Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dr. Milk Pansa stood outside Phoenix Ridge General Hospital, staring up at the name etched into the glass door. It was nowhere near as large as Oscar Hoppins back in Boston. There weren’t any oversized double doors or frosted film text etched on the walls. Everything was quieter here.

Milk sighed.

This was exactly what she needed.

The doors slid open and she walked in. She paused to glance around.

For a hospital that appeared pretty quaint on the outside, it boasted a rather expansive hallway with bright lights gleaming off of every surface.

A handful of white-coated doctors hurried past her, all talking to each other. No high-end politicians were strutting around the waiting areas, and no one with a little blog was clamoring to interview a world-renowned doctor.

Her father would’ve hated it.

Good thing he’s not here.

Milk didn’t care enough to chuckle. She moved quickly through the corridors, keeping her eyes fixed in front of her. She had no interest in acknowledging passing smiles.

She slowed down.

There hadn’t been a single “Good morning, Dr. Vosbein” as she made her way down the hallway. No one was smiling at her simply because they wanted to be in her father’s good graces.

No one even seemed to recognize her at all.

As strange as it sounded, it felt just perfect. For the first time since she’d set foot in Phoenix Ridge, Milk flashed a real smile.

After years of living as Dr. Vosbein’s daughter, she could finally be just Dr. Milk Pansa. Everything she’d worked for would be seen as her own success instead of something that had been handed to her because she was a famous surgeon’s daughter.

“Good morning,” some smiley-faced nurse said as she walked past her.

Milk ignored the voice, her shoes tapping steadily on the tile as she continued walking. There was nothing anyone could say that she wanted to hear. She hadn’t come here to make friends, and she wasn’t going to get sucked into meaningless conversations.

Not again. Not after what had happened last time.

“Your office will be all the way down the hall. The last door to your right,” Dr. Namtan Tipnaree had told her on the phone when they spoke earlier.

She paused for a second, her hand resting on the doorknob. The plaque on the door read “DR. Milk Vosbein.”

She frowned. She had wanted the anonymity of Pansa, not the renowned surgical name of Vosbein.

Her mind wandered back to Oscar Hoppins, to everything she’d left behind in Boston. That chapter was closed.

Milk twisted the handle and stepped inside.

Everything was plain, just like she’d requested. The office had beige walls and a single, narrow window. A sleek, dark wood desk sat against the wall opposite the door.

Milk’s eyes drifted to the documents stacked neatly on the desk next to the computer.

She’d wanted simplicity, and now she had it. But it wasn’t right. The space felt too impersonal, almost suffocating in its emptiness. She’d thought she’d prefer a more neutral tone—something that would detach her from the memories of her old office at Oscar Hoppins.

Her last office had been filled with warm, rose-colored tones, with bookshelves and framed degrees covering the walls. She’d hated it by the end. It wasn’t hers, only a reflection of her parents’ expectations. Now, staring at the dull beige, she wondered if she’d gone too far. These walls offered no comfort.

Milk pictured herself looking out at the bustling city, the steel and glass shimmering under the sun. She brushed her fingers over the desk’s surface, not thinking, just moving.

Her eyes drifted to the small window. It overlooked the hospital’s courtyard, where a few trees lined the path that led to the patient garden.

She’d asked for change, and that’s exactly what this was.

The door clicked open behind her.

“You settling in, Dr. Vosbein?” a voice asked from the doorway.

Milk frowned. Vosbein.

She turned and saw a young woman, standing there with a tablet. She had scrubs on, her ID badge clipped casually to the front pocket identifying her as Dr. E. Thasorn.

“It’s Dr. Pansa,” Milk said.

The doctor glanced at the door, then stepped inside.

“My apologies.”

Milk nodded. The doctor cleared her throat uncomfortably as she stood in front of Milk.

“Well, great. If you need anything, I’m down the hall. I’m Emi Thasorn, by the way.”

She extended a hand, but Milk didn’t take it immediately. When she did reach out, it was a brief handshake.

“I’ll let you get back to it, then,” she said, then turned and left.

The door closed and the silence returned. Milk didn’t miss the awkwardness. She’d expected it, almost welcomed it.

Small talk never interested her, and she wasn’t planning on changing that now. She moved toward the desk again, dragging her finger along the edges, her thoughts spinning.

Milk sat down, the chair creaking slightly under her weight. She leaned back and stared at the blank wall in front of her.

She’d even changed her name to clarify the start of her new life, but nothing about this place, this room, made her feel any different.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and saw a text from her mom, but didn’t open it. Instead, she tapped on it and hit delete.

Nothing she’d say would be enough to bring back Nicole. Milk’s chest tightened. She shut her eyes and focused on the silence.

The hallway outside remained quiet, with only the occasional muffled conversation echoing faintly through the walls. There were no reminders of her past here, just an empty room and a new job.

Milk closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

This was her fresh start.

There was another knock on the door.

“Come in,” she said.

Dr. Namtan Tipnaree walked inside, clutching a file in her hand. She was immaculately dressed in a pencil skirt, blouse and heels. She was Head of the Hospital and her aura was a lot more imposing. She flashed a wide smile at Milk and walked over, her arms outstretched.

“Milk.” Namtan wrapped her arms around her.

Milk hugged her, smiling right back. Dr. Namtan Tipnaree had been a friend of hers for a long time. Even after being transferred to Phoenix Ridge, she’d stayed in contact with their family.

Milk never found it difficult to talk to her. Perhaps it was the fact that Namtan is still a romantic at heart, unlike Milk, who is a doctor on every count.

“It’s been a while,” she said.

Namtan dropped the file on the desk and leaned against it. Milk didn’t offer any more than that.

“A while?” Namtan chuckled. “I haven’t seen you in…what, five years?”

“It’s been three years,” she said. “How’s Film?”

Namtan’s smile widened. She’d been married to Film for years now, and they had a beautiful daughter named Natalie.

“Film is great, so is Natalie- they grow up so fast- Natalie that is, not Film,” Namtan laughed.

She motioned to the seat behind her, and they both sat down.

“So.” Milk pointed to the file on the desk. “Work.”

“I’ve been looking over a case,” Namtan said, handing it to her. “I would value your opinion on it.”

Milk opened the file and glanced over the details. “I’ll review it in a minute,” she said, snapping it shut.

She hadn’t even unpacked at her new home yet. Work was an escape from her harsh reality, and she wanted to take a moment to acclimatize to the office before getting on cases.

“I just need some time to settle in,” Milk said. “I should be ready for work in an hour or two.”

“That soon?” Namtan asked. “You should get some rest before you jump into the chaos here. Take a day. Then I’ll introduce you to some of the staff you’ll work with.” Her eyes were sharp, assessing. “You’ll fit in well here.”

“I didn’t come here to fit in,” Milk said.

Namtan’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. “I didn’t think you did.”

Milk shifted her weight and crossed her arms.

“Well, I hope you came with some party clothes,” Namtan said.

“Film’s birthday party is coming up, and we’re having a small gathering. You should come.”

She didn’t do gatherings, either.

Namtan raised an eyebrow before Milk could say a word. “Trying to say no? I believe we both know that’s not an option.”

“I’ve missed Natalie,” Milk said. “I can’t wait to see her again. Of course I’ll be here.”

There was a pause, the kind that stretched too long, but neither of them bothered to fill it. Milk was fine with silence. Silence meant no expectations and no questions she didn’t want to answer.

“How’s your father?” Namtan asked.

“You mean Dr. Vosbein?” Milk replied.

“I mean both of your parents, Milk.”

“They’re alive.”

Her voice was sharper than she’d intended. Namtan cocked her head to the side, taken aback by Milk’s response.

Milk didn’t flinch. She didn’t want to discuss them—not with Namtan, not with anyone.

“Want to talk about what’s going on?”

Milk frowned. Namtan was staring directly into her eyes. Maybe she felt she’d get answers in there. She stared right back.

“Nothing is going on,” Milk said.

“Come on.” She placed her arms on the table. “Milk Pansa? Really?”

“I’m dropping my parents’ last name. I want to be my own woman,”

Milk stated firmly.

Namtan chuckled. “Fair enough. I know the pressures of a famous surname better than any.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Phoenix Ridge is a bit of a family, you know.”

“I’m not here for family.”

“No friends either?” she asked.

“No attachments,” Milk said flatly.

Namtan tilted her head, as if she was trying to figure Milk out.

Milk wouldn’t budge. Namtan had no idea what she’d been through, and Milk wanted to keep it that way.

“You’ll find it hard to avoid people here,” Namtan said. “The staff is close-knit.”

“I’m here to work. That’s it.”

Namtan’s eyes narrowed.

“You know, I spoke to your parents recently,” she said casually, but Milk caught the shift in her tone. “They mentioned you hadn’t visited in a while.”

Milk’s chest tightened, but she forced her face to stay neutral. She shrugged.

Namtan nodded slowly, watching Milk for a reaction.

Milk could still hear the last argument she’d had with her parents, the way they’d looked at her ex like she was beneath them.

Milk frowned.

She hadn’t stood up for Nicole then, and it had cost her everything.

Namtan didn’t push it. She just let the silence settle for a moment, then smiled again. “Phoenix Ridge is different from other hospitals.”

Why wouldn’t she take a hint? No matter how much she told Milk about this hospital, she had no interest in treating her coworkers like family. The last thing Milk wanted was to get caught in a web of relationships doomed to end badly.

Milk shrugged. Her fingers brushed against the edge of the desk.

“That’s good to know.”

“Milk—”

“I’m here to work,” Milk said, cutting her off.

Namtan chuckled as she rose to her feet. Her eyes softened. “You know, everyone who comes here says that at first. You’ll find it hard to avoid us.”

“I’ll manage.”

Namtan’s gaze flicked to the file on the desk. “You’ll be working closely with Dr. Love Pattranite. She’s one of the best pediatric surgeons we’ve got.”

Milk straightened. “I don’t need a partner.”

“You might feel differently after meeting her,” Namtan said.

“Love’s...special.”

“I’m sure she is,” Milk said flatly. “But I can assure you, I don’t need a babysitter.”

Namtan smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She nodded, her gaze still fixed on Milk.

“You know, Milk, it’s okay to let people in. You don’t have to do everything by yourself.”

“I’m not interested in using this place as therapy.” Milk pressed her lips together, trying to calm her rising irritation.

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” she replied. “But it doesn’t hurt to have someone in your corner.”

“I’m fine,” Milk said.

Namtan smiled again, but her gaze stayed on Milk’s face, watching her too closely. Milk hated this feeling—the sense that someone could see right through her.

After a beat of silence, Milk stood up, heading for the coffee machine.

“Well, you’ll figure it out. You’re a brilliant surgeon, Milk. But brilliance doesn’t have to be lonely,” Namtan pointed out.

Milk didn’t respond. She didn’t need to explain—not to her, not to anyone. She wasn’t here for a pep talk.

“I’ll let you settle in,” Namtan walked to the door. “We’ll catch up later.” She paused by the doorway, looking at Milk once more. “I’m glad you’re here. We all are.”

Milk forced a tight smile. “Thanks.”

Namtan was halfway out the door when Milk called, “Dr. Tipnaree?”

Namtan turned. “Yes?”

“The plaque at the door,” Milk said. “It needs to change. I’m Milk Pansa now.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Namtan smiled. “How much time do you need to get acclimated before I introduce you to the staff?”

“Time?” Milk scoffed. “I’m good to go.”

Chapter Text

Thanks, Bonnie,” Dr. Love Pattranite said as she stepped out of the car.

Bonnie gave her a quick nod before pulling out and disappearing into the morning traffic.

Bonnie wasn’t a full-time driver. She just came on mornings like this when Love needed to get Sophie, her five-year-old, to school before she hurried over to work.

She’d drive herself, but a previous accident had made driving almost impossible for her. Even though years had passed, she still wasn’t willing to risk the life of her five-year-old angel.

The pediatric wing was already buzzing with life when she arrived. The colorful shapes painted on the walls blended with the bright colors of the nurses’ scrubs as they moved quickly through the rooms, their voices mixing with the soft hum of machines and the occasional sound of laughter from the children.

It was a typical Phoenix Ridge energy.

“Morning, Dr. Pattranite,” one of the nurses said.

“Morning, Dana,” Love replied, giving her a quick nod as she passed by. There was something eccentric in the floral and fruitiness of her perfume. It paired wonderfully with the large smile on her chubby face and the delicate flower petals on her scrubs. “How’s Lucy doing?”

“She’s a fighter.” Dana stopped and turned, the curls of her brown hair clinging to her face. “Vitals are stable, but she’s still not eating much.”

Lucy was a six-year-old who’d recently come out of surgery. She’d been saved from a burning house by the Phoenix Ridge Fire Department, and still hadn’t recovered from the shock.

Love frowned. “I’ll stop by her room in a bit.”

“Thanks,” Dana said.

Love moved down the hallway, greeting the rest of the staff and patients as she went. The hospital was like a second home to her. Scratch that—the hospital was family.

It didn’t take much to fall into the rhythm of things. Everything was familiar, from the sound of the pagers to the sterile smell that clung to every surface.

She turned from the hallway and walked into a room. The blue-and cream paint on the walls mimicked overlapping ocean waves and sandy shores.

Her patient, Annie, was on the bed and connected to a CPAP. Annie was a six-year-old with respiratory infection, but she was always as calm as a dove.

They usually matched their patients’ energy to their rooms, and just like the beachfront, Annie’s aura was soothing.

“Hey there, Annie,” Love said, sitting beside her. She watched the girl’s thorax rise and fall as she checked out her chest symmetry and respiratory rate. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better.” Annie shrugged, her golden brown pigtails framing her slightly pale face. “But I don’t like the food here.”

If Love had a penny every time she heard that, she’d have enough to afford a trip to Mars.

She chuckled. “Hospital food isn’t the best, is it?”

Annie shook her head, her lips pulling into a tiny frown.

“I’ll talk to the nurses and see if we can get you something better,” she said. “But you need to eat. Otherwise we can’t let you go home, okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbled.

She glanced at the chart on the end of her bed before standing up.

Annie’s vitals were in order. Love jotted down some details about Annie’s further care plan. “I’ll check on you later.”

“Bye, Dr. Love,” Annie said, giving her a small wave.

She waved back before stepping out of the room. Her rounds continued for the next hour—checking charts, talking to patients, and re-diagnosing. It was the same routine every day, but she never minded it. The kids made it worth the predictability.

On reflex, she checked her phone quickly to see if there were any updates from Sophie’s school. Nothing. Not that she expected there to be anything bad, since Sophie never got into any trouble. She’d been extra excited about school this morning, practically bouncing in her seat when Love had dropped her off. It was hard not to smile when she thought about her. She was the best part of her day, no matter what.

“Everything okay, Dr. Pattranite?” a voice asked behind her.

She turned to see Dr. Emi Thasorn, one of the pediatricians.

Emi was the chattiest of all the doctors at Phoenix Ridge General Hospital. Somehow, she seemed to know everything about everyone, which wasn’t so difficult here. The entire hospital was so tight-knit that secrets were almost impossible to keep. Emi just happened to know a little more than most, to put it nicely.

Love slipped her phone back into her pocket and flashed a quick smile.

“Yeah, just thinking about Sophie.”

“Being a mom is the best, huh?”

“Something like that.” Love smiled and leaned against the counter.

“Any updates on Jackson’s case?”

Emi glanced at the chart in her hand. “We’re still waiting on the latest lab results. Should have them by noon.”

Love nodded. “Let me know as soon as they come in.”

Emi gave Love a quick nod before walking off, leaving her alone in the hallway. Love’s mind wandered back to Sophie again—the way she’d giggled when she kissed her goodbye this morning, and how she’d hugged her tightly before running off to join her friends.

Sophie was her everything, especially since relationships weren’t her strong point. She’d given it a try countless times. Damn, she’d even tried dating apps, hoping to find “the one.” It never ended well, not even with Margo, her last serious girlfriend.

Love sighed.

That was five years ago. She’d long since given up on dating. After having Sophie through an anonymous donor, she’d sworn off relationships and hadn’t looked back.

“Dr. Pattranite,” Dana called. “There’s a patient in room six asking for you.”

She nodded and headed down the hall. The patient, a four-year-old girl with a broken arm, was sitting up in bed, her mother hovering nearby.

“Good morning,” she said, stepping up to the bed. “How’s our little trooper doing today?”

The girl gave her a small smile. Her arm was wrapped in a bright pink cast, and her mother looked relieved to see Love.

“She’s doing better,” she said. “But she’s still in some pain.”

“That’s normal,” Love said, checking the chart. “I’ll adjust her meds. She should be more comfortable in a bit.”

The girl’s mother nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Dr. Pattranite.”

Love smiled and patted the girl’s head, then stepped out into the hallway.

“How’s it going today?” a familiar voice asked.

“I’ve had worse days,” Love said, looking up.

There wasn’t anyone around her, but she could hear two voices chatting through the window next to her. Emi’s voice she recognized at once, but the second voice was a little harder to place.

“Had to cover quite a lot,” Emi was saying. “Good thing we’re going to have an extra pair of hands around here.” The second voice was equally as enthusiastic as Emi’s. “You heard about the new surgeon already? Milk Pansa?”

A new doctor? Love hadn’t heard about that at all.

Oh, well.

“Yeah, she’s a top cardiothoracic surgeon,” Emi said. “But word is, she’s...intense.”

Love shook her head. Intense? That was Cardio Gods for you. She paused, pretending to review a patient’s chart so she could keep eavesdropping.

“Pragmatic is a better word,” the second voice suggested. “All business, no warmth. But she’s good. Real good.”

She frowned. People always liked to make judgments based on rumors. It wasn’t something she paid much attention to. She’d rather see for herself than let hearsay shape her opinion.

