go back." Isla ran her hands up Marianne's arms. "Not because they won, or because I need their validation. But because the work matters. Because there are patients who need me. Because walking away felt like letting them win."
"But?"
"But I don't want to go back to the way things were. Hiding our relationship. Living in fear of institutional politics. Sacrificing everything personal for professional survival."
Marianne's hands found her hips, pulling her closer. "Then don't. Go back on your terms. With conditions."
"What kind of conditions?"
"Transparency. About us. About the systemic issues that created this situation in the first place." Marianne's voice was firm. "If they want you back, they have to accept all of you. Including the parts that make them uncomfortable."
"That's a lot to ask."
