Everyone’s gaze had turned toward Olivia, expectation hanging thickly in the silence. Olivia’s mouth felt dry, her throat tight.
“Sorry?” Her voice came out thin and uncertain, unlike herself.
Margaret’s expression softened slightly in patient understanding. “I asked if you had the surgical department’s projected utilization figures for next quarter handy? We were just discussing necessary adjustments.”
Olivia’s gaze fell hurriedly to her notes, a rush of embarrassment and mild panic rising swiftly within her chest. She flipped through pages hastily, eyes flickering across columns of figures that seemed suddenly foreign.
“Um, yes,” Olivia stammered slightly, heart pounding harder, heat rising uncomfortably to her face. She glanced up, her gaze briefly meeting Dr. Reid’s impassive expression. Olivia felt suddenly exposed, inadequate. “Sorry, just a moment...”
She flipped desperately through pages, eyes not landing on anything familiar. Her fingers trembled slightly. Numbers blurred, meaningless ink stains against white paper.
“I- I’m sure I have it here.” Her voice cracked slightly.
The silence around the table thickened. She felt eyes watching her carefully, professionally polite yet quietly assessing. Olivia’s breathing quickened, vision narrowing, panic edging dangerously close.
Margaret’s tone remained gentle but expectant. “It’s all right, Dr. Harrington, if you need a moment.”
“No, ” Olivia said quickly, her voice sharper than intended, anxiety sharpening it into desperation. “I have it. It’s— I just?—”
Her pen slipped through her trembling fingers, clattering loudly against the polished surface of the table, rolling slowly toward Dr. Reid, who reached out calmly to stop it. He glanced at her briefly, eyes coolly detached yet faintly curious.
“I’m sorry,” Olivia whispered, hearing how fragile her voice sounded, how vulnerable.
Her vision blurred again, the boardroom spinning around her. She felt suddenly unmoored, adrift within a dizzying moment of unreality. Olivia’s fingers pressed tightly into theedge of the table, knuckles white, her heartbeat echoing painfully in her ears. The silence in the room grew oppressive and unbearable.
At the back of the room, unnoticed until now, Roz sat, her body leaning forward, eyes fixed intently on Olivia. She’d attended quietly, observing, silently supportive. But now Roz was moving quickly, her chair scraping back urgently.
Olivia barely registered her sister’s movement, still struggling to catch her breath, her head swimming with fragmented thoughts and disconnected fears. She closed her eyes briefly, nausea swirling low in her stomach.
Margaret stood up carefully, concern clear in her voice. “Dr. Harrington, Olivia, are you all right?”
Olivia heard footsteps moving swiftly toward her, and felt a hand grip her shoulder. Roz’s urgent voice broke through.
“Liv? Hey, it’s me.” Roz leaned down, voice low and steady. “I’m right here. Breathe.”
Olivia’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze finding Roz’s face close to hers, concerned. Roz’s touch was steadying, grounding Olivia momentarily.
“I’m okay,” Olivia murmured weakly, attempting a faint smile and failing. Her voice sounded distant, hollow even to herself. “Just light-headed. I’m fine.”
Roz glanced sharply at Margaret Lane. “She’s done for the day.”
Margaret nodded immediately. “Of course. Take care of her, Roz.”
Olivia felt herself being guided upward by Roz’s strong, supportive hands. Her body felt impossibly heavy, her mind still fogged. She glanced around briefly, seeing faces carefully neutral and politely averted, yet clearly concerned beneath the careful masks of professionalism.
She leaned gratefully against Roz, eyes downcast, mortification curling tight in her chest. Her heart pounded roughly, her breathing still shallow and anxious. She’d lost control, right here in front of everyone. The thought churned painfully inside her.
Roz whispered firmly into her ear, guiding her toward the door. “I’ve got you, Liv. Just keep moving.”
As they stepped into the quiet hallway, Olivia drew in a shaky breath, leaning back against the cool wall. Roz stood close, hand still firmly on Olivia’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Olivia whispered softly, eyes stinging suddenly with tears held stubbornly back. “I don’t know what happened.”
Roz’s eyes softened immediately, her voice gentle but firm. “You’re exhausted, Liv. You don’t have to be everything to everyone all the time.”
Olivia nodded slightly, though the words felt impossibly unrealistic. She’d spent years building herself into someone dependable, strong, and unfaltering. To stop now, to show weakness, she wasn’t sure she even knew how.
Roz squeezed her shoulder softly. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