She’d hardly taken two steps past the window when she spotted two figures down the hallway. The first, she recognized all too well—Dr. Namtan Tipnaree, the head of the hospital. The second caused her steps to falter.

The woman next to Namtan was striking. Her expression sharp and focused. She had broad shoulders and wore an immaculate white shirt tucked into well-tailored pants. She’d seen plenty of masculine women in her life, but the aura in this one’s stride made her stop and stare. This woman knew she was gorgeous, didn’t care about it at all, and still exuded it. Like her white coat, her brown shoes glinted in the lighting as she took in everything around her like she was analyzing the hospital. There was something about the way she carried herself—confident and distant—that was captivating.

Love’s heart stuttered in her chest. She couldn’t help staring.

The woman was beautiful, but there was something more—something that made her want to stand straighter in her presence, maybe even avoid eye contact completely.

It looked like they were heading to the OR. Love tried to look away when her eyes met the woman’s. Love’s head rattled with thoughts as she stared. She was so caught in her gaze that she forgot to smile. She just stood there and stared at the woman, who didn’t smile either. Could this be the new doctor Emi had talked about?

“Love,” Dr. Tipnaree called out, waving her over. She looked away, suddenly embarrassed. The heat in her cheeks felt like it could burn her skin. “Come along. We could use you.”

Love blinked, trying to shake the awe that had settled over her. She took a breath and walked toward them, feeling the weight of the woman’s gaze as she approached.

“Dr. Pattranite,” Namtan said, turning to the woman. “This is Dr. Milk Pansa, one of the best cardiothoracic surgeons in the country. She will be joining us here at Phoenix Ridge.”

Milk. A fitting name.

Love smiled, trying to settle the nerves inside her. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Pansa.”

The woman’s eyes met Love’s again, but she didn’t smile. Her expression remained unreadable, and her voice was calm as she said, “Likewise.”

Her tone threw Love off. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm either.

Just...neutral. Most people she met at work were quick to either be overly friendly or, at the very least, polite.

One thing felt certain—Emi had been right when she’d called Milk intense. Milk was different. There was a sense of distance, as if she didn’t have time to engage in pleasantries.

Dr. Tipnaree cleared her throat. “We’re going to do some preliminary rounds. Would you join us, Love?”

Love knew Namtan well enough to realize that wasn’t a suggestion.

She nodded. “Of course.”

As they walked, Love found herself stealing glances at Milk. There was no denying her presence. She wasn’t the type of person anyone could ignore, even if they wanted to. The way she moved, her posture—it all spoke of someone who was used to being in control, who didn’t let anything or anyone slow her down.

“So, Dr. Pansa,” Namtan said as they walked. “How’s Phoenix Ridge treating you?”

“Everything seems pretty efficient,” Milk said. “The facilities are well maintained, and the staff appears capable.”

Capable?

Love winced internally at the word. It sounded too detached, as if they were all just parts of a machine that either functioned well or didn’t. But she stayed quiet, not wanting to jump into a conversation.

Namtan, however, didn’t miss a beat. “I’m sure you’ll find the team here more than capable.”

Milk nodded slightly, her attention already back on the case file Namtan had handed her. Love wondered if she cared about things like teamwork or bonding with colleagues.

As they rounded the corner, she kept pace next to Namtan, still too aware of Milk and the spiciness of her perfume.

“How about you, Love?” Namtan asked. “How’s everything in peds?”

“Busy as always,” she said. “But we’ve got some pretty interesting kids in the wards.”

“Patients, you mean,” Milk said.

Love felt a flurry of emotions. First, she hated that the new woman had cut in to call the kids patients in a tone that suggested they didn’t matter. Then again, her voice sounded sonorous, almost seductive, as the words left her lips. She decided it was best to keep her response to the bare minimum.

“I’d rather call them kids.”

Namtan nodded, glancing at Milk. “Love here is a bit of a miracle worker when it comes to the kids.”

Milk didn’t look up from the file. “I’m sure.”

The nurses had painted a picture of someone cold, but it wasn’t that simple. Love could see the way Milk focused, the way she was already in work mode. Maybe she wasn’t cold—just careful. She had walls up, and even though Love had just met her, she wondered why they were so high. They stopped outside the patient’s room, and Namtan turned to Love.

“You’ve been following this case, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, Janet’s been stable since the surgery,” she said, glancing at the door. “But we’re monitoring her closely.”

Milk looked up at the mention of surgery. “What kind of surgery?”

“Complex heart defect,” she said. “We performed an atrial switch a week ago.”

Her eyes flickered with interest for the first time since they’d started walking. Love liked it a bit too much. “And her recovery?”

“Slow but steady,” she said. “We’re keeping an eye out for any signs of complications.”

Milk nodded once, her attention shifting from Love to the door. “I’ll take a look at her.”

Namtan gave her a small smile. “Why don’t you take the lead on this one, Love? I think it’d be good for Dr. Pansa to see your work up close.”

She hesitated for a split second, but then nodded. “Sure.”

When they entered the room, the conversation faded into the background as they approached the bedside. Janet was asleep, her small chest rising and falling in rhythm with the machines. Her mother sat by her side.

“Good morning,” Love said quietly as she stepped up to the bed.

“How’s she doing today?”

“About the same,” her mother said, her voice tired. “She’s still so weak.”

Milk was already looking at the chart, her face a mask of concentration. She didn’t acknowledge the mother or offer any words of comfort or reassurance—she was too focused on the folder in front of her to bother.

Love checked Janet’s vitals as her mother watched with a furrowed brow.

“She’s progressing,” she said calmly. “It’ll take time, but she’s getting there.”

She nodded, her eyes flicking to Milk, who was now examining the surgical site.

“Her recovery looks good,” Milk said. “No signs of infection.” Love glanced at her, surprised by the bluntness. She wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t exactly the reassurance the mother sought.

“We’ll do our best to ensure she’s fine, okay?” Love said.

The mother nodded, although Love couldn’t tell if she believed her. Her pager suddenly went off: STAT SURGERY OR 3

Milk’s went off, too. She moved toward the door, slowed down, and turned to face Love.

“Where’s OR Three?” she asked.

For someone who’d sounded very detached a few seconds ago, she was all too willing to head into an OR and save a life. But then, that’s surgeons for you. Always ready to cut.

Love smiled. “Follow me,” she said.

Chapter Text

The message was brief: 911, OR 3 STAT.

That was all Milk needed.

Dr. Love Pattranite was sexy. Her scrubs didn’t hide her generous curves as she lead Milk to the OR. Milk slowed down, watching the doctor take brisk steps toward the operating room. She was gorgeous. But that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered now was the OR.

She didn’t hesitate as she moved down the hall, her shoes peeling swiftly off the floors. Her mind was zeroed in on the details she’d already memorized—female, six years old, ventricular septa heart defect. The girl hadn’t been prepped for surgery, so now it was a rush. Panic wasn’t something Milk had room for.

As she approached the operating room, the sound of chaos hit her.

Nurses were clustered near the entrance. Behind them, a stretcher barreled down the hall, paramedics pushing it forward. The girl was strapped down, her face pale, the oxygen mask over her small nose and mouth barely moving with the rise of her shallow breaths.

“Coming through!” one of the paramedics shouted as they neared the doors.

The nurses sprang into action, guiding them into the OR prep area. The doors swung open, the bright lights spilling out as the girl was wheeled through.

Milk stepped in and immediately felt eyes land on her. The OR team knew who she was—of course they did. Her name carried weight, so they watched every step she took and every move she made.

Dr. Namtan Tipnaree was already there, scrubbing in. “You ready for this?” she asked without turning around.

“Always,” Milk said, slipping into the gown handed to her by a nurse.

The air in the room was thick with tension. The nurses were attending to the girl’s parents out in the hallway, their frantic voices barely muffled by the door. Milk caught snippets of their pleas.

“Will she be okay?”

“Can’t we be in there with her?”

The nurses worked to keep them calm and explain the process, but it wasn’t enough. The parents were inconsolable.

Milk turned her attention to the girl on the table. Her chest moved unevenly under the layers of surgical drapes, her heart barely managing its rhythm. The lines on the monitors beeped irregularly, each blip a reminder of how little time they had.

A nurse called out the details one last time: ventricular heart defect, left ventricle not functioning properly. Previous surgeries had failed to fix the issue. This was it. Her last chance.

“BP’s dropping,” one of the nurses called out.

Milk moved toward the girl, her gloved hands steady. She could feel the tension in the room grow with each second that passed, but none of it touched her. She blocked it out. All that mattered was the procedure. She could see it all clearly in her head—the incision, the delicate maneuvers, the exact corrections she’d make. It was all laid out, piece by
piece.

“Ready?” Milk asked, her voice cutting through the low murmurs around her.

The anesthesiologist was already by the girl’s head, adjusting the oxygen and taking note of the medicine’s dosage. She glanced at Milk as she moved in closer.

“Dr. Pansa, she’s not stable,” the anesthesiologist said, her voice tight.

“You need to be fast.”

“I don’t plan on wasting time,” she said. Namtan was beside her now, hands up as a nurse prepped her.

“Everything ready?” Namtan asked, glancing at the monitors.

“Close enough,” Milk said. “Let’s get in there.”

The scrub nurse approached with the sterile instruments, laying them out methodically. The rest of the team moved around the room, adjusting lights and checking the monitors, everything happening in sync. But Milk noticed the slight hesitation in their movements—the way they glanced at her, then at each other. She knew what they were thinking. This was her first surgery here, and they were waiting to see if she’d live up to her reputation.

A nurse handed her the scalpel, and its weight felt familiar in her hand.

The lights above were bright, illuminating the girl’s chest and the shallow rise and fall of her breath under the ventilator. Her skin looked almost translucent under the harsh light, with tiny veins visible beneath the surface.

“Let’s go,” Namtan said, her eyes on the girl. “We don’t have much time.”

The scalpel hovered above the girl’s chest, and Milk glanced at Namtan for the briefest of moments. Namtan gave her a quick nod, and then Milk made the first cut. The rest of the team moved in immediately, handing her the instruments she needed without a word.

The heart monitor echoed in the room, each beep a reminder of how little time they had. Milk worked quickly, her hands moving with precision. Her focus was sharp, blocking out everything except the girl in front of her.

“Her pressure’s still dropping,” the anesthesiologist warned.

“Then we move faster,” Milk said, her voice steady.

The room was tense, but she could feel the shift in the team’s focus. They were watching her every move, but now it wasn’t out of doubt. They were falling in line, trusting her to guide them through.

The girl’s heart was exposed now, fragile and small, and Milk’s breath steadied as she began repairing the defect. The room was quiet as the team focused entirely on the task at hand. No one spoke unless it was necessary.

“Clamp,” Milk said, and a nurse handed her the tool without hesitation.

The seconds ticked by in her head, each one bringing them closer to the point of no return. But she didn’t rush. She didn’t allow the urgency of the situation to affect her work. “BP’s stabilizing,” a nurse called out. Milk didn’t acknowledge the update, her eyes locked on the girl’s heart. They weren’t out of the woods yet.

“Okay, we’re almost there,” Namtan said. Her voice was a little more relaxed now.

Milk nodded, but didn’t speak. Her focus remained on the heart, her hands steady as she made the final repairs. Finally, she stepped back, her gloves stained red. Her eyes twitched.

“Close for me,” she said, nodding to a resident, before handing off the tools to the nurse. “And, don’t fuck it up.”

The resident nodded, eager to please her.

She was satisfied she had saved the girl and the final closing up could be done by a lesser surgeon.

The room exhaled, pausing for a second or two before everyone got back to work. Milk watched for a moment. Even though their movements were quicker now that the worst was over, Milk kept her eyes fixed on the monitors, ensuring the steady rhythm of the girl’s heart was no fluke.

She was stable…for now.

Namtan smiled at Milk. “Good work,” she said quietly.

Milk gave her a short nod, her face still expressionless. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dr. Love Pattranite.

Love had been observing it seemed. Milk noticed how her face mask and surgical cap framed her face perfectly. She hated it. Hated that, despite herself, she was noticing how beautiful Love was. Love didn’t seem to belong in the chaos of an operating room, yet she moved with ease.

Milk turned away, clenching her jaw. This wasn’t the time for distractions.

The surgery was over. That’s what mattered.

Without another glance at Love, Milk pulled off her gloves and gown and tossed them into the bin as she left the OR. She moved toward the locker room, already shifting the case into the back of her mind. It was done. The girl was stable, and there was no reason to linger on it. She had no intention of hanging around to chat with the team or get wrapped up in the post-surgery high some doctors embraced.

As she changed out of her scrubs, the thought of Love crept back into her mind despite her best efforts to push it away. Love’s easy confidence was alluring that was for sure. It was easier to avoid these things, easier to walk away and stay distant.

She closed her locker and left the room. As soon as she stepped into the walkway, a blur of movement caught her off guard. The girl’s mother was rushing toward her, tears streaming down her face. Before Milk could react, the woman threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly. Milk stood frozen, her arms hanging awkwardly at her sides.

“Thank you,” the woman said, her voice muffled against Milk’s shoulder. “Thank you so much. She’s my only child.”

Milk stiffened. She wasn’t used to this, much less prepared for it. The warmth of the woman’s touch felt foreign, and she had no idea how to handle the raw emotion spilling out of this stranger.

The woman pulled back slightly, but before Milk could step away, the mother hugged her again, this time with even more desperation. “She’s everything to me. They told me you were the one who saved her life.”

Milk glanced around, her mind racing for what to do or say. She wasn’t built for this. Then, before she could find a way out, Love appeared.

“Ma’am.” Love touched the woman’s arm. “It’s okay. Dr. Pansa gave her best, and your daughter’s out of the woods. She is going to be ok.”

Love was a natural with her. Calm, reassuring, beautiful.

The woman sniffled, looking between them both. “Thank you,” she whispered again, stepping back from Milk, her eyes still wet with tears.

Love gave her a soft smile. “Go get some rest. We’ll update you soon.”

The woman nodded, her expression filled with gratitude, before walking away.

Once the woman was gone, Milk released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She turned to Love, the words ready on her tongue.

“That was uncalled for.”

Love’s lips twitched into a smile. “I didn’t know hugs could be such a problem.”

Milk narrowed her eyes, irritated by the humor in Love’s voice.

“This isn’t the time for jokes.”

Love shrugged, her eyes looking unsure for once and Milk felt mean. “You could’ve said something nice, you know.”

“I’m not here to offer comfort. I’m here to save lives,” Milk said sharply.

Love raised an eyebrow. “Well, you might want to work on your people skills.”

Milk’s face twisted. “Thanks for the advice.”

Before Love could respond, Milk turned on her heel and walked away, leaving no room for further conversation.

Chapter Text

Who does that?

Love hated how rude Milk had been. She had just finished a complex surgery and saved a little girl’s life, and then Love had seen how uncomfortable Milk was with the girl’s mom and had stepped in to save her and all Milk could manage was a blunt “Thanks for the advice,” before walking off like it was as inconsequential as a lunch break, without any acknowledgment of relief.

Love stood by the young girl’s bed in the ICU, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed under sedation.

The lights were dimmer here, but the tension from the OR still lingered in Love’s body.

Milk had been impressive in surgery; there was no denying that. But something about the way she’d handled everything—so detached, so clinical—unsettled Love.

It wasn’t just skill that made a good surgeon. It was the compassion and ability to connect with a patient and share in their family’s concern. There’d been no tenderness, no moment where Milk had stepped back and breathed easier after the girl’s heart started beating steadily again. For her, it was like a checklist—procedure done, move on. But this was someone’s child, not a statistic or a routine.

“How’s she doing?” one of the nurses asked.

“She’s stable,” Love said. “No sign of any complications yet.”

The nurse nodded as she scanned the monitors. “She’s lucky you got in there when you did.”

“It wasn’t me,” Love said. “Dr. Pansa took the lead.”

The nurse gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, I heard about her. Brilliant, but not exactly warm, is she?”

Love didn’t respond to that, though she couldn’t help but agree. She looked at the girl, her small frame swallowed by the sheets. The thought of someone treating her daughter, Sophie, with Milk’s coldness made her stomach turn.

If Sophie were the one lying here...Love shuddered, pushing the thought away. She couldn’t let her mind go there. She had to stay focused and present. Sophie was healthy, and that was what mattered.

She leaned in closer to the girl, running a brief physical examination.

“Vitals are good,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

The nurse hovered nearby. “Her parents are in the waiting room.

They’ve been asking for updates every ten minutes.” Love glanced at the door. “I’ll go talk to them soon.”

The nurse offered her a sympathetic look before leaving the room.

How could Milk not care about this? She seemed to thrive in keeping distance between herself and her patients…and everyone else, for that matter.

Love sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. Maybe that was how some people worked. Still, it didn’t sit right with her. Phoenix Ridge was a place where they cared about their patients, and where every life mattered beyond surgery.

Maybe Milk was brilliant. But what did brilliance mean if you couldn’t even acknowledge the life you’d saved? She watched the girl fight for dear life. Her mother’s words from earlier echoed in her head: she’s my only child.

The door creaked open and a nurse poked her head in. “Dr. Pattranite, do you want me to get the parents now?”

Love nodded.

After she updated the parents and gave them some information about the next steps once their daughter woke up, she decided to give them some time alone. She gave the girl one last look before turning toward the door.

She needed air, needed to step away from the heaviness that had settled in the room.

She walked out, shutting the door quietly behind her. Love made her way to the staff lounge. How could someone be so brilliant yet so distant?

As she entered the lounge, she overheard a group of nurses chatting near the coffee machine.

“Did you see Dr. Pansa in the OR?” one of them asked, eyes wide.

“She’s incredible. Barely broke a sweat.”

Another nurse grinned and added, “She looks like she stepped out of a magazine. If I looked like that, I’d never wear scrubs.”

