Olivia shook her head reassuringly, quickly smoothing her hair behind her ears. “I’m fine, Lils. Just the usual busy day. How are you doing over there?”
Lillian hesitated, her eyes flickering downward. “It’s tougher than I expected. The resources, the pressure…I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”
“You absolutely are,” Olivia said, her tone firm with sincerity. “This is what you trained for, and you're more capable than you realize. Take it one patient at a time, okay?”
Lillian offered a tentative smile, visibly bolstered. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that.”
“You’ve got this,” Olivia added before they disconnected.
Alone again, she slumped slightly, feeling the weight of their exchange settle deeper within her.
Back at her desk, Olivia opened an email from her eldest sister Catherine. The words were neat and precise, reporting her latest medical missions in South America as though they were official bulletins. Successes were noted meticulously, and achievements were cataloged proudly. Olivia typed a quick, heartfelt reply, her fingers moving automatically. When she pressed send, she stared numbly at the screen, the neat font swimming slightly before her eyes. Catherine was thriving, changing lives on another continent, while Olivia felt herself drowning quietly in plain sight.
Sunday lunches at their mother Evelyn Harrington’s house felt like subtle interrogations wrapped neatly in tradition. Olivia parked in the familiar gravel driveway, noting Roz’s car already there, slightly angled in defiance, probably parked hastily. Olivia straightened her shoulders, checked her reflection briefly, and stepped into the impressive yet cold family home.
Inside, Evelyn was already seated at the dining room table, scrolling through emails on her phone, an untouched glass of Chardonnay by her side. Roz and Sam sat opposite her—Sam relaxed, one hand resting protectively over Roz’s thigh, Roz leaning into her fiancée with the stubborn ease she’d mastered over the years.
Olivia greeted everyone with practiced warmth. "Sorry I'm late. The hospital?—"
"Busy as always," Evelyn interrupted smoothly, her gaze flickering upward briefly before returning to her phone. "I expect nothing less."
Olivia took her seat, swallowing down the faint sting Evelyn’s clipped tone had left behind. She turned to Roz, forcing brightness into her voice. "How's the wedding planning going?"
Roz rolled her eyes dramatically, earning a playful nudge from Sam. "It's going well, though apparently my choice in flowers is controversial."
"Everything Roz does is controversial," Evelyn murmured lightly, still scrolling, as though discussing the weather. "Including marriage, evidently."
Roz's jaw tightened briefly. "Good to see you're in high spirits today, Mom."
Evelyn ignored the jab entirely, finally setting down her phone and turning her full attention to Olivia. Her gaze softened, but it was edged in something cool and assessing. "Have you heard from Catherine lately, Olivia?"
Olivia nodded automatically. "Yes, she emailed from South America yesterday. The project she's on has expanded, and they're seeing incredible results."
Evelyn's smile, rare and sharp as polished steel, bloomed briefly. "That's Catherine. She always understood exactly how to use her skills most effectively. She would have been Chief of Surgery by now, had she stayed."
The compliment landed like a slap, quiet but deliberate. Olivia shifted uncomfortably. "She's happy there. Doing important work."
"Yes," Evelyn conceded, sipping her wine thoughtfully. "And unlike others, she knows exactly who she is."
Roz bristled visibly, leaning forward. "And the rest of us don't?"
Evelyn waved dismissively, a small, controlled gesture. "You were always determined to defy any expectations set for you, Rosalind. I'm hardly surprised."
Roz’s eyes flashed, but Sam squeezed her thigh gently, silently diffusing the tension. Roz exhaled, clearly swallowing her retort.
Evelyn's focus returned again to Olivia, more direct and piercing. "At least one of you managed to stay the course."
Olivia laughed, the sound perfectly poised. "Someone had to, right?"
But the words settled uneasily inside her chest, sharp as glass fragments. She’d said it lightly, smiling as if it were a joke, but Evelyn's remark resonated quietly and deeply, something small yet impossible to dismiss.
Evelyn nodded in approval, oblivious—or indifferent—to Olivia's discomfort. "Exactly. Stability has its own quiet dignity. You understand that."
Roz opened her mouth, ready to speak, but Olivia quickly shifted the conversation, deflecting smoothly. "Roz and Sam’s plans really are beautiful, Mom. They've put a lot of thought into everything."
Roz glanced gratefully toward Olivia while Evelyn merely raised an eyebrow, unconvinced but no longer interested enough to pursue further debate. "I'm sure," she said simply, lifting her wine again and returning to her phone, signaling the end of the matter.
Lunch continued quietly, punctuated only by brief exchanges, Roz and Sam murmuring softly between themselves, and Evelyn absorbed in her own distant thoughts. Olivia ate mechanically, outwardly composed but inwardly feeling each second of silence like a tiny, mounting pressure.
