“What’s going on?” he asks, folding his glasses and setting them aside. “You don’t usually look this rattled unless you’ve lost a bet to the anesthesiologists.”
His attempt at humor barely grazes me.
“I need to talk to you about something important.”
He leans back. “Alright.”
As a surgeon, I pride myself on clarity. Precision. Confidence.
Right now, every word feels like I’m trying to stitch with trembling hands.
“I need to take a sabbatical.”
Dr. Lin’s brows lift a fraction—almost imperceptibly—but his gaze sharpens. “A sabbatical.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Six months.”For now. Longer if needed.
He steeples his fingers, studying me the way he studies imaging before deciding whether to operate.
“May I ask why?”
Dr. Lin and I have known each other for a long time. He’s my boss and mentor. So, I give him the truth. “My marriage is falling apart. And it’s my fault.”
Lin’s expression shifts, not with surprise, but with quiet understanding. “Rhys, being a surgeon takes a toll?—”
“This isn’t burnout,” I cut in. “It’s…neglect. Years ofit. Jayne’s been carrying everything—our kids, our home, our lives—while I’ve been here. All the damn time. And now she’s breaking. We’re breaking.”
The confession pours out of me like I’ve been holding it behind a dam.
“I keep trying to balance both, and I keep dropping her.” My throat burns. “I’m losing my marriage. And I can’t….” My voice cracks. I force air into my lungs. “I can’t lose her. I can’t lose my family.”
Dr. Lin nods slowly, absorbing every word.
“And I know,” I continue, “that if I keep going like this, I’m going to fail at both my marriage and my job. I need to step back. Reset. Be someone Jayne can count on.”
He takes a moment. Then another. Finally, he leans forward.
“Do you remember your first week as a resident here?” he asks.
It catches me off guard. “I think so.”
“You stayed in the hospital for forty-eight hours straight. I found you asleep on your feet in pre-op.”
Amusement makes my lips curve. “I rememberthat.”
“And when I told you to go home, you refused. You said, ‘I can’t. If I leave now, someone might need me.’” He gives a wry smile. “I knew then that you’d be brilliant. But I also knew it would cost you.”
“You could’ve told me,” I attempt to lighten the moment. “It would’ve saved me a whole lot of Pepto.”
Dr. Lin grins. “That pink liquid is a doctor’s best friend,” he jokes, and then his expression turns somber. “Medicine asks for everything. But it has no idea when to stop taking. It relies on people like you to give until they’re empty.”
I meet his gaze, mulling over my thoughts.
“I’ve watched you for decades, Rhys.” He steeples his hands. “You’ve given more to this hospital than most surgeons give in a lifetime. So, if you’re telling me you need time, all I can say is take it.”