Love didn’t join in. She grabbed a cup from the counter and filled it with water, ignoring the conversation. She already knew how the staff would react to someone like Milk. It was the same story every time—someone new and beautiful, who was also a surgical genius, instantly became the topic of conversation.

But Love wasn’t interested in gossip. Milk’s beauty bothered her.

And her insides tingled at the thought of her when they should twist in response to her coldness.

She admired Milk’s skill. How could she not? The knowledge in her movements, the exactness in every cut, every stitch—it was remarkable.

But the way Milk had looked through everyone in the room like they didn’t exist...that was hard to swallow.

Love tossed the empty cup in the trash and made her way to Namtan’s office. She needed to clear her head, and part of that meant figuring out how to avoid being around Milk more than necessary.

When she reached Namtan’s door, she knocked once before stepping inside. Namtan sat behind her desk, going through a stack of files.

“Love,” Namtan said without looking up. “Nice work today.”

Love sighed and forced a smile. “I was only doing my job.”

“How’s Sophie?” Namtan asked.

Love smiled. Her daughter, Sophie, was best friends with Namtan’s daughter, Natalie. “Sophie’s good.”

Namtan finally looked up. “What brings you here?”

“I need a change,” Love said, standing in the doorway. “I don’t think I can work with Dr. Pansa.”

Namtan raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

Love crossed her arms. “You’ve seen how she is. She’s...disconnected. There’s no emotion, no acknowledgment of the people she’s saving. It’s like she’s working with robots, not humans.”

Namtan leaned back in her chair. “She’s a surgeon, Love. One of the best in the country.”

“I know that,” Love said, frustration bubbling up. “Her skillset isn’t the issue.”

“Then what is?”

Love hesitated. How could she explain what bothered her when she wasn’t sure? It wasn’t just about Milk’s detachment. It was the way her presence unsettled her, the way she felt drawn to someone so cold and brazen. And that made her more frustrated every time she thought about it.

“She doesn’t connect with people,” Love said finally. “I don’t think she belongs here.”

Namtan sighed, taking off her glasses and rubbing her temples.

“Milk Pansa isn’t a novice, Love. She’s here because I wanted the best for this hospital. And we need you to help her adjust.”

Love’s brows shot up. “Adjust? She doesn’t need to adjust. She’s already operating in this place like she’s been here for years.”

“She needs to learn how we do things here,” Namtan said. “And you’re the best person to show her.”

“Namtan, she doesn’t need me,” Love countered. “She’s not some junior doctor. She’s probably more experienced and capable than anyone else on staff.”

“That may be true,” Namtan said, folding her hands on the desk, “but I still need you to show her around. Make sure she understands how we operate here—beyond just the surgeries.”

Love narrowed her eyes. “You’re really not going to let me out of this?”

Namtan smiled, but it lacked her usual warmth. “No, I’m not.”

Love let out a breath and dropped into the chair across from Namtan’s desk. She hated this. She hated that, despite everything, she admired Milk. There was something about her that was hard to ignore.

She was composed, talented, and devastatingly beautiful, with her dark hair perfectly tied back and her face smooth and sharp, as if she didn’t have a single care in the world.
And that was what bothered Love most. Milk acted like nothing could touch her, like she was above the rest of them, floating through the day with that frigid, unaffected expression.

Love leaned forward, rubbing her temples. “Fine. I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to like it.”

Namtan chuckled softly and picked up her glasses again. “I don’t expect you to like it. I expect you to do your job.”

Love stood up, pushing the chair back with a soft scrape against the floor. “Anything else?”

Namtan shook her head and returned her attention to the files on her desk. “That’s all for now. You’ll be fine, Love. Milk’s tough, but she’ll come around.” Love wasn’t so sure about that. She walked to the door.

“Don’t wait too long to start,” Namtan said, catching her right by the knob. “Milk’s not the patient type.”

Love didn’t respond as she stepped out of the office. Her footsteps trailed down the hall as she walked, anger simmering beneath the surface.

Why wouldn’t Namtan let her work with someone else? There were plenty of other surgeons and plenty of cases. But for some reason, Namtan was determined to pair her with Milk.

She thought back to the surgery, to Milk standing across from her, defiant and collected, like nothing in the world could faze her. It was infuriating. And yet...there was no denying her beauty, from her plump lips to warm, creamy skin that glimmered in the hospital light.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the screen and saw the name of Sophie’s school. Love’s heart skipped a beat as she quickly answered.

“Dr. Pattranite?” the teacher’s voice came through. “Sorry to bother you, but Sophie isn’t feeling well. Can you come pick her up?”

Love checked the time on her watch. She had an hour left on her shift.

“I’ll be there soon. I’m finishing up here in about an hour. Can she wait?”

“She’s resting in the nurse’s office. We’ll keep an eye on her until you get here.”

Love let out a deep breath as she mentally rearranged her day. “Thanks. Can I speak with her?”

There was a brief shuffle before Sophie’s small voice came on the line.

“Mom?”

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“My tummy hurts,” Sophie said softly. “But I’m okay.”

Love’s heart softened. “I’ll be there soon, alright? Just rest for now.”

“Okay.” Sophie paused. “I was playing with Natalie before I got sick.”

Love smiled.

“That’s great, honey. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay. Bye, Mom.”

Love hung up, stared at her phone momentarily, and slipped it back into her pocket. She shook her head and headed back toward her office to wrap up the day.

Just one more hour, and then she could focus on Sophie.

Chapter Text

Milk sat in her office, staring out the window as sunlight filtered in. Her first day at Phoenix Ridge General was almost over, and she was fine. The surgery had gone well, as expected.

The doctors here were competent, though they watched her every move like she was conducting an experiment. That didn't bother her. What did was how they acted after the surgery—relieved, warm, almost celebratory, as though they needed to bond over saving a life.

It wasn't necessary. They'd done their jobs. That should've been enough.

And then there was Love.

Love Pattranite was a good surgeon—more than good. Milk had observed one of her surgeries from the viewing gallery. But after the surgery where she had observed Milk, it seemed like Love had transformed into mush. She'd stayed behind, checking on the patient like a worried parent instead of a professional.

That was amateur. They were there to save lives, not to make emotional investments in patients.

Milk leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. She didn't understand it. Why did everyone here act so...warm? It was unnecessary and, frankly, distracting.

Her phone buzzed on the desk and she glanced down—it was a message from Namtan requesting a meeting in her office. Milk's brows furrowed. She hadn't expected to be summoned so soon after the surgery.

She stood up, straightened her coat, and headed out of her office.

As she walked down the hall, her thoughts drifted back to Love. It was hard not to notice her. That had been a problem since the moment they'd met. Love was beautiful, no doubt about that. Her beautiful eyes, her light brown hair against her face, and the softness of her expression even when she was serious...all of it was stunningly annoying.

Milk didn't want to be distracted by her, so she flung those thoughts to the recess of her mind.

When she reached Namtan's office, she knocked once and then stepped inside. Namtan was behind her desk, shuffling through papers.

"Milk," Namtan said, gesturing to the chair in front of her. "Sit."

Milk sat down, her back straight, waiting for Namtan to speak.

Namtan looked at her. Her eyes were as sharp as they'd been that morning. But there was something different in her expression now. This wasn't about a case. There weren't any open files on her table.

This was personal. Milk braced herself.

"I wanted to talk about what happened in the OR today," Namtan began.

Milk's eyes narrowed. She hadn't made a mistake. She knew that.

"Your skills are unmatched," Namtan continued. "There's no doubt about that. But there's more to this job than just technical skill."

Milk's shoulders tensed. "I'm here to save lives, not socialize."

Namtan leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. "Saving lives is part of it, yes. But you're also working with people—patients, families, colleagues. They're not objects."

"I know that," Milk said, her voice clipped. "But my job is to perform the surgery and ensure the patient survives. I don't see how being friendly makes me a better surgeon."

Namtan sighed and leaned back in her chair. "It's not just about the surgery, Milk. It's about how you interact with the team and the people around you. They need to trust you, and trust doesn't come from skill alone."

Milk's jaw clenched. "They don't need to like me to work with me."

Namtan studied her for a moment, her eyes thoughtful. "This isn't about being liked. It's about creating an environment where people feel comfortable working with you. You need to find a balance."

Milk bristled at the suggestion. She'd spent years perfecting her craft to ensure she was the best. And now, after one day at this hospital, she was being told she needed to change.

"I don't see why it matters," Milk said. "The girl survived. That's the only important thing."

Namtan didn't flinch. "That's important. But how you engage with the team matters, too. People here are used to working with and supporting each other. You need to find a way to fit into that dynamic."

A spark of irritation jostled down Milk's spine. She'd been doing just fine on her own for years. She didn't need to "fit in" with anyone. She took a breath to steady her voice.

"Is this about Dr. Pattranite? She seems...distracted. She's more concerned with emotions than her job."

Namtan raised an eyebrow. "Love is one of the best pediatric surgeons we have. And she cares about her patients. That's not a weakness."

Milk's irritation flared. "It gets in the way. She's too involved. It's not efficient."

Namtan watched her for a moment, silent. Then she shook her head. "You'll have to learn to deal with it."

Milk's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because you and Love complement each other," Namtan said. "You're both brilliant. And yes, you have different approaches, but you balance each other out."

Milk shook her head, frustration building. "I don't need balance. I need someone focused."

Namtan smiled slightly, but there was no humor in it. "Love is focused. More than you give her credit for. She's just focused on more than the surgery itself."

Milk opened her mouth to argue, but Namtan cut her off.

"And that's not a bad thing," Namtan said. "You might learn something from her."

Milk's mouth snapped shut, irritation prickling at her skin. The idea that she needed to learn anything from someone like Love—someone who spent more time talking to patients than in the OR—was ridiculous. She crossed her arms, her gaze hard.

"I'll do the job," Milk said, her tone sharp. "But don't expect me to change the way I work."

Namtan didn't seem fazed. "I'm not asking you to change your skills. I'm asking you to be open to working as part of this team."

Milk pressed her lips together, frustration simmering. She didn't understand why Namtan was pushing this so hard. But arguing wouldn't get her anywhere, and she could tell Namtan wouldn't budge.

"Fine," Milk said finally. "But don't expect me to play nice."

Namtan smiled again, this time more genuinely. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Milk stood, ready to leave, but Namtan's voice stopped her.

"Two more things, Milk."

She turned, waiting.

"Try to remember that these people—your colleagues, your patients—they're more than just bodies to operate on or order around. They're humans. And they deserve to be treated like it."

Milk straightened her shoulders. "The second?"

"Your partner is Dr. Love Pattranite this week."

Milk's stomach turned. Somehow, she'd known this was coming, but it didn't make it easier to hear. "We can work as a larger team. Include other doctors; don't isolate me with her."

"That's not how we do things here," Namtan said. "Collaboration is part of the job."

Milk forced herself to keep her voice steady. "I've collaborated before. I don't have to do it with Love alone. There can be others."

Namtan smiled, but it wasn't the friendly kind. It was the smile of someone who wouldn't change their mind. "Love is one of the best. And she brings what you're missing to the table."

"Empathy?"

"Among other things."

Milk turned abruptly, her patience wearing thin. "Dealing with blood and human tissue doesn't require empathy. Imagine feeling sorry before making an incision."

"Imagine treating people's loved ones on your table like a pound of flesh you're digging through."

"Technically..." Milk cocked her head, but Namtan's raised hand stopped her.

"This isn't negotiable," Namtan said. "You'll be working with Love. And I expect you to learn to work with her, not against her."

Milk clenched her jaw, refusing to respond. There was no point in arguing. Namtan had already made up her mind, and Milk knew when she was facing a wall she couldn't break through.

Without another word, she turned and walked out of the office.

The hallway outside Namtan's office felt too quiet, too empty. Her footsteps echoed in the stillness as she headed back toward her office, her thoughts a mess of frustration. She hated how Namtan had dismissed her concerns, but she hated that she was being forced to work with Love Pattranite even more.

Love was too soft, too concerned with things that didn't matter. Milk had seen it in the way she'd stayed behind after the surgery, checking on the child like she was her mother. That wasn't how you practiced medicine. You did the job and then moved on to the next case. There was no room for attachment, because sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose. Attachment could gnaw at and break you, make you sob in the hallways when a patient passes.

As much as it irritated Milk, something about Love lingered in her mind—her effortless smile and her swiftness during the surgery. She was good, no doubt about that. But that empathy...it complicated things.

Milk stopped before her office door, staring at the handle for a second longer than necessary. She considered, for a brief moment, going back to Namtan and insisting on a different partner. Maybe there was someone else on the team who wasn't so emotionally invested in every single patient.

But she didn't turn around. As much as she hated working with Love, she wouldn't give Namtan the satisfaction of seeing her struggle. She'd deal with it. It wasn't like she had much of a choice, anyway.

She opened the door and stepped into her office, letting the door close softly behind her.

The room was quiet, but her mind wasn't. Thoughts of Love kept creeping in, uninvited. Milk shook her head, trying to push them away. She wasn't here to get distracted by anyone, especially not by a doctor who spent more time talking to patients than focusing on her job.

She dropped into the chair behind her desk and opened the file for her next surgery, forcing her attention back to the one thing that mattered—her work.

But even as she tried to focus, the memory of Love's face returned, that calm expression during surgery and how her eyes lit up when she spoke to patients.

Milk didn't want to admit it, but Love Pattranite rattled her. It wasn't just the way she worked; it was the way she existed in the ward. She was always so sure of herself and so comfortable with people. Milk wasn't like that. She'd never been like that.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from the nurse's station—another case waiting for her. She pushed herself up from the chair, her mind snapping back into focus.

Work. That was all that mattered.

She exited her office, closed the door firmly behind her, and headed toward the OR. The frustration still bubbled under the surface, but she pushed it aside. She had another life to save, and that was the reason she needed to keep moving.

When Milk returned to her office at the end of the day, she recalled the time when her life had been filled with colors and warmth. She hadn't always been like this—distant and cold. There'd been a time when she'd been different. Empathetic almost, just like Love. Back then, she believed in love, in connection. Nicole, her ex, had brought that out in her, made her laugh, made her care.

But all of that changed when her parents refused to give their blessings. They said Nicole wasn't good enough for their daughter.

Milk had lost her love, and it hadn't meant a thing to them. All she had now was her oath to save lives.

Then there was Love. She looked like she had so much more. That had to be the only explanation for why she always seemed so cloyingly cheerful. It had to be more than just her oath that kept her upbeat and caring. Milk shook her head. It should shove those thoughts from her mind.

It didn't work.

Milk sighed. Her thoughts kept returning to the same place—Love Pattranite and those enchanting eyes and the lovely curve of her hips.

Chapter Text

Love stood in the hallway with her phone pressed to her ear. She'd been that way for a little over a minute now. A nurse in pink scrubs passed by, her dark hair tied back in a neat braid, giving Love a quick nod as their eyes met. Love barely registered it, too focused on Namtan's voice in her ear to muster more than a distracted half-smile.

"You'll be partnering with Milk on a series of surgeries, I want you to learn from each other," Namtan said over the phone.

The news wasn't surprising, but it wasn't exactly welcome, either. She tugged at the hem of her scrub top, smoothing the fabric over her waist. Her sneakers shifted slightly against the polished floor as she adjusted the lanyard holding her ID badge.

"You're not going to reconsider?" Love asked. Her grip on the phone tightened as she pressed her lips into a thin line and waited for the response she already knew was coming.

"Milk needs someone who can balance her out. And you need someone who can keep you from melting into your patients."

Love opened her mouth to argue, but stopped. It wasn't worth it. Namtan had already made up her mind yesterday. There was no point in pushing back.

Besides, she couldn't deny that Milk was a brilliant partner. They'd saved a life together. That counted for something, even though Milk acted like the human connection was an unnecessary complication.

"You're certain about this?" Love asked.

"I know it's a good match."

Match. Love hated the word, especially since it sounded almost romantic in her ears. She didn't care for anything that reminded her, even vaguely, of romance.

Love closed her eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I'll make it work," Love said.

"That's the spirit," Namtan said.

She hung up.

Love stood there for a moment, staring at her phone. Milk wasn't her ideal partner, but Love wasn't the type to let personal feelings get in the way of her work.

"The kids come first, always," Love said, finally breaking into a slow walk.

She recalled the day she'd taken her oath. Her moms—one an ex-paramedic and the other a teacher—had wiped happy tears from her cheeks. That day, she swore to do everything possible to ensure that her mothers always had that pride in their eyes.

That was nearly two decades ago. Only one of her moms, now a retired teacher, was alive now. She'd chosen to remain in Boston, but that didn't change Love's oath. Love sighed and took a few steps forward.

Why was she thinking about her moms, again?

Right, Milk.

There was no denying that the thought of spending more time with Milk made her skin tingle, but not in a bad way. Yes, she hated the fact that someone so skilled could be so cold. Still, she was intrigued by it.

Why did she act the way she did? Did something happen in her past? There were too many possibilities, which was one of the things that unnerved Love. Another was how much she noticed while they worked together.

Then again, it was impossible not to notice that Milk was striking. Scratch that, Dr. Pansa was beautiful.

Love took a left once she got to the end of the hallway. The cafeteria was just ahead. She wasn't particularly hungry, but sitting in the company of other doctors and getting her thoughts in order didn't sound like a bad idea.

She donned a smile and let out a deep breath.

The cafeteria was fairly crowded when Love got there. She slowed down at the door and scanned the entire space. Her gaze followed the line of tall windows, which let in just enough light to make the gray walls appear brighter. Her eyes darted across the rows of fluorescent lights overhead, their harsh glow reflecting off the pale tile floors.

She made for the counter and grabbed a cup of coffee. All that was left was finding the perfect spot to sit and brood over her day so far. The dozen square tables were littered with white coats and blue cotton coveralls. That's when she spotted Namtan sitting at one of the tables, waving her over.

