“I know so,” I said. “The way you talk about her—it’s obvious. You look out for her without even realizing it. I mean, yeah, you’re annoying and rude, but you listen. Youcare. You make her feel safe. That’s...rare.”
He smiled then, but it was small, sad around the tips. “Sometimes I think I’m just trying to make up for Keenan.”
“You can’t replace someone. But you can love the ones still here. And you do that so damn well.”
“Careful, Lillian,” he murmured. “You’re starting to sound like you actually like me.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.”
For a while, there was only quiet. Then, out of nowhere, he said, “How did you know that your mom didn’t want you?”
I scoffed. “Because she told me.”
“Seriously?”
I nodded, eyes tracing the shadows across the wall. “I was seven when she said it. Not in anger—just...in exhaustion. Like I was another chore she hadn’t signed up for.”
I could still see it—the pretty vanity mirror in her room I was never allowed in, the smell of her hairspray clouding the air, the pain in my neck from sitting too still.
“I’d just been invited to my first birthday party. She was furious the entire day. When we went shopping for a gift, for an outfit, when she was doing my hair—she complained through all of it. ‘Boy presents are easier to shop for, Lillian.’ ‘Boy clothes are easier to pick out, Lillian.’ ‘Boy hair is easier to brush, Lillian.’ Like my very existence was an inconvenience she couldn’t return.” My voice trembled, but I didn’t stop. “I remember how she yanked the brush through my hair until my scalp burned. I can still feel it—every pull, every sting. After all her huffing and puffing, she met my eyes in the mirror and said it so calmly it almost didn’t sound cruel. ‘I never wanted this, Lillian. I never wanted you, but you came anyway. What am I supposed to do with you?’ Then she smoothed a pink bow into my perfect, painful hairdo and walked out like she hadn’t just rewritten the rest of my childhood. That was the first andlastbirthday party I ever went to. The last time I asked her to do my hair or help me pick an outfit.”
I breathed in shakily, the loft thick and weighted with both our ghosts.
“I wore my brother’s hand-me-downs until I was sixteen and got a job. They didn’t want me to work, so I did it in secret. I used my first paycheck to buy an outfit that was the complete opposite of everything she’d ever made me wear.” I paused. “Oh—right. You already knew that part.” My laugh came out awkward and strangled. “I didn’t tell Sarah to say any of that, by the way. So embarrassing.”
“It’s not embarrassing,” he assured me.
The sweetness in his voice made it hard to keep looking at him. So I looked at the couch cushion instead, forcing myself to keep going.
“The point is that I built my entire life in defiance of her—every choice, every version of myself sculpted out of rebellion. I was obsessed with being her contradiction, obsessed with doing what she wouldn’t, saying what she hated, becoming everything she swore I’d never be. That’s why I wanted to win the hospital initiative so badly,” I admitted. “I don’t feel...deserving of any of this. Of my career. Of my success.”
The words left an acidic taste in my mouth, like I’d said something shameful, something I wasn’t supposed to confess.
“I know it looks like arrogance,” I went on, staring down at my hands. “But really, I’m just overcompensating—feigning confidence so no one notices how much I’m still trying to prove that I’ve stopped chasing validation and started believing in myself. Most of the time, I feel like an impostor walking around in a white coat that belongs to someone else. That belongs to mymother.” I let out a humorless laugh. “I guess I wanted to win because maybe then I could finally think I earned something for the right reasons. That I wasn’t just living in opposition to someone else’s disappointment.”
He didn’t speak right away. His gaze softened, thoughtful rather than teasing, and when he did finally talk, his voice carried no judgment. “I get that,” he said. “When someone spends your whole life telling you who you’re not, it’s hard not to build your entire identity around proving them wrong.”
My throat tightened, but he kept going. “But Lillian, that’s not what you did. You didn’treactto her—youbecamein spite of her. You worked yourself into the ground for years, you studied until your eyes blurred, you graduated early, beat out thousands of applicants for your spot in medical school, got offered afullride. You showed up for every patient who needed you. That’s not defiance—that’s devotion. That’s purpose.”
He tilted his head, his expression somewhere between affection and disbelief. “You really think all that happened because your mother told you not to be a doctor?” He chuckled lightly. “I love you, but your brain is playing tricks on you.”
His smile deepened, but the warmth of it couldn’t stop the next truth from slipping out.
“It sounds simple when you say it like that, but...somewhere in all that rebelling, I still can’t help but wonder if I ever stopped fighting long enough to become anyone real. If I lost track of the person I was supposed to become. She’s been in control for so long, pulled the strings for so long that when they finally snapped, I couldn’t tell where her grip ended and I began. I don’t know if there’s a version of me she didn’t create just to spite her. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know if I’ve ever known.”
His fingers traced my cheekbone, then the corner of my mouth. “I know who you are, Lillian.”
My lips curved despite the sting behind my eyes. “Yeah? Who’s that?”
“You’re aggravating, and difficult, and impossible to reason with. You talk too much, and you never think before you speak. Your mood swings definitely give me whiplash, and you’re stubborn enough to argue with gravity if it dared to pull you in the wrong direction.”
A small, broken laugh slipped out of me, but he wasn’t smiling. His thumb kept moving across my skin.
“But you’re also brave,” he continued. “You walk through fire like it’s a hallway you’ve memorized. You care so deeply it hurts to watch sometimes. You don’t hide from your feelings—you let them swallow you whole. And that’s rare, Lillian. Most people spend their lives running from what you face every day.” Hisvoice dropped to a whisper. “You’re kind. God, you’re so kind. After everything she took from you, you still have this heart that keeps giving. You didn’t let her ruin you. You didn’t let her turn you cold.” His forehead touched mine. “That’s who you are. You just forgot for a while. But I see you. I always have.”
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. His breath mingled with mine, his hands cradling my face like he was holding me together. Maybe he was. My chest burned with everything I wanted to say, everything I couldn’t. So instead, I leaned in and kissed him tenderly—a question whispered against his lips, an answer whispered back—until the gooey mask tangled into my mouth mid-smooch.