Love shot her a weak smile. As much as she loved her boss, Namtan wasn't the first person on her mind right now, but she couldn't just ignore her. Love walked over to join her. A handful of colleagues waved at her as she walked by, and she smiled at them.

"Perfect timing," Namtan said as Love sat down across from her.

"You could've told me you were here," Love said.

"Why?" Namtan asked with a frown. "Would that have changed anything?"

"No, but..." Love paused. Namtan suddenly looked pissed. Love did a double take in her head, wondering what she'd said to piss her off. "Forget I said that."

Namtan held her gaze for a second, still frowning. Then she burst out laughing.

"I'm just messing with you," Namtan said.

"Phew," Love sighed. "You got me."

"You should've seen your face," Namtan said. "I was actually thinking about the surgeries you've got lined up."

Love nodded. "You mean the ones with Milk?"

Namtan smiled, stirring her tea. "Yes, exactly. You two will make such a great team. You balance each other out."

"You've said all that before." Love did her best not to roll her eyes.

She wasn't ready to be drawn into another conversation about Milk, especially not with Namtan. But something about Namtan's laugh told her that it was inevitable.

"Milk is unique," Namtan said. "I think she's one of the best surgeons I've ever seen."

"You think?" Love asked.

"Do I sense some jealousy?" Namtan teased.

Love shrugged, then reached for her coffee again. "I'm not jealous at all. I've seen her work, and I admire her skills."

"But...?"

Namtan left the statement hanging. Love cocked her head, but nothing was forthcoming. Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her.

"But what?" Love asked.

"You tell me," Namtan said. "You sounded like there was a but."

"It's nothing. She's my partner, and I'll work with her. It's the kids who matter."

"See, there," Namtan said. "That's why I want you two working together."

"Oh," Love managed.

Namtan moved her arms excitedly. "Milk is an incredible surgeon. She gets the job done. She just needs to work on how she forgets that there are people behind the cases. That's where you come in."

Love tilted her head, watching Namtan. "And what exactly do you expect me to do?"

"Thaw her out a bit," Namtan said, leaning back in her chair. "Milk's approach works, but she needs someone to remind her that empathy isn't a weakness."

Love frowned, not entirely comfortable with the idea of playing therapist to someone who didn't want it. "I'm not sure she's looking for reminders."

"Probably not." Namtan's eyes twinkled. "But that's why it has to be you. She won't listen to anyone else."

Love let out a sigh and set her coffee cup down. "I'm not going to change who she is, Namtan. And I'm not interested in trying."

"I'm not asking you to change her," Namtan said. "But you're good at what you do, Love. You care. That's your strength. Milk needs to see that there's more to this job than just being technically perfect."

Love's mind wandered back to the surgery on the girl. Milk had been flawless. But it wasn't the first time Love had worked with someone brilliant. It was, however, the first time she'd been so aware of someone inside the OR.

Aware. If she wasn't so bothered about Milk filling her head, maybe she'd have cracked a smile at the thought. Of course she was aware of everyone in the hospital. It was Milk's beauty that remained etched in the back of her mind. That was the unsettling bit.

At least, that was a part of it. She didn't want to be drawn into Namtan's mission.

"You're quiet," Namtan said, pulling Love back into the conversation.

Love blinked, clearing her thoughts. "Just thinking about how this is going to work."

Namtan smiled again. "It'll work. Just give it time."

Love wasn't so sure. But she'd made up her mind to try. If that meant dealing with Milk's coldness, then so be it. She could handle it. She'd find a way to ignore her striking presence. She was almost sure of that.

She sighed. Sitting here wasn't going to help clear her head of Milk. Work would.

"I have to get going now," Love said, standing up. "Work, you know."

"Sure." Namtan smiled.

As Love walked away, her thoughts returned to the surgeries ahead. But no matter how much she focused, a part of her wondered what it would be like to see Milk let down her guard just for a moment. What if Namtan's gamble paid off and Milk warmed up in the OR—and out of it?

What would it be like to see her smile—not because she had to, but because she wanted to?

Love shook her head. The squirming in her belly wasn't a feeling she welcomed. She cleared her throat as she stepped out of the cafeteria, squared her shoulders, and flashed the brightest smile she could muster as she headed for the pediatric ward.

It didn't work. The thought remained with her until after her shift. She sat in the backseat, staring out the window as Bonnie drove to Sophie's school.

"Thinking about work?" Bonnie asked.

Love blinked, turning to glance at the driver's seat. Bonnie's hair contrasted beautifully against her powder blue shirt.

"Not exactly," Love said. "Just enjoying the drive."

Bonnie pulled into the school parking lot and Love stepped out of the car, scanning the neat rows of vehicles. The afternoon sun reflected off the windshields, making her squint as she walked. A sharp burst of laughter reached her ears. She glanced in the direction of the noise. Beyond the low brick wall to her right was the school playground.

Sophie was tucked in a quiet corner with Natalie.

Love still had a smile on her face when grabbed the cool metal handles and pushed open the double doors. Inside, her steps slowed as she took in the colorful posters taped to the walls. They mostly advertised bake sales and field trips.

"Mom!"

Love turned at the sound of Sophie's voice. Her daughter stood a few feet away, eyes wide with excitement. Like hers, Sophie's hair was light brown and pulled back into a simple ponytail, with a few strands falling loose around her face.

Sophie wore a bright yellow shirt with a cartoon rabbit on it and navy blue leggings. She clutched a pencil with SpongeBob grinning up from the eraser end.

Love opened her arms and Sophie ran forward, wrapping her arms around her mother. "I missed you, Mom."

"I missed you, too, sweetheart," Love said, pulling away eventually. "Let me have your bag."

Sophie handed her the pencil first. "Here, Mom," she said, then held out her bag.

Love slid the pencil into the front pocket, noticing how neat her daughter had kept everything inside. Sophie's face was flushed with that excitement Love always saw when her daughter was happy. Her brown eyes shone, just like her own.

"How was your day?" Love asked, brushing a hand gently over Sophie's hair.

"Natalie kept reminding me of her mommy's birthday party. She says I can come."

Love smiled at her daughter's excitement. "We'll see about that. First, let's get you home."

As they walked to the car, Sophie chattered about her day. It was the usual—games, snacks, something funny a classmate did—but then she mentioned the birthday party again.

"Her mom is having a big party," Sophie said. "It'll be so much fun. And she's got two moms."

Two moms. Love wasn't ready for how much that stung. She buckled Sophie into her car seat, listening with the occasional one-worded replies. She wondered, just for a second, what it would be like if Sophie had more than just her. Suppose she had a wife—a partner to share in moments like this, someone to co-parent, to provide love and care from both sides.

The thought lingered as Bonnie drove them home. Love wasn't unhappy with her life. She adored Sophie, and they had a good rhythm. But she wondered what it'd feel like if Sophie had two parents to lean on.

"Mommy, we're home," Sophie said, rousing her back to the present.

Love blinked quickly. She helped Sophie out of the car, picking up her bag and shutting the door behind them. If Bonnie noticed anything strange in Love's musing, she said nothing.

Sophie was too excited to notice any difference in her mother's mood.

"Thanks, Bonnie," she said before they headed up the front path.

"Can we make pasta tonight?" Sophie asked as they walked to the front door.

"Sure thing," Love said, smiling. "But only if you help me."

"Yay!" Sophie bounced on her feet.

"That means you have to freshen up pretty quickly," Love said.

Love unlocked the door, holding it open for Sophie before she stepped inside. She loved the fresh scent of rosemary that hit her as she stepped into the living room. She stopped and scanned the space as she took in the clean lines of the modern furniture—sleek, dark wood pieces and a light gray couch with neatly arranged throw pillows. Everything was in its place. The large windows let in soft light, casting shadows across the polished hardwood floor.

Sophie bounded past her to her room while Love remained standing in the entrance. Her first thought was to sink into one of the couches. She sighed, considering it, when her eyes caught a framed picture of her and Sophie on the mantel. Love's eyes lingered on it for a moment before she pulled her gaze away.

With a quick glance around, Love went to the counter, placed her keys down neatly, and then moved to the living room's low coffee table. She picked up a few papers, sorting them into a neat pile, before glancing toward Sophie's room. She could hear her daughter in there, the sound of drawers opening and closing as she got ready to help with dinner.

With a sigh, Love sank into the couch, her phone propped against a throw pillow. The screen blinked once: Incoming video call from Mom.

She answered the call, and her mother's face appeared.

"You look tired," her mom said, blowing into the coffee mug in her hand.

"Long day," Love said. She leaned back, tucking a cushion under her arm. "Nice cardigan."

"This?" Her mom chuckled, patting her pale blue cardigan. "Thanks, honey."

"How's Boston?" Love asked.

"Cold. But the leaves are stunning right now," her mom said. "You should bring Sophie here for Thanksgiving."

Love chuckled. Her mother would never let them have Thanksgiving anywhere else but in Boston.

"We'll see," Love said. "Traveling for a week with a kid is like packing for a month-long expedition."

Her mom gave a short laugh. "You always manage it just fine."

Love hesitated, glancing toward Sophie's room. She lowered her voice. "Not everything, it turns out."

Her mom's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

Love shifted, the cushion bunching under her elbow. "It's nothing serious. There's a new doctor at the hospital."

Her mom sat up straighter. "New doctor?"

Love sighed, suddenly realizing that it was no use talking about Milk. For goodness' sake, they weren't even friends yet. They were merely colleagues.

"We work together," Love said. "And she's...not the warmest person."

Her mom tilted her head. "And you're drawn to her?"

Love rolled her eyes. "It's not like that. She's brilliant, okay? And frustrating. And gorgeous."

Her mom grinned. "Gorgeous, huh? That's a nice bonus."

"Don't start."

"I'm not starting," her mom said. "I'm just saying it's been a while since you've called anyone gorgeous."

"That doesn't mean anything," Love blurted.

Her mom merely smiled at her with those brown, knowing eyes. They seemed to say Go on, convince yourself.

Love shook her head. "I just don't need the distraction."

"Does she like you?" her mom asked.

"I hope not," Love said. "Or maybe...I don't know, Mom. I'm not talking about her in that sense. We're just colleagues."

"You're allowed to have a life," her mom said.

"But I shouldn't be acting like some teenager around a colleague I've barely spoken to." Love ran a hand through her hair.

"That's the beauty of it all, isn't it?" her mom asked.

"I just want to work and take care of Sophie, Mom."

"You're overthinking this," her mom said. "Do you want me to come down? I could help out, give you some time to figure things out."

Love shook her head quickly. "No. I've got this."

Her mom gave her a long look. "You sure?"

"Yes," Love said.

A door creaked open and Sophie walked into the living room. Her hair was damp, tied back into a small ponytail, and she'd changed into a purple shirt with a bunny on the front. She held a stuffed bear in one hand and looked curious.

Love waved her over. "Come say hi to Grandma."

Sophie climbed onto the couch and sat close to Love. "Hi, Grandma!"

"Hello, my sweet girl," her mom said. Her face lit up and she waved at the screen. "Did you have a good day at school?"

"Yeah!" Sophie said. "We did painting, and I made a picture for Mom."

Love nudged her lightly. "You didn't tell me that."

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Sophie said. "But now it's not."

Her grandma laughed. "That's okay. Surprises are overrated."

Sophie nodded, her focus returning to the screen. "Are you coming to visit us, Grandma?"

Her mom glanced at Love. "Not yet, but maybe soon."

Sophie frowned. "Why not now?"

"Because your mom says she's got everything under control," her grandma said. "And I trust her."

Sophie looked unconvinced. "You should come anyway. Then we can bake cookies together."

Her grandma smiled. "That's tempting. Maybe closer to Christmas."

Sophie brightened at that. "Okay!"

"Alright, you," Love said. "Go start your homework."

Sophie slid off the couch reluctantly, dragging her bear. "Okay, Mom."

When the door to Sophie's room closed, Love turned back to the screen. Her mom's expression had softened.

"She's doing well," her mom said.

"She's great," Love said. "Which is why I can't afford to mess anything up."

"You won't," her mom said. "But don't let fear stop you from trying."

Love sighed. "I know."

Her mom glanced at her watch. "I need to go. But Love, take it slow if you need to. Just don't shut the door before you've opened it."

Love nodded. She wanted to argue that she wasn't starting anything with Milk, but that didn't feel completely honest.

"Love you, Mom."

"Love you, too," her mom said before the call ended.

Chapter Text

Milk sat at her desk in the early morning light, the case file spread open in front of her. The room had the kind of stillness she preferred when preparing for surgery.

She reviewed the details, tracing her finger across the page. The patient, a five-year-old girl with a rare and complicated heart defect, needed immediate intervention. The surgery was risky, but it wasn't anything she hadn't handled before.

She flipped through the pages, making mental notes on the procedure. The diagrams and scan images of the girl's heart and the written recommendations from the cardiologists didn't faze her. It was just another case to solve, another life to save.

But even as she focused on the case, her mind drifted. Not far—just down the hall to Love.

Love had been on her mind more than she wanted to admit. It wasn't just her skill in the OR, though that was undeniable. It was the way Love looked at her, the way her eyes always seemed to linger a second longer than necessary.

Milk liked it.

She loved Love's curiosity and her frequent, almost furtive glances. It made her feel noticed, but not in the way her reputation meant. This was different. She was used to people looking at her with awe or respect—never this. Never more focused on her as a person than a surgeon.

She leaned back in her chair, letting out her breath. This wasn't something she should be thinking about. There was no room for it, not here, not now. She didn't have time for distractions, especially ones that came with feelings she wasn't prepared to deal with.

Milk shook her head, trying to refocus on the case before her. She couldn't let this turn into something more. It was nothing, just admiration for a colleague. That was it. Love was good at her job, and maybe she was a bit softer than Milk preferred, but that didn't mean anything.

She forced herself to look back down at the file. The heart defect needed her full attention, and she wouldn't let her thoughts wander again. But it was harder than she expected.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, pulling her attention away from the file. It was a message from the OR team, letting her know the patient had been prepped for surgery. She stared at her phone, then back at the files. Just a second more and she'd be ready to join them in the prep room.

There was a knock on the door. Milk frowned and looked up. "Who's there?"

"Dr. Pattranite."

Milk swallowed. "Err...come in."

Milk looked up from the file when Love walked into the room. She gave her a brief nod and then turned her attention back to the case notes. The last thing she needed was to get distracted. But as Love settled next to her, flipping through her copy of the patient's file, Milk loved how effortlessly Love moved through her work.

They both stood side by side, going through the detailed notes on the girl's heart defect. Milk focused on the specifics—the abnormal placement of the arteries, the poor blood flow—but part of her attention kept drifting to Love.

Milk wanted to watch her, to see more of how Love interacted with the world. And then, just for a brief moment, she wanted to kiss her.

The thought came out of nowhere, and Milk's pulse quickened. She forced herself to focus on the file again, pushing the thought away. This wasn't the time for distractions.

"Looks like the surgery's going to take a few hours," Love said as she traced a diagram with her finger. "We'll need to be careful around the aorta. One wrong move and it could get tricky."

Milk nodded, trying to keep her mind on the task at hand. "We'll go slow. Precision is key here."

Love glanced at her, and for a second, Milk felt that strange pull again. She swallowed and turned back to the file, mentally bracing herself. She couldn't afford to let her mind wander.

Once they'd reviewed everything, they both stepped out to get ready for the surgery. As they walked toward the OR, Milk noticed the family waiting near the entrance, anxious and fidgeting. It was always the same—parents with wide, frightened eyes clinging to hope and waiting for answers.

Before Milk could say anything, Love walked over to them. Milk watched as she made eye contact with the mother. Love's calm demeanor seemed to have an immediate effect. The parents stopped fidgeting, their shoulders relaxing slightly as Love spoke to them in soft, measured tones.

"The surgery is delicate, but we've got a solid plan," Love said. "Dr. Pansa and I will be doing everything we can to ensure a successful outcome."

The mother nodded, her eyes welling up. "Thank you. She's...she's our whole world."

Love reached out, resting a hand on the mother's arm. "She's in good hands. We've been over the procedure, and we're prepared. I promise we'll take care of her."

Milk stood a few feet away, observing the interaction. Every bit of it felt unnecessary.

Once the family was reassured—or at least when Love felt like they were—she walked ahead of Milk into the prep area. Milk waited for a few more breaths before joining Love in the locker room.

Sure enough, Love was standing by the lockers, pulling her hair into a neat bun.

Love looked over as soon as she entered, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Milk's stomach did something unfamiliar. It didn't help when Love pushed her lips into a smile.

"Hey," Love said.

"Hey," Milk replied. She passed rows of gray lockers, some with personal items visible through cracked doors—shoes, folded scrubs, and jackets. A few lockers were slightly ajar, revealing a mix of belongings, while a pair of surgical gloves lay forgotten on the bench nearby.

Milk didn't stop until she was at the locker near the far end with a nameplate that read Dr. Pansa in bold black letters. She pulled open the door, the metal squeaking slightly, and set her bag inside, next to neatly stacked scrubs.

As they prepped in silence, Milk stole a few glances at Love from the corner of her eye. There it was again—that fluttering in her belly. It wasn't annoyance, though she wished it was just that.

Once they were both suited up, and scrubbed in, they moved into the OR. The girl was already on the table and prepped for surgery. The monitors beeped steadily in the background, and the room was filled with the familiar sounds of an operating room. It was comforting, in a way. Here, there was no room for anything but focus.

Milk stepped up to the table, reviewing the girl's vitals on the screen. Love joined her, standing across the table, her eyes already on the patient. Milk cleared her throat, trying to push aside whatever thoughts had been distracting her.

"Everything looks stable," Milk said, her tone all business now. "We should be able to proceed without any complications."

Love nodded. "It's a tricky procedure, but I think we've got it under control."

Milk appreciated that about Love, even though she wouldn't say it out loud. Once they were in the OR, all the warmth and softness she seemed to carry with her outside vanished. Here, she was steady, competent, and focused.

The girl's heart was fragile, the delicate tissue exposed under the harsh lights of the operating room.

"Careful with the clamp," Love said, her eyes focused on the girl's chest.

Now and then, Love looked up at her, and each time, Milk felt a subtle pull in her gaze.

"Forceps," Milk said, her hand outstretched. The nurse handed it over immediately.

Love worked beside her, adjusting the sutures and monitoring the girl's vitals. The surgery required delicate maneuvering. But they were in sync, as they had been before. Milk was aware of every movement Love made, every slight adjustment. It was comforting, even if she wouldn't admit it out loud.

"BP's holding steady," the anesthesiologist said from the head of the table.

Milk looked up at the monitor, then back down at the girl's heart. "Good. We're almost through the tricky part."

The hours passed in a blur of concentration. Together, they repaired the defect, working with the precision and care the case demanded. By the time they were done, the girl's heart was beating steadily again.

As the team closed up, Milk stepped back, letting the others finish the procedure. She caught a glimpse of Love, still focused, her hands moving carefully as she sutured the incision.

For a moment, she considered saying something more than her usual post-surgery remarks. But instead, she just nodded once. Whatever this was—whatever thoughts she had about Love—it didn't matter. Not here. Not now.

Once the surgery was complete, they left the OR. As they stepped into the hallway, Milk overheard Love talking to the family again. She stood a little off to the side, watching as Love explained the procedure in simple terms, breaking down the medical jargon so the parents could understand.

"The surgery went well," Love said, keeping her voice low and calm. "She's stable now, and we'll be monitoring her closely over the next few days. But everything looks good so far."

The relief on the parents' faces was instant. The mother wiped away tears while the father nodded, his hand gripping his wife's arm tightly.

"Thank you, Dr. Pattranite," the father said.

Love smiled, offering them a gentle nod. "We're happy with the results. She's strong."

Milk stayed where she was, watching the scene unfold. She begrudgingly admired how effortlessly Love could comfort them and how natural it was for her to step into that role. It wasn't something Milk could do. She was good at saving lives, but the emotional side of things wasn't her strength.

After Love finished up with the family, she walked over to Milk. They stood in silence for a moment.

"You handled the surgery well," Milk said.

"Thank you," Love replied, her gaze holding Milk's.

Milk felt that pull again but shoved it aside, reminding herself that this was work. Emotional connections weren't necessary, not here. They had a job to do, and they'd done it well.

Without another word, Milk nodded and walked down the hall, already pushing thoughts of Love out of her mind. It was almost impossible, especially with Love falling in step with her.

Shit.

Chapter Text

Milk was tense. Even for her. Love was certain about that.

It wasn't obvious, but Love noticed the subtle signs—Milk's shoulders pulled tight, her jaw set a little too firmly, and her eyes darting away anytime someone got too close. It was like she had a barrier around her that she kept in place even after they'd left the OR.

Love decided to break the silence. "If you keep frowning like that, everyone will assume that the worst happened in the OR."

Milk looked over at her, eyes narrowing slightly. "I wasn't aware my expression changed the outcome of a surgery."

"It doesn't, unless you count a mother fainting the second you step out of the OR," Love said, shrugging. "But don't worry. They're good now."

Milk opened her mouth to say something, but closed it immediately. Love watched as her eyes shifted ahead as they approached a group in the waiting room. A family was gathered together, hugging and talking in excited whispers. One of the doctors had just given them some good news.

Milk slowed her pace, her gaze lingering on the family. Love noticed her expression soften, just for a moment. She didn't say anything, but it was the first time Love had seen Milk look like she was watching people like that, almost as if she were disconnected from the scene but still curious about it.

There was more to Milk than the ice queen persona everyone in the hospital talked about. Love had suspected as much, but seeing her like this made her even more curious. She wanted to know what made Milk tick and why she kept herself at such a distance from everyone.

But she was also cautious. Getting too close to Milk felt like walking on thin ice, and Love wasn't sure what would happen if it cracked.

Distracted by her thoughts, Love missed a step. Her foot twisted awkwardly beneath her and she stumbled, barely catching herself before falling. A sharp pain shot through her ankle, and she winced, reaching for the wall to steady herself.

Milk was at her side in an instant, her hands firm as she helped Love to the nearest chair. "Are you alright?"

Love nodded, though her ankle throbbed. "I think I just twisted it. Nothing major."

Milk knelt in front of her, her hands gently grasping Love's ankle. Love's breath hitched at the unexpected contact. Milk's fingers pressed against her skin, carefully massaging the area and sending shivers through her. She tried to ignore it, but it was impossible not to react to the warmth of Milk's touch.

"You should be careful," Milk said. "This could've been much worse."

Love swallowed hard, watching Milk's face as she worked. It was beautiful how she concentrated, as if this moment, this small injury, was just as important as the surgeries they performed together. It tightened Love's chest, though she tried to keep her expression neutral.

"I've had worse," Love said, trying to lighten the mood. "I injured it years ago, and it's never been quite the same. It's one of the reasons I don't drive anymore."

Milk looked up, her hands pausing. "You don't drive?"

"Nope," Love said. "Haven't since the accident. My ankle never fully recovered, but I've got a driver."

For a moment, Milk didn't say anything. Her eyes stayed on Love's ankle, her fingers still resting there, and the silence between them felt heavier than it should. Love's heart pounded, her skin tingling where Milk's hands lingered.

Then Milk's gaze slowly moved up, locking onto Love's. There was a spark in her eyes that made Love's breath catch.

Milk's hand slid just a fraction up Love's leg, her touch still gentle, but more deliberate now. Love's throat went dry as the warmth from Milk's hand seemed to radiate through her entire body.

For a second, Love thought Milk might kiss her. The thought flashed through her mind, sharp and undeniable, as Milk leaned just slightly closer, her eyes never leaving Love's.

Love's heart raced, her pulse thudding in her ears. The world around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them.

But then, Milk pulled back. She stood up quickly, her hands dropping away from Love's ankle as if the moment hadn't happened.

"You should stay off that for a bit," Milk said, her tone reverting to its usual neutrality. "Should get some ice on it. I'll get a nurse to check on you."

Love blinked, her mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shift. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak right away. Her ankle still ached, but it was nothing compared to the jolt of electricity that had just passed between them. She couldn't ignore it, even if Milk was pretending nothing had happened.

Milk stood a few feet away now, her posture rigid again, the distance between them reinstated. It was as if she'd shut herself off in an instant and put her cold, professional walls back up.

Love flexed her ankle, testing the pain. "It's not that bad," she said, trying to fill the silence. "I've dealt with worse."

Milk gave her a curt nod. "Still, better to be cautious. You don't want to aggravate it."

"Thanks for helping me," Love said.

Milk finally met her eyes, but just for a second. "It was nothing."

Milk stood back up, the cool professional mask firmly back in place, but Love wasn't about to let it slide. There'd been a shift between them, and she wasn't ready to let Milk retreat into her icy demeanor so easily.

"You know, for someone so good at being cold, you were pretty sweet with my ankle," Love said, leaning back against the chair and watching Milk closely. "Almost had me thinking you cared."

Milk frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "I was just doing my job."

Love smirked. "Oh, come on. If we're going to be working together, you have to learn to take a joke."

Milk's frown deepened. "Is everything a joke to you?"

"Not everything." Love grinned and pushed herself up off the chair, though her ankle still ached. "Just the good parts."

Milk's gaze narrowed, but there was something behind it, a glimmer of something softer. "How are you always so cheery?" she asked, her voice lower now, almost curious. "You walk around with that smile plastered on your face all the time."

Love shrugged casually. "It's the pretzels."

"The pretzels?"

"Yeah," Love said, keeping her expression serious. "Haven't you heard? The cafeteria pretzels are life-changing."

For a second, Milk just stared at her. Then her lips parted slightly. "Pretzels? They're that good?"

Love laughed. Milk's seriousness amused her as much as it surprised her.

"No, it's a joke."

Milk rolled her eyes, but Love noticed her lips twitch, almost as if she was fighting back a smile. It was brief, but it was there. Love found it sweet that Milk tried to keep up her icy exterior. It only made her want to dig deeper, to find out what lay beneath the surface.

"So why are you always so sweet, then?" Milk asked, crossing her arms again, though her tone had softened. "Since it's not the pretzels."

Love swallowed. "You just called me sweet," she said, raising a brow.

"Don't push it," Milk said.

Love shrugged, leaning back against the wall now, feeling a little more comfortable in the conversation. "I guess it's just what I know. Both of my moms were always nice."

Milk's eyes flicked up at that. "Both of them?"

"Yeah," Love said with a smile. "I was raised by two women who knew how to keep things light, even when life got hard."

There was a pause. Milk's eyes shifted slightly and her posture stiffened again. "So they never tried to push you into anything? Never forced you into a career path?"

Love chuckled softly, though her amusement faded when she saw the flash of something—pain?—in Milk's eyes. "No," she said gently, "they didn't force me into anything. They just wanted me to be happy."

Milk didn't respond right away. Instead, her gaze drifted toward the window at the far end of the hall. Love watched her closely, noticing the way Milk's shoulders tensed and her hands clenched at her sides.

Before the silence could stretch too long, Love pushed herself off the wall, her ankle still protesting slightly. "You know what? I think we're done here. My ankle could use a break, and I think we both could, too."

Milk hesitated, but eventually nodded. She started walking ahead, but Love noticed that she slowed just enough for her to keep up.

Love tried not to think too much about everything that'd just happened. Milk had cracked, but only enough to hold a brief conversation. It meant nothing. It definitely wasn't enough to justify the wide smile currently on her face. She glanced at Milk.

Milk's lips were pressed into a thin line as they stepped outside. Her gaze drifted to the sky, watching as the sun dipped lower behind the horizon. For a second, Love thought she might open up more, but then Milk straightened her posture, the cold mask slipping back into place.

"Thanks for getting some air with me," Milk said, her tone cool again, though not unkind.

They walked back inside together, the hum of the hospital surrounding them. Milk stayed quiet beside her, her hands tucked into her coat pockets as they made their way down the hall. There was a stiffness in her posture again, a careful distance that made it clear whatever had almost happened earlier wasn't up for discussion.

Just as they reached the end of the hallway, they ran into Namtan, who was heading toward them with a smile on her face.

"There you two are," Namtan said. "Just the people I wanted to see."

Love raised an eyebrow, glancing between Namtan and Milk, who remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"We're having a small gathering for Film's birthday this weekend," Namtan continued, "and I wanted to extend the invitation to you both."

Love blinked, taken aback by the sudden invitation. "I don't know if I can make it. I've been having trouble getting around lately."

Namtan tilted her head, curious. "Trouble?"

Love shifted her weight slightly, feeling a bit self-conscious about the lingering weakness in her ankle. "I had an old injury flare up, and my driver is usually booked on the weekends. It makes getting out of the house a bit complicated."

Namtan didn't miss a beat. "You can carpool with Milk."

Love's eyes widened and she looked at Milk, who'd been standing quietly beside them. Milk looked up at that, her expression as unreadable as ever, but there was a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

"I...what?" Love managed, her mind racing. The idea of spending more time with Milk, let alone in a car outside of work, felt like a lot more than she was prepared for.

Namtan smiled, clearly pleased with her suggestion. "It makes sense. You two already work together, and Milk drives. It'll be easy."

Milk's lips parted, but no words came out. She seemed as stunned as Love, though she kept her face neutral, eyes flicking briefly to Love before settling back on Namtan.

"I guess that could work," Love said, though the words felt strange on her tongue. She wasn't sure how to navigate this—spending more time with Milk outside of work after everything that had happened earlier. But before she could think of another excuse, Namtan nodded.

"Perfect," Namtan said, clearly satisfied. "It'll be a great chance for everyone to relax outside the hospital. You'll both enjoy it."

Love glanced over at Milk again, her pulse quickening. Milk's eyes met hers, and for a moment, neither spoke. They just stood there, staring at each other.

Chapter Text

The moment Namtan suggested the carpool, Milk's mind started spinning. Spending time with Love outside of the hospital, in a social setting, was the last thing she wanted.

It wasn't that she didn't like Love—she liked her too much, and that was a problem. The kiss they'd almost shared earlier weighed heavily on her mind. It had been unexpected and intense, and everything about it made Milk want to keep her distance.

She could already feel the excuses forming in her head. She could say she was busy, had something else planned, or simply wasn't feeling well. Anything to avoid the party and the awkward situation of driving Love there.

"Milk?" Namtan called.

Milk sighed. There was no getting out of this.

"Sure thing," Milk said. "I'll carpool with Love."

Namtan smiled. "See you around, ladies." She walked off.

"Going home?" Love asked.

Milk turned, suddenly reminded that she was just a breath away from Love. It was the closest she'd been to Love since she'd massaged her ankle.

"I have to go through a couple of files in my office before I'm done with my shift," Milk replied.

"Sounds good," Love replied. "I'm going to spend some time with the new kid in the West Wing before heading home."

Milk almost rolled her eyes, but Love's genuine sweetness stopped her. She stood there for a moment, dreading the idea of socializing with the hospital staff outside of work.

"How about I text you my address so you can pick me up?" Love asked.

"Right." Milk nodded.

Milk waited as Love reached for her phone and handed it over. She punched in her contact information and handed it back.

"There," she said.

"Thank you."

"Okay," Milk said, turning around before she said anything else.

Love didn't stop her. She got to her office, reviewed the files as quickly as possible, and then grabbed her bag and headed out. Unless there was an emergency, her shift was done for the day.

----------

The streets in Phoenix Ridge were littered with smiling faces.

Milk preferred the view in front of her, beyond the sprawling road disappearing into the distance. The mountains were clothed with lush green vegetation. She could almost hear the rush of wind through the trees.

Then, she saw a hint of smoke drifting up into the sky. She blinked, but it was gone. It must be a trick of the light. Either that or she needed to rehydrate.

A large sign by the side of the road caught her eye: Jeanette's Café

A hot latte sounded like a small comfort in a day that had gone off the rails. She stepped inside the café, where the warm smell of coffee hit her immediately. The café wasn't too crowded. There were just a few people scattered around, quietly sipping their drinks or typing on laptops.

Milk walked over to the counter and ordered a latte. The barista, a petite woman wearing an oversized apron, smiled broadly, just like everyone else in the town.

Milk simply took her drink and walked away, picking a seat next to the window.

As she stared outside, a bright red truck gleaming in the afternoon light speeded past. Then another followed. Soon, five trucks were heading in the same direction.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a soft voice said beside her.

She turned to find the petite woman from behind the counter smiling at her. The nametag on the apron read Jeannette. She must own this place.

Milk blinked. "What?"

"The fire department," the barista said, nodding toward the window. "It's one of the gems of Phoenix Ridge. Always ready, always doing something amazing."

Milk gave a clipped nod, not interested in making small talk. "Yeah."

The barista didn't seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm. "You're new to town, right? You should take some time to look around. There's a lot to love here."

"Sorry. Not interested," Milk said, taking a sip of her latte and hoping the conversation would end there.

The barista smiled, undeterred. "You work at the hospital, right?"

Milk raised an eyebrow. "Is it that obvious?"

"You've still got your ID on," the barista said, pointing to the badge hanging from her shirt.

"Oh, that," Milk said. "Yes."

But the barista wouldn't take the hint.

"That's cool. I have a friend who works at the hospital, too. Well, more like a colleague. She drops by now and then. Always so nice and adorable."

Milk's grip on her cup tightened. She didn't care about the barista's colleague, but she nodded politely, hoping that would be enough to end the conversation.

"Her name's Love," the barista continued, oblivious to Milk's growing impatience. "She's got this little girl, too. So sweet. I always think it's a shame she doesn't have someone. You know, like a perfect lady to help raise her daughter. Not that she isn't doing a great job herself, of course. But still, she deserves it."

Milk's chest tightened at the mention of Love. She set her cup down a little too forcefully, the sound causing the barista to pause.

"Please," Milk said firmly. "I'd like to be left alone."

The barista blinked, clearly taken aback. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you."

Without waiting for a response, the barista quickly retreated to the counter, leaving Milk alone at the table. Milk exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the irritation and the uncomfortable swirl of thoughts the conversation had brought up.

Love again. It seemed like no matter where she went, Love was there, lingering in her thoughts and the conversations around her. It was getting harder to ignore, harder to push aside. And now there was the party. She didn't even want to go, but how could she not?

She had to pick Love up.

She took another sip of her latte, staring out the window again. The last fire truck had pulled out, leaving the street quiet once more. Milk tried to focus on the present, on the café, the coffee, anything but the growing tension inside her.

The last thing she wanted was to get involved in a situation she couldn't control. And Love? Love was quickly becoming exactly that kind of situation.

She glanced at her watch. It was time to go home, to escape the thoughts crowding her mind. But the weekend loomed ahead, and with it, the party.

The weekend felt both too close and too far. She dreaded it, but at the same time, a small part of her was curious about what it would be like to spend time with Love outside of work. What was she like in a different setting, away from the OR, outside of the hospital walls?

But Milk didn't dwell on it. She couldn't afford to. She finished her latte, stood up, and headed for the door. She had two days to prepare herself for whatever the party entailed. Two days to get her head straight and remind herself that emotional connections weren't something she could afford.

Not with Love. Not with anyone.

----------

Milk got through those two days by throwing herself into work. Each surgery was a chance to forget. But every night, as she sat alone in her apartment, the silence brought those memories back. She didn't want to feel this way. She didn't want to want Love, but it was becoming impossible to deny.

By the time the weekend arrived, Milk still felt unsettled. She stared at her reflection in the mirror as she got dressed, her hands smoothing down the front of her jacket.

As she drove through the quiet streets, Milk's grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Love had sent her the address the day before. Luckily, her car mapping system was up to date with the Phoenix Ridge road network. Minutes later, she pulled up in front of the house, double-checking the address before texting Love to let her know she'd arrived.

Love's door opened, and there she was, stepping out with a little girl by her side. That must be her daughter. For a moment, Milk just sat in the car, watching them.

Love looked different outside of the hospital—more relaxed, but still so put-together. She wore a simple dress that hugged her figure in just the right way. Her daughter clung to her hand, skipping a little as they walked toward the car.

Milk's chest tightened. The sight of Love with her daughter stirred something deep inside her, something she hadn't expected—longing.

She hadn't felt it in a long time, but there it was, a sharp ache in her chest. She admired Love more than she'd allowed herself to admit. Even now, just watching her, it was hard not to be drawn in.

Love leaned down to say something to her daughter.

Before she could stop herself, Milk stepped out of the car, the sound of the door closing drawing Love's attention.

"You're here early," Love said as she walked up to the car with her daughter in tow.

Milk shrugged, trying to keep her face neutral. "Figured we shouldn't be late."

Love smiled and gestured to her daughter. "This is Sophie."

Sophie gave Milk a shy smile. "Hi."

"Hi," Milk said, glancing at the little girl before looking back at Love. She had to admit that seeing Love with her daughter made her feel oddly at peace. It was nice, in a way she didn't know how to explain.

They stood there for a moment, the quiet hanging between them as Sophie fidgeted by Love's side. Then Love opened the back door and helped Sophie into the car seat, buckling her in before sliding into the passenger seat herself.

Once they were settled, Milk pulled out of the driveway, her eyes flicking to Love in the passenger seat.

"How was your week?" Love asked.

"We work the same cases," Milk said flatly.

"Right." Love nodded, her fingers tapping lightly against her knee. "That was a joke, Milk. That was meant to be a joke."

"Maybe you could've told it better," Milk replied. When Love didn't reply, she sighed. "That was a joke, too."

Milk tried to focus on the road, but it was hard with Love sitting so close.

After a few minutes of silence, Love glanced back at Sophie, who was happily humming to herself in the backseat.

"She's excited about the party," Love said.

Milk nodded again, not trusting herself to say much. She didn't want to get drawn into a conversation that would make this car ride any more complicated than it already was.

But as they drove, Milk found herself stealing glances at Love and the way her smooth legs looked under her summer dress. She could tell Love noticed her glances.

They were halfway to the party when Love suddenly turned to her.

"Are you okay?" Love asked, her brow furrowed slightly.

Milk's grip tightened on the steering wheel, her eyes flicking back to the road. "I'm fine."

But it wasn't true, and Love could probably tell.

Milk wasn't fine. Not with everything that was happening inside her head, not with her thoughts always circling back to Love, to that kiss they'd almost shared. The rest of the ride passed in silence. Milk knew that whatever was building between them couldn't be ignored for much longer.

But right now, all she could do was focus on the road ahead and hope that the party would distract her from the growing feelings she didn't want to face.

Chapter Text

" I like your car," Sophie said.

Love glanced at her daughter with a smile on her face. But Sophie wasn't looking at her. Her eyes were fixed on Milk.

"Glad to hear it." Milk's lips twitched into something that almost resembled a smile.

Sophie grinned, then turned her attention to her stuffed animal, content to play quietly and ignore the adults in the front of the car.

Love could sense Milk retreating into herself, shutting down as soon as the conversation had a chance to grow. It was frustrating. She wanted to know more about Milk and break through that icy wall, but Milk wasn't giving her much to work with.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, the sound of the road filling the car. Love stared out the window.

Finally, Love turned to Milk. "So how do you like it here?"

Milk's eyes stayed on the road, her grip on the wheel loosening just slightly. "The hospital or the town?"

Love chuckled. "You pick."

"Well, I came here to work, so I guess the town doesn't count. The hospital is fine," Milk said.

Did you come here just to work? Love thought. She could almost swear that that wasn't the entire truth. Something must've happened. People didn't just happen to move to Phoenix Ridge. Often they were trying to start again, to escape something. At least, that's what she'd always heard her parents say.

Love didn't push Milk any further, though. Instead, she let the conversation sit for a moment, waiting to see if Milk would offer anything else.

Ten seconds, nothing. Twenty, nothing.

Love shrugged. Perhaps conversation wasn't her strong suit, either. Surprisingly, after a beat of silence, Milk spoke again.

"What about you? Have you been here long?"

Love nodded. "Born and raised. I left for a few years for med school. My moms moved out to Boston, so I lived there for a while before I came back."

"Why? Loved the town that much?"

"Lost one of my moms," Love said. "I came back here, and that was it."

Milk shrugged. "Now you're stuck here."

"Of course not," Love said. "I choose to stay here. It's home."

Love caught Milk wince the second she said home. Could that be it? Could her cold exterior stem from not feeling like she had a real home?

"I'm sorry about your mom," Milk said, her voice softer and more genuine than Love had ever heard it.

"Thanks," said Love.

Milk's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, where Sophie was quietly playing with her toy in the backseat. "It must be nice living here, then."

"It is," Love said, hoping to keep the conversation going. "Phoenix Ridge is a nice place. Quiet for a city, but not too quiet. There's always something to do."

Milk let out a small, dry laugh. "Something to do? Like watch the fire department pull out every afternoon?"

Love blinked, surprised by the humor in Milk's voice. She hadn't expected it, but the sound of it made her smile. "It's a big deal around here, didn't you know?"

Milk glanced at her, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips again. "Remind me to keep that in mind, right at the top of the list of information I'll never use."

Love laughed softly, appreciating the moment of levity. Milk's dry sense of humor caught her off guard, and Love wanted more of it. She wanted to see more of this side of Milk, the side that wasn't all walls and distance.

They drove in silence for a while longer.

It was clear that Milk wasn't one to share personal details easily, but even the small glimpses Love got were enough to intrigue her.

But she couldn't push too hard. Milk wasn't someone who opened up easily, and Love didn't want to scare her away. She had to let things happen naturally and let the conversation grow in its own time.

"Do you miss it?" Love asked after a while.

Milk looked at her again. "Miss what?"

"Wherever you were before. The other places you've worked."

Milk was quiet for a moment, her eyes focused on the road. "Not really."

"Why not?"

"Too many people, too much noise," Milk said. "I was in Boston before this, too, and Phoenix Ridge is quieter. I prefer it that way."

Love nodded, understanding. She could imagine why Milk might prefer the quieter atmosphere of a place like Phoenix Ridge. It matched the way she carried herself—calm, controlled, and always keeping people at a distance.

They fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. The conversation flowed naturally, and for the first time, Love felt like they'd connected. It was small, but it was something. And it made her even more curious about Milk.

They were almost at the party now, and Love could feel the anticipation building. She wasn't sure what the night would bring, but one thing was clear—there was something between them, something that wasn't going away anytime soon.

The drive continued, the quiet rhythm of the car calming Love's nerves. She tried not to think about it too much, but her mind kept wandering back to how close they were. Not just physically, but in a way that had been building slowly.

As they neared the beach house, Milk glanced down at her phone. "The weather app says there's a chance of rain."

Love smiled a little, looking out the window at the clear sky. "Phoenix Ridge is mostly dry this time of year. Storms are rare. It's probably just a glitch."

"Probably," Milk muttered, though she kept her eyes on the road ahead.

The beach house came into view, a huge building with large glass windows facing the ocean. The sound of the waves reached them as they pulled into the driveway, the faint scent of saltwater in the air.

It was one of Love's favorite spots in Phoenix Ridge. The sight of the waves rolling off each other and crashing into the white sand at the shore made her instantly relax.

She turned back to the house, where she could see figures moving inside through the windows.

Namtan's parties were always like this—casual, a mix of friends and colleagues from town. Everyone felt immediately at ease. Well, except Milk.

Love noticed her posture stiffen the moment they stepped out of the car. Milk's eyes merely scanned the scene. She said nothing.

"Love! Milk!" Namtan called.

Her smile was broad as she walked over to them, wrapping her arms around Love in a quick hug.

"Glad you could make it," Namtan said, turning to Milk with a welcoming nod. "Both of you, and Sophie, too."

"Hello, Dr. Tipnaree," Sophie said, bobbing her feet.

"Oh, Sophie! You know you can call me Namtan!" Namtan said, then looked up. "Why don't we all get inside?"

"Sure," Love said.

Namtan led them toward the wooden steps of the beach house. Love walked just behind her with Sophie's little hand tucked in hers. She turned to Milk, who just trudged along with a blank smile on her face.

"Is that Sophie Pattranite?" Film, Namtan's wife, called as they got up the front steps.

"Film!" Sophie ran over and hugged her. "Happy birthday!"

"Thank you, honey." She looked at Love and Milk for a bit, then back at Sophie. "Hey there, Sophie. Natalie's been waiting for you."

"Where is she?" Sophie asked.

"Right inside."

Natalie popped out suddenly- her hair just as vibrant as her two moms. She must've heard Sophie's voice already. Love watched both girls squeal in delight as they hugged each other.

Sophie turned back to Love. "Mom?" she asked.

"Of course, baby." Love smiled and nodded. "Go ahead and play. Just be careful."

The girls barely waited for the response before darting off together, giggling as they disappeared into the house.

"Come in," Film said, stepping aside to let them pass.

Love was immediately taken into the crowd inside. Nearly every face was familiar. A few hellos later, her attention shifted back to Milk.

She stood a few feet away, immaculate in smart pants and a button down shirt that matched her eyes. Clearly this was the Milk Pansa version of casual. Her arms crossed loosely over her chest, her expression guarded. Love could tell this wasn't her scene, and standing by herself only made her stand out more.

Namtan and Film had already moved on to greet other guests. Love thought about walking over to Milk and through the distance that had settled between them since they'd arrived.

"Love! Milk! Good to see you two outside the hospital," Emi said with a grin.

A handful of their colleagues approached, a few of them with their kids in tow.

Love glanced over at Milk, who gave a small nod but didn't seem eager to join the conversation. Love, on the other hand, was quickly pulled into a discussion about work, children, and the chaos of balancing both.

She caught herself ogling, her gaze lingering on how Milk's shiny dark hair caught the light. Love knew this wasn't just attraction, though that was part of it. It was more.

The conversation around her continued, but Love was distracted. Every time she looked up, her eyes found Milk. And every time, there was that same pull, that same curiosity mixed with something deeper

Eventually, Love excused herself from the group, weaving through the crowd as she made her way toward Milk. But just as she was about to reach her, another group of colleagues swarmed in, pulling Love into another conversation.

She glanced over her shoulder, watching as Milk stood by herself. Why would anyone choose to be alone?

The party buzzed around them, lively and cheerful, with kids running past and the sounds of laughter and conversation filling the air.

Milk remained apart from it all, as if she was observing everything but not participating. It made Love want to close that distance even more, to reach out and say something, anything, that would break through the walls Milk had built around herself.

But before she could make her way over, Namtan came up to them again, laughing as she pulled Film into a quick hug.

"Come on, you two! Don't just stand there," Namtan said, her eyes flicking between Love and Milk. "Grab a drink, enjoy yourselves. This is a party, not an OR."

Love laughed, but Milk only nodded. Namtan gave them a playful nudge before disappearing back into the crowd with Film by her side.

Love watched them go, then glanced back toward Milk, who hadn't moved. She wanted to say something and ask if Milk was alright, but before she could, a few kids ran past, laughing and tugging at the hems of their parents' clothes.

Maybe she should just leave her be.

Sophie and Natalie's laughter echoed from somewhere inside the house, their excitement filling the air. Love smiled at the sound, but when she turned to look for Milk again, she was gone.

Love's heart skipped a beat. She scanned the room quickly, her eyes darting over the guests, the children, and the clusters of people standing by the porch. But Milk wasn't there.

Her pulse quickened as she looked around again, finally spotting Milk on the other side of the room, standing near the large window that faced the ocean.

She wasn't talking to anyone, wasn't even trying to mingle. Instead, she stood by herself, staring outside, her posture still and her expression distant.

Love watched from across the room, the sight of Milk alone pulling her in once again. This time, it was impossible to look away. She traced a path down Milk's frame. Even from this distance, she was flawless.

A burst of loud laughter from a nearby group startled her, snapping her attention back to the people in front of her. She turned to see Namtan and Film, their heads thrown back, eyes shining as they shared some joke with their friends. It was the kind of laughter that filled the whole room, the kind that made everyone want to join in.

Everyone except Milk Pansa.

Love sighed, watching Sophie and Natalie emerge from the hallway, only to disappear into Natalie's room seconds later. Seeing how carefree they were made her smile. She loved these moments.

She didn't think she'd ever heard Milk laugh. Not really. A dry chuckle, maybe, but never anything close to what was happening on the other side of the room.

But maybe one day, she would. The thought made her smile.

Chapter Text

Milk stood by the large window, her eyes on the waves rolling in from the ocean.

The steady rhythm of the water calmed her, even as the noise of the party hummed behind her. She never felt comfortable in places like this—crowded with people, chatter filling the air. She wasn't one for small talk, and being surrounded by colleagues outside of work only made it worse.

She watched the ocean for a long time, letting her mind drift. Love, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease. Every time Milk looked at her, Love was smiling, her warm presence drawing people in as if she'd known them all her life.

Milk wasn't surprised, though. Love seemed to have that effect on people.

Milk's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen: Dr. Vosbein. Again. Without thinking, she hit the "ignore" button and slipped the phone back into her pocket. She didn't want to deal with them. Not here, not now.

Her eyes drifted back to Love, who was talking to a group of colleagues, her smile as bright as ever.

Film appeared beside her, holding a drink. "Thought you might need one of these."

Milk glanced at the drink, hesitating for a second before taking it. "Thanks."

Film smiled, her eyes scanning the room for a moment before settling on Milk again. "You don't do these kinds of things, do you?"

"Not if I can help it."

Film chuckled, leaning against the wall next to her. "I figured."

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the party. Milk sipped her drink, grateful for the excuse not to talk. But Film wasn't done with her.

"You've been watching Love all night," Film said.

Milk stiffened slightly. "I look at everyone the same."

Film laughed softly, shaking her head. "Sure, you do."

Milk didn't respond, keeping her eyes on the waves outside the window.

"You know," Film said, "Phoenix Ridge has a way of healing people."

Milk didn't look at her, but her jaw tightened. "Some wounds go too deep."

Film raised an eyebrow, her expression thoughtful. "Maybe. But I've seen it happen before. We get these fires up in the mountains sometimes. They burn through everything—forests, homes, miles of land. It's terrifying how they eat up the landscape like it's nothing."

Milk's gaze flicked to Film, intrigued despite herself.

"But then," Film continued, "the rains come. They pour down on the land for days, and suddenly, the fire's gone. And months later, everything starts to grow back. The land heals."

Milk tilted her head. "Sounds like it's the rain doing the healing, not the town."

Film laughed, for real this time. "Maybe. But sometimes, you just need a little rain to get things started."

Milk glanced at her, trying to decide if there was any truth behind Film's words. She didn't believe in healing, not as Film seemed to. Some scars ran too deep to ever disappear.

Film clapped her on the shoulder, smiling. "Keep looking at Love like that, and the rain might come sooner than you think."

Milk opened her mouth to deny it again, but Film had already turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Milk sighed.

She could handle surgery with a full team watching her every move, but here in a crowd? That was a different challenge. One that Love didn't seem to have. Namtan was moving toward her. Milk rolled her eyes.

Shit.

She didn't want any more introductions, but Namtan didn't seem to care. She was approaching with a curvy blonde in a polka-dotted dress. The blonde had a smile draped across her face that Milk found rather awkward.

She'd say she didn't like the blonde already, but that would be too presumptuous.

"Milk, I wanted to introduce you to Dr. Kingston," Namtan said.

The blonde stepped forward, eyes widening slightly as she took in Milk's face. "Wait, aren't you Dr. Vosbein's daughter?"

Milk stiffened, a tight smile forming on her lips. The woman laughed, apparently not noticing Milk's discomfort. "That's amazing. I can't believe I get to meet a Vosbein in the flesh."

Milk forced a nod, her hand gripping the edge of the table beside her. She hated being compared to her mother and how people always brought it up as if it defined her. She wasn't her mother, and she didn't need to be reminded of her at every turn.

Before the conversation could get more uncomfortable, Namtan smoothly stepped in. "You're speaking to Milk Pansa, one of the best surgeons we have here in Phoenix Ridge."

The woman blinked, clearly taken aback, before offering an awkward smile. "Right, of course."

Milk nodded, grateful for the intervention but still eager to end the conversation. She muttered something polite before excusing herself, stepping away from the group, and heading back to the window.

She peered outside, straining to look at the sky. It was dark; the clouds had rolled in while they were talking. The faint patter of rain began to hit the large windows.

One by one, the guests began to leave, their goodbyes echoing through the house. Milk saw the people Love had been talking to wave goodbye as they walked out the door. Love stood by herself now, her eyes scanning the room, and Milk quickly looked away, pretending to focus on something else.

She was about to step outside to get some air when she was swarmed by Sophie and Natalie. "Dr. Milk!" Sophie said, tugging at her sleeve.

Milk blinked, surprised by the sudden attention. "Hey, girls."

Natalie joined in, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Do you do surgeries, too?"

Milk glanced between the two girls, unsure how to answer. "Yes, I do."

Sophie's face lit up. "That's so cool! What kind of surgeries?"

Milk shifted, trying to find the simplest way to explain. "I work on hearts mostly. I fix them when they're not working right."

Natalie's mouth dropped open. "You fix hearts? Like with tools and stuff?"

Milk smiled despite herself. "Yes, with tools. And stuff."

The girls exchanged excited looks before bombarding her with more questions.

What kind of tools did she use? Was it scary? Did people ever wake up during surgery? As the questions poured in, Milk found herself surprisingly engaged. The kids' enthusiasm was infectious, and though she hadn't expected to enjoy their company, she found herself answering each question with more detail than she usually offered in conversations like these.

Still, now and then, her eyes darted in Love's direction. Love had moved to the side of the room, watching the kids with a small smile on her face. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Milk quickly looked away, her chest tightening in a way that made her uncomfortable.

She returned her attention to Sophie and Natalie, but the awareness of Love's presence lingered, pulling at her thoughts even as she tried to focus on the conversation in front of her. The storm outside was growing stronger, but inside the house, everything felt strangely still—except, of course, when she glanced at Love.

The rain had picked up, hammering against the windows in thick, steady sheets. Milk glanced outside, the sky now completely dark and the storm in full swing. She checked the time, but just as she was about to mention leaving, Namtan appeared, smiling as if she knew what Milk was about to say.

"It's too bad out there to drive," Namtan said, casually wiping her hands on a towel. "You're stuck here for the night. The storm's not letting up anytime soon."

Milk shifted uncomfortably. "I really should—"

But Namtan interrupted her. "Do me a favor. Take the girls upstairs and make sure they didn't turn their room upside down. Film and I are going to tidy up down here." She gave her a small smile, already turning back to the dishes.

Milk opened her mouth to protest, but Sophie and Natalie tugged at her sleeves and pulled her toward the stairs before she could say anything more. She sighed, resigned to her fate, and let them lead her up to the room.

The upstairs hallway was quiet, the sound of the rain muffled as they moved away from the main living area. When they reached Natalie's room, Milk couldn't help but pause at the door. The room was large and elegant, with a high ceiling and wide windows overlooking the storm-tossed waves outside.

The soft lighting gave everything a warm glow, and the walls were painted a calming shade of gray. It was clear that Film and Namtan had spared no expense. Everything looked tasteful—classy, even—but with just the right number of personal touches to make it feel lived in.

The room itself was mostly neat, but there were toys scattered across the floor and a few pillows had been tossed haphazardly onto the bed. A small bookshelf by the window was half-emptied, with books stacked in uneven piles on the floor. A stuffed animal lay on the rug, abandoned in the middle of what looked like a small pillow fort the girls had been building earlier.

Sophie and Natalie ran ahead, laughing as they plopped onto the bed, kicking more pillows off in the process. Milk stood by the door, watching as they began to rearrange the pillows into what was clearly meant to be a castle of some kind.

"You two really made a mess," Milk said, her arms crossed.

Natalie shrugged, a grin on her face. "We're not done yet."

Milk raised an eyebrow. "Namtan asked me to make sure you didn't destroy the place."

Sophie giggled as she grabbed another pillow. "We didn't destroy it. We just...redecorated."

She was just like Love, Milk thought—the same eyes, the same smile, the same lively tone when they were feeling chatty.

Milk sighed and walked farther into the room. She picked up one of the books on the floor, glancing at the cover before setting it neatly back on the shelf. "You need to clean up."

Natalie pouted. "But we're still playing."

Sophie jumped onto the bed, pulling the blankets into their fort. "Just a little longer?"

Milk felt a faint tug of amusement at their pleading faces, but she kept her expression neutral. "Five more minutes. After that, you clean."

The girls squealed with excitement, immediately resuming their fort building. Milk sat down on the edge of the bed, watching them as they scrambled to finish their creation. Despite herself, she found their enthusiasm infectious. The room might have been a bit of a mess, but it was the kind of mess that came from creativity, from the simple joy of being a child.

As the girls worked, Milk's eyes drifted to the window, watching the storm continue outside. It was strange, being here, surrounded by warmth and laughter while the weather raged just beyond the glass. Strange, too, how much her mind kept circling back to Love, who was still downstairs.

"Done!" Natalie declared, snapping Milk out of her thoughts. The girls stepped back, admiring their pillow fort.

Milk glanced at it, impressed despite herself. "Not bad."

Sophie beamed at the praise, but Natalie's grin quickly turned mischievous. "You should help us build another one."

Milk shook her head, standing up. "Not a chance. Time's up."

The girls groaned, but started to pick up their toys and books. Milk bent down to grab a few pillows and stack them neatly by the bed. Despite her earlier reluctance, she found herself enjoying the quiet, simple task of putting the room back in order. It was a welcome distraction from everything else.

As the girls cleaned up, Milk stole one last glance out the window. The storm still raged, but inside, things felt calm. Maybe even peaceful.

Chapter Text

You think the storm will stop anytime soon?" Love asked.

She stood in front of Namtan and Film in the living room. The sight of them cuddling up to each other and exchanging kisses reminded her that it had been ages since she'd experienced anything like that.

Namtan looked up. "Stop? I doubt that."

"I'm sorry, Love," Film said. "But you have to spend the night here."

"I'm sure Sophie won't mind," Namtan added. "She'd be ecstatic to have a sleepover."

Love couldn't decide how to react. She stared back at the couple that had just ambushed her with an unplanned sleepover.

"Besides, I doubt Milk would be willing to drive back during a storm."

Love sighed. She'd completely forgotten that she'd have to go home with Milk. If Milk wouldn't drive, then she was stuck here for the night.

"I guess it's not a big deal," Love said.

It wasn't a completely bad idea. Sophie would love the idea of a sleepover here, just as Namtan had said.

"Perfect," Film said. "We'll just set up a room for you both."

"You both?" Love blinked furiously. "Sophie won't be—"

"Sophie?" Film cut in. "She'll be with Natalie, honey. The room is for you and Milk."

Milk? Love's head spun. Spending the night with Milk wasn't part of the deal. She looked at Namtan, then back at Film. Both women had matching grins on their faces.

"Is that a good idea?" Love said. She racked her brain for an excuse. Even though she couldn't quite define the reason why, she was certain that spending the night with Milk wasn't a great idea, especially since her belly fluttered at the thought.

"Milk doesn't seem like she'd like company while she sleeps," Love said, and immediately regretted it. It made no sense, since she'd never spent a night with Milk before.

"Oh, I'm sure Milk won't mind," Namtan said.

"Besides, it's got a king bed. Plenty of space to share," Film added.

Love gave a quick nod, not sure what to say. If there was anything she was certain of, it was that there wasn't any use trying to change their minds.

"I guess I don't mind," Love said. "After you."

Film led the way down the hall, her arm linked with Namtan's. They laughed quietly together at some joke Love didn't hear. Her mind was too preoccupied with the fact that she'd be with Milk until dawn.

If she was lucky—or unlucky—the bed would be large enough for two people to sleep on without bumping into each other. That was a big if.

She shook her head from side to side, then slowed down, silently reprimanding herself. There was absolutely no need to have the thoughts she was having. It was just a room. Just Milk.

Where was Milk? Love looked around.

Love hadn't seen her since she'd walked upstairs with the girls.

"Here you are. The best guest room in the house." Namtan opened the door with a flourish.

"You mean the only guest room in the house," Film said.

They both laughed. Love merely flashed a smile and stepped inside, taking in the spacious room.

A king-sized bed dominated the center, a wide, low platform covered with white linens that looked soft under the dimmed lighting. Heavy curtains framed the large window, which opened up to a view of the beach, now cloaked in darkness.

There was a quiet luxury about it, the kind that made it easy to forget about the world outside. She could imagine the morning light streaming in, the sounds of the waves, everything bathed in a warm glow...and Milk lying in a corner.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway. She turned to find Milk walking in.

"Just in time," Film said.

Milk scowled. "What for?"

"Your room," Namtan said. "At least, for the night. The storm should abate by morning."

"It should be spacious enough for you and Love," Namtan said.

Love watched as Milk's eyes bulged at Namtan's words.

"Oh," was all Milk said.

She moved to the other side of the room, her gaze shifting to the window as if weighing the view. Even standing at the far end, she commanded attention.

Love sucked in more air.

"It does have quite the view," Love said to no one in particular.

"To nothing that's visible right now," Milk replied. "It's still so dark outside."

"It'll be morning before you know it," Film said.

"Plus, you have good company," Namtan added.

"There's a novel in the drawer beside the bed," Film added. "It's either that or some medical journal; I can't remember anymore."

Namtan grinned, her arm wrapped around Film's waist as she leaned against her. "I hope you both enjoy your stay. We'll be right down the hall if you need anything."

The two walked away, laughing softly, their voices a gentle murmur. The door closed behind them, leaving Love and Milk in the stillness of the room.

Love turned back to the bed. The entire room suddenly felt smaller now that Namtan and Film were gone. Milk still had her eyes fixed on the darkness outside the window.

"Well," Love said, breaking the silence, "looks like it's just us."

Milk gave a slight nod, her gaze returning to Love. "Seems that way."

There was a pause. Love felt her cheeks warm, suddenly aware of the bed taking up most of the room, the reality of sharing it setting in. She crossed her arms, trying to keep her composure.

"I hope you don't mind sharing the bed," she said, her voice light, even though her heart was racing.

Milk shrugged, stepping closer. "It's big enough."

Love took a breath, focusing on keeping herself grounded. "Right. Just...if you're a blanket hog, now's the time to confess."

Milk's lips curved into a small smile, a rare expression on her typically stoic face. "Noted."

The quiet stretched on again. Love's eyes drifted over Milk, taking in the way her hair framed her face. Her eyes drifted to Milk's lips. They were full and undeniably magnetic.

Love tried to focus on the room again, but her heart was beating too fast. When she looked up at Milk, their eyes locked with an odd sense of familiarity.

Was Milk staring at her lips, too? It sure looked like it. Milk's eyes drifted down Love's body. Her skin immediately burned with desire. A sigh unconsciously escaped her lips.

The door creaked open, interrupting the moment. Love couldn't decide if she was elated or disappointed at the distraction.

Sophie and Natalie poked their heads in, eyes wide with excitement. Both girls had their hair wildly tousled.

"Mom, Natalie says she has an extra blanket," Sophie said. "Can we have a sleepover please, please, pretty please?" Sophie's voice was a loud whisper, and she glanced over at Milk, giggling softly.

Love smiled. "Yes, you two go settle down. I'll come to kiss you goodnight in a bit, okay?"

Sophie nodded, grabbing Natalie's hand as they whispered and laughed, disappearing back out the door. The door clicked shut again, leaving Love and Milk alone once more.

When Love turned back, Milk had moved toward the window and was staring into the darkness again. Love watched her, unable to ignore the pull, the subtle way her presence filled the room. She looked strong and self-assured, her figure casting a soft shadow in the dim light.

"What are you looking at?" Love asked.

Milk turned to her, her eyes meeting Love's with a calm intensity. "Just taking it in."

Taking it in. Love was sure to take in the sight before her.

Milk's hips were curved so sensually that Love shut her eyes repeatedly to keep from staring. Not that it helped when Milk's legs were screaming to be kissed.

Love could picture herself kissing those calves and teasing her thighs as she made her way up Milk's legs.

Love nodded, her eyes following Milk's every move as she settled onto the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other. Love's breath hitched. She shut her eyes again.

Stop ogling her, Love, she scolded herself.

It had been ages since she'd felt this drawn to someone.

"I should go kiss Sophie goodnight," Love said.

Milk gave a small nod, her gaze unwavering. "Of course."

Love lingered for a moment before she turned and left the room, her mind buzzing with everything unsaid.

She walked so fast that she was almost sprinting by the time she got to the girls' room. Right outside the door, she took a deep breath and exhaled heavily.

She placed her hands on her cheeks, hoping the girls would be too excited with their sleepover to notice her blushing over her colleague.

Love stepped quietly into Sophie and Natalie's room, the soft glow of a nightlight casting a warm light over the small space. Sophie looked up as Love approached, her eyes bright despite her sleepiness.

"Mom," she whispered, her face breaking into a smile as she glanced at Natalie. "Told you she'd come. Mommy always kisses me goodnight."

"That's right, pumpkin," Love said.

"Would you kiss me goodnight too, Love?" Natalie asked.

"Sure thing, Natalie," Love said.

This was it. This was how a sleepover should be—two friends enjoying each other's company and preparing for a good night's sleep. If only it could be this simple with Milk.

"Are you with Dr. Milk?" Sophie asked.

Love chuckled, leaning down to kiss her daughter's forehead. "Yes, honey. It's a double sleepover, isn't it?"

Sophie giggled softly. "Double sleepover," she repeated, sounding thrilled by the idea. She hugged her pillow, her excitement shining through even as her eyelids began to droop.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Love murmured, brushing back Sophie's hair and placing one last kiss on her forehead. She did the same with Natalie. "Goodnight, Natalie."

She moved quietly toward the door, looking back at the two girls nestled under their blankets.

"Goodnight, girls."

"Goodnight, Mom."

"Goodnight, Ms. Pattranite."

With a final smile, Love slipped out of the room and closed the door gently behind her. She turned to head back to the guest room and nearly stumbled as she almost walked right into Milk.

Milk stood there, close enough that Love had to steady herself against the wall. Dressed in simple, fitted pajamas, Milk looked different, softer in a way that Love hadn't seen before.

Her dark hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her eyes had a warmth in them that made Love's breath catch. The low light only made the lines of Milk's figure more pronounced.

"I didn't mean to surprise you," Milk said.

Love managed a small smile, taking in every detail. "No, it's...fine. Just didn't expect anyone in the hallway."

"I thought I'd come say goodnight to the girls, too," Milk said. "But now I don't think I want to get them all excited again."

Love's gaze dropped for a second, noticing the way the fabric of Milk's pajamas traced her frame, highlighting the subtle movement as she shifted slightly.

"So...have you ever spent the night here before?" Love asked.

"Not exactly," Milk replied, her lips curving slightly. "I've spent the night at Namtan's, but I was nine then."

Love nodded. "Sometimes a change of scenery isn't so bad."

Milk's gaze softened, her shoulders relaxing a bit more. "I can see that."

They'd reached their room now. Milk opened the door and they both walked in. Love stepped in and leaned against the door. Milk laughed, walked a step ahead of Love, and then she stopped.

Thunder rumbled outside again. Love tilted her head slightly, a small smile playing on her lips.

"You know, when I was little, I'd always end up in my moms' bed during storms. Cuddling with them was the only thing that kept me from worrying about thunder."

Milk's gaze flickered. "I don't remember the last time I really...cuddled with anyone. Maybe with my ex. It's been a while."

Love squinted momentarily, taken aback by the warmth in Milk's tone. She loved it. Milk's eyes glinted with a subtle need that seemed to match her own.

Still, it changed nothing. Love wouldn't let herself pay too much attention to stuff that shouldn't even be in her head.

"Cuddles are nice, but not really...essential. I've managed this long without them," Milk said.

Love shook her head, smiling. "That's where you're wrong. Cuddles are absolutely essential."

Milk raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think that?"

Love's smile grew. "Well, if you want the scientific explanation, cuddling releases oxytocin. It's a natural mood booster. And then there's serotonin, which is also good for stress. And dopamine helps with relaxation."

Milk rolled her eyes. "Cuddling also makes people grow attached and creates emotions that are sometimes too strong to be controlled."

"Exactly."

Love's heart raced as she watched Milk's reaction, the way she seemed drawn in despite herself.

"But it's more than that. There's comfort in it...something human that just makes everything else feel easier. Like a reminder that you're not alone."

Milk's gaze held hers, her expression softer now, her lips just barely curved. She didn't look away, and neither did Love, the space between them feeling smaller with every passing second.

"I never thought of it like that," Milk murmured.

Love took a quiet breath, unable to resist the pull any longer. She let herself lean in slightly, her gaze dropping briefly to Milk's lips, her heart racing as the warmth between them seemed to grow.

Milk's eyes lingered on her for a moment, the distance between them closing slowly, and then, almost naturally, their lips met. The kiss was soft. Love's hands made their way to Milk's cheek, caressing her as their lips entwined.

Milk's body pressed softly against hers. Love quaked with desire as the kiss deepened. Then, out of the blue, Milk took a step back.

They just stood there, locked in each other's gaze.

Chapter Text

Milk stood there, heart pounding, replaying the kiss in her mind. The warmth of it lingered on her lips. She hadn't expected it to feel like that—so natural, so right.

Damn. She hadn't expected to kiss Love at all. The voice in her head, the same one that usually warned her not to get attached to anyone, was quiet.

Being close to Love erased everything else. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss Love again.

Love's eyes searched hers as if trying to read the thoughts swirling in her mind. Milk wanted to close the space between them and taste her soft lips again.

Her gaze darted to Love's eyes again. Love backed up, still watching her, a quiet smile on her lips. It was almost invisible, but there was no denying that it was there.

Milk watched Love's lips part. She'd no doubt enjoyed every bit of the kiss, too. Then Love blinked and took a few steps past her.

"I need to shower," she murmured.

Milk nodded, the words barely registering as Love turned and slipped into the bathroom. She was left standing there, the lingering warmth from the kiss pulsing through her.

She couldn't believe how much she wanted Love, how close she felt to breaking every rule she'd set for herself. But as she heard the faint sound of water from the bathroom, she thought, What's the worst that could happen?

Milk moved to the edge of the bed, taking a steadying breath, her mind running over every moment of the evening. She'd tried for so long to avoid this kind of connection. Now, with Love, she felt herself leaning in instead of pulling away.

Worse still, she felt good about it. Yes, her heart raced with the very thought of it, but her lips still craved to be kissed.

Milk threw herself backward, bouncing slightly on the bed. She could've moved away. She could've stopped Love just before their lips touched, but she hadn't wanted to. If anything, every bit of desire she'd buried was suddenly above the surface.

She found herself wanting to be touched. She wanted to feel every inch of Love's skin against hers.

Milk's hands cupped her face. She groaned quietly, berating herself in her head. It was as ironic as it was strange. She wanted this, yet she knew she shouldn't.

She remained there for what felt like an eternity, breathing deeply and reminding herself how kissing Love was a mistake she wouldn't repeat.

The bathroom door opened, and Milk looked up. Love stepped out, wrapped in a towel, her damp hair falling loosely around her shoulders. She moved with a quiet ease, her gaze soft as it met Milk's. Her skin glowed in the dim light.

Milk's breath caught in her throat. Her jaw dropped as she watched Love move to the dresser and slip into her nightclothes—a simple tank top and soft shorts that clung to her in a way that made her pulse race even faster.

Milk's gaze traced every detail, from the curve of Love's collarbone to the gentle lines of her arms. Warmth settled deep inside her, and she couldn't look away.

"You look really nice," Milk murmured, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Love's lips curved into a small smile, a faint blush touching her cheeks. "Thanks. Guess pajamas aren't the usual look for me."

Milk watched her, unable to hide her smile. "They suit you."

Milk felt that pull again, drawing her closer, the last of her walls crumbling. She wanted this—wanted her. She rose to her feet and took a step closer. Love did the same.

What's the worst that could happen? She sighed.

Love's eyes met hers, and there was an understanding there, something unspoken yet undeniable. Milk's breathing steadied, her gaze lingering on Love's lips, the warmth between them building. She could see the same longing reflected in Love's eyes.

"Milk," Love said.

Milk closed the remaining distance, her hand reaching up to gently touch Love's arm, their eyes meeting again in silent agreement. She wasn't holding back anymore.

The warmth between them swelled as they leaned in, their lips meeting in a slow, gentle kiss. Milk didn't let the kiss last for long before she pulled back.

Her gaze held Love's, the warmth lingering between them. They didn't need to speak. This moment was theirs, and for once, Milk let herself give in completely.

Love's hand moved to gently rest on Milk's arm, tracing the line of her shoulder with a soft touch. Their eyes met, and there was an openness in Love's gaze, a vulnerability that Milk hadn't seen before.

Milk reached up, her fingertips brushing along Love's cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath her touch. The soft rise and fall of their breaths filled the quiet, creating a gentle rhythm between them.

"Is this okay?" Love asked.

Milk nodded, her gaze unwavering. "More than okay."

They came together again, their lips meeting in a kiss that held all the desire they'd kept hidden until now. It was slow, unhurried, each moment shared as though they had all the time in the world.

Milk moved her hand to rest on Love's back, pulling her closer, feeling the intensity between them deepen. She could feel the gentle beat of Love's heart, their breaths blending, grounding them both in the moment.

As they moved together, their touches became a language of their own. Love's hand found its way to the small of Milk's back, holding her close, their bodies pressed together in an embrace that was both soft and strong.

Milk felt a deep sense of trust in that touch, something that went beyond words, beyond any need for explanation.

They sank onto the bed, the covers soft beneath them, wrapping around each other as the world outside grew distant. Milk's hand moved gently along Love's arm.

A throbbing ache grew inside Milk as Love's fingers trailed across her neck.

Love's hands moved down Milk's arms, caressing her. Her eyes locked onto Milk's as she licked her lips. She slowed down, leaning a ways lightly.

"Milk?"

Milk's thoughts scrambled as she tried to find the right words.

"I just...I just...kiss me."

Love's gaze stayed fixed on her lips as she inched closer, their faces nearly touching. They lingered in that moment for only a few seconds, but it felt like time had slowed.

"I want you, Milk," Love finally whispered before leaning in for a kiss.

The kiss took Milk by surprise, though she knew it shouldn't have. Every moment leading up to this had hinted at it, but she still hadn't been prepared.

When Love's teeth captured her bottom lip, Milk could hardly believe it was happening. A quiet whimper escaped her as Love's hand cupped her neck, pulling her closer. Milk let out a louder whimper as Love's tongue slipped into her mouth.

"Love," she gasped, trying to sound firm but failing.

She'd intended to tell her to stop, yet stopping was the last thing she wanted. The kiss sent warmth all through her, while Love's hands explored her body, from her neck to the curve of her hip, eventually settling between her thighs.

She rubbed her palm over the crotch of Milk's pajama bottoms a few times before quickly growing tired of the barrier. Milk gasped as Love's cool fingers slipped beneath her panties.

"Is this okay?" Love murmured as she began to rub circles against Milk's clit.

Milk couldn't answer. Her voice caught in her throat, so she just nodded. Love's fingers traced her labia, finding her entrance, and slipped in effortlessly, gliding across her most sensitive spot.

"Love," Milk gasped again.

"Do you want me to stop?" Love asked, her tone tentative, though her fingers continued their motion.

"No. I want to know how it feels, how you taste," Milk whispered.

After that, she was lost in Love's hands. She leaned back against the bed as Love knelt in front of her, tugging Milk's pajamas and panties down to her ankles. Milk held her breath as Love's lips trailed up her thigh, building her anticipation.

When Love's tongue finally brushed against her, Milk felt a jolt all the way up her spine.

"Mm," Love purred as she sucked gently on Milk's clit, unashamed. She circled the sensitive bud with her tongue, then drew it between her lips. Milk whimpered, her head falling back.

Love seemed to enjoy tasting her just as much as Milk enjoyed her touch. She moaned while savoring the wetness flowing from Milk's core.

"You taste so good," Love said softly, smiling up at Milk. Her tongue dipped back between Milk's folds, sliding into her warmth. Milk gasped as Love's tongue pressed deeper, stars appearing behind her closed eyes.

She held onto Love's head, guiding her gently as she moved. Every movement brought Milk closer to release, a song of satisfaction filling the room as Love increased her pace. Her knees began to shake as her orgasm crashed over her, nearly overwhelming her.

Milk looked down, saw Love wipe her lips, and felt a renewed surge of desire. She smiled. "That was amazing," she whispered, pulling Love back up and kissing her. "Now it's my turn."

Milk kissed Love as she wiggled out of her pajamas. Love's curves drew her hands down, and Milk squeezed, hearing Love moan in response.

Milk understood what Love might be struggling to say, so she gently placed a finger against her lips.

She whispered, "Just focus on what feels good right now. Don't get too far ahead. Just enjoy me, okay?"

Love nodded as Milk's fingers traced along her damp folds. Love's body relaxed, allowing Milk to add another finger, her gentle, deliberate touch making Love's back arch. Love's soft moans filled the room, urging Milk to go faster, their breaths mingling as Love called out her name.

Their breasts pressed against each other, building their desire. Milk moved her legs, placing one between Love's, and Love moved so that their vulva lips pressed against each other.

Their hands groped at each other's bodies. They moved even faster, moaning and writhing until they climaxed.

Milk lay back against the pillows, watching the faint lines of light play across the ceiling. Love nestled against her, her breathing steady, her presence warm and reassuring.

Milk had never imagined she'd find herself here, feeling so at ease, letting someone close enough to wear down the walls she'd built around herself. But with Love, everything was different.

Love shifted, her head resting against Milk's shoulder, her arm wrapped gently around her. The moments they'd just shared were still fresh in Milk's mind, each memory filled with a tenderness that filled her with something she couldn't quite name.

It was rare—this closeness, this peace—and she felt it deep inside her in a way she couldn't ignore.

Milk looked down, watching as Love's face relaxed in the dim light. She reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Love's ear, her fingers brushing softly along her skin. Love's eyes opened slightly, catching Milk's gaze, a soft smile curving her lips.

"Comfortable?" Love's voice was a murmur, quiet and warm, her eyes bright with a gentle amusement.

"More than comfortable," Milk answered, her lips curling into a smile. "I haven't done this with anyone in a long time."

Love's smile widened, her fingers tracing light patterns along Milk's arm. "You're doing just fine."

Milk chuckled softly, the sound surprising her with its ease. "Only because I have a good partner."

They settled back into silence, with only the soft sounds of their breathing filling the space. Milk felt a freedom she hadn't known she'd been missing until now.

She'd been so guarded, so focused on keeping everyone at a distance, but lying here with Love, all of that faded into the background.

"What's on your mind?" Love's hand brushed against hers, a simple gesture, but one that sent a shiver through her.

Milk hesitated, her gaze softening as she met Love's eyes. "That I didn't expect this. Any of it. You."

Love's hand squeezed hers gently, but she said nothing. Milk turned her head, her eyes meeting Love's, the quiet understanding between them more than words could express. At this moment, she wasn't the person who kept everyone at arm's length.

"Goodnight, Love," Milk murmured, her eyes closing, a content smile on her face.

Love's fingers laced through hers, a small squeeze of reassurance. "Goodnight, Milk."

Chapter Text

Love stirred as the first light slipped through the curtains, bringing with it a warmth that wrapped around her like the memory of the night before.

She lay still, letting herself replay every detail. The memory was vivid, each touch and look feeling as fresh as if it had happened seconds ago.

Her gaze shifted, drawn to Milk lying beside her, peaceful in sleep. Milk's hair fell softly against the pillow, and Love's eyes lingered on the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the smoothness of her skin catching the morning light.

There was something so vulnerable about seeing her like this, her face free of its usual guarded expression.

Love felt her breathing slow, quiet awe settling over her as she admired Milk's features—the subtle curve of her lips, the lines of her collarbone, her steady breathing. Last night had been unexpected, but as she looked at Milk now, it felt more right than anything had in a long time. Love's eyes moved lower, noticing the soft curves of Milk's body and how it fit so perfectly beside her.

Then Milk's eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, they both just looked at each other. There was something unreadable in Milk's gaze, a flash of surprise that quickly turned guarded. Love could see the quick shift as Milk's face grew distant.

She felt herself draw back slightly, watching as Milk's expression turned neutral, the softness of the morning slipping away.

"Good morning," Milk said.

Love swallowed, surprised at the coldness in Milk's voice.

"Morning." She tried to keep her tone light, but the warmth from a moment ago had faded.

Milk sat up, brushing back her hair and looking toward the window. "The weather cleared up." Her words were flat, as if the night before hadn't meant anything.

Love sat up too, caught off guard by Milk's sudden detachment.

"Oh. That's...good." She watched as Milk moved off the bed, not looking back as she grabbed a robe and headed toward the bathroom. The door closed quietly, leaving Love sitting alone, trying to piece together what had just happened.

A soft knock broke through her thoughts. Love turned as Sophie pushed the door open, her face lighting up when she saw her mom.

"Good morning!" Sophie's voice was bright as she climbed onto the bed, settling close to Love with a wide grin.

Love managed a small smile, her attention shifting to her daughter.

"Good morning, sweetheart." She hugged Sophie, feeling a small comfort in her warmth. "Did you sleep well?"

Sophie nodded, her smile infectious. "Natalie and I had the best sleepover ever."

"That's great, honey." Love kissed her forehead. "Now let's get you ready. We'll be leaving soon."

Sophie nodded and hopped down, running back to her room. Love took a breath, steadying herself before getting up to join her.

She dressed quickly, hoping the coolness she'd felt with Milk earlier was just a temporary reaction, something they could talk through. But as she walked to the living room, her mind was still swirling with questions.

In the living room, Film was tidying up, her movements graceful, a gentle smile on her face. She looked up, and her smile grew a little wider when she saw Love.

"Morning, Love. How'd you sleep?" Film's tone held a playful note, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

Love felt her cheeks warm under Film's gaze. "It was nice." She tried to sound casual, but Film's knowing smile made her laugh, the faint blush deepening.

Film chuckled, her gaze warm. "That's good to hear." She gave a little wink, then continued with her tidying, as if nothing unusual had happened.

Love smiled to herself, the exchange bringing back a bit of the warmth from earlier. She stayed there a moment, watching as Film moved around, her mind drifting back to Milk. She wanted to go back to that closeness again, but she was met with an ache of uncertainty as she recalled Milk's distant expression.

When she returned to the bedroom, she found Milk gathering her things, her expression calm but closed off. Love took a breath and decided to break the silence.

"So, last night was..." She hesitated, searching for the right words, but Milk's face remained neutral, her gaze fixed on packing.

"It was nice, yes," Milk replied, her tone polite, almost too controlled. She looked up, her expression unchanging. "But we should probably get going soon."

Love's heart sank a bit at her tone, but she forced a small nod, trying to keep her own expression steady. "Right, of course."

She turned away, focusing on her own things and trying to shake off the frustration building inside. After last night, she'd thought things might be different, that maybe there was something more between them. But now, watching Milk retreat into her usual guarded self, she wondered if she'd read too much into it.

They moved through the rest of their preparations in silence, the ease from last night replaced by a careful distance. Love kept glancing over at her, trying to catch any hint of warmth in Milk's gaze, but each time, Milk was focused elsewhere, her face unreadable.

As they stood by the car, Love took a small breath and turned to Milk. "About last night..."

Milk looked up, her eyes steady but distant. "Let's just leave it, Love."

The finality in her tone made Love's chest tighten, but she managed a nod, her face calm. "Right."

Sophie tugged on her sleeve, looking up at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Mom, can I stay here a little longer?" Sophie glanced over to where Natalie stood, watching the two of them, clearly just as eager to extend their time together as Sophie was. "Please, Mom. Natalie says they're going to make waffles later, and it's not a school day."

Love glanced from Sophie to Natalie, then back again. "Sweetheart, we'll be heading home soon," she started, keeping her tone gentle but firm. She didn't want to impose on Namtan and Film.

But before she could continue, Namtan stepped forward, hands on her hips in mock sternness.

"Now hold on, Love. I think Natalie would be devastated if Sophie left so soon." She gave Love a warm smile, her gaze shifting to the two girls who were now staring at her, waiting for the final say.

"Absolutely," Film added, crossing her arms with a playful grin. "It's a weekend; let them have some fun. We can drop Sophie off later when you're done with work."

She gave Love a nod, reassuring her. Love hesitated, glancing back down at Sophie, whose expression brightened with hope. "Are you sure? I don't want to put you both out."

"Oh, please." Film waved a dismissive hand. "They're no trouble at all. Besides, Natalie has been looking forward to this. It'd be cruel to break a kid's heart over waffles."

Love laughed softly, watching as Sophie and Natalie's faces broke into matching grins. The relief in Sophie's expression tugged at her heart, and before she knew it, she was nodding.

"Alright, then." Love looked down at Sophie, who let out a delighted squeal and immediately wrapped her arms around Love's waist. "But make sure you listen to Namtan and Film, okay?

Sophie nodded vigorously, her expression lighting up. "I will, I promise!"

With that, Sophie let go and grabbed Natalie's hand, the two of them rushing back toward the kitchen where Film had already pulled out the ingredients for waffles. Watching them, Love felt a warm sense of reassurance settle in her chest.

Namtan touched her arm lightly. "See? Easy as that. Don't worry; we'll have her home before you know it." She gave Love a warm, knowing smile.

"Thank you, really. I know she loves it here." Love's gaze lingered on Sophie, watching her animatedly talk to Natalie as they gathered around the counter.

Namtan chuckled as she watched the scene, too. "Sophie's a wonderful kid, Love. You're doing an incredible job with her."

Love felt a blush creep up, but managed to smile. "Thank you, Namtan."

"May we?" Milk asked.

Love nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

They climbed into the car, and as they pulled away from the beach house, Love let the silence settle around them, her mind racing with questions she knew wouldn't be answered today. She told herself to let it go, to accept the distance Milk had put between them.

As they drove, she couldn't shake the memory of the warmth they'd shared, a warmth that felt as real as the morning light now streaming through the windows.

Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting soft shadows across the dashboard as they drove. Neither spoke. Love glanced sideways, catching Milk's profile as she kept her eyes on the road. Once or twice, Milk's gaze flicked toward her, but each time Love looked over, Milk's attention snapped forward again. Love tried not to think too hard about it, but there was no ignoring the sense that something was unresolved between them.

Minutes passed before Milk broke the silence.

"I hope you...didn't think too much of...anything last night." Her words came out hesitantly, almost like an apology she was reluctant to give.

Love's hand tensed against the seat.

"Just drive, Milk." She didn't look at her, choosing to focus on the trees rushing by instead.

The response hung between them, simple but clear. The silence settled in again, heavier, until they finally pulled up to the hospital entrance.

The familiarity of the hospital parking lot brought a strange sense of relief, and both women shifted back into the professional roles they wore like armor.

As they entered, Love felt herself fall back into the rhythm of work, but it wasn't long before a nurse with an annoyingly familiar smile ambushed them in the hallway.

"Morning, Dr. Pattranite, Dr. Pansa." Emi's smile was wide and a little too knowing as her gaze flicked between them. "So both of you coming in together today?"

Love noticed Milk's expression tighten, the warmth she'd felt from her that morning replaced with a brisk professionalism.

"Is there something you need?" Milk's tone was curt, a look of impatience crossing her face.

Emi cleared her throat, the smirk dropping as she held out a clipboard. "Emergency in the ICU—a young girl. They brought her in early this morning."

Love took the clipboard, her mind already shifting to the case in front of her.

"Thank you. We'll get on it right away."

She moved past Emi, Milk close behind her, both of them already absorbed in the details of the case as they walked down the corridor. Milk's office was closer, and as they neared it, Love glanced over at her.

"Let's take a look inside."

Milk nodded and they slipped into the office, the door closing softly behind them. The quiet inside the room brought an unexpected intimacy, a reminder of how things had been just hours before.

They stood side by side, both absorbed in the clipboard, their shoulders nearly touching as they read through the file. Love's mind was on the case, but she was acutely aware of every inch between them, every brush of her shoulder against Milk's arm.

Their hands moved together on the clipboard, fingers almost touching, and Love's breath caught. She tried to push the thoughts away, but her gaze flicked up, catching the edge of Milk's profile.

The memory of last night lingered, making it hard to concentrate on the words in front of her.

Suddenly, Milk's hand brushed against hers, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. Love's heart raced.

She looked up, meeting Milk's gaze, and for a brief second, it was as though everything else faded away—the office, the clipboard, the hospital.

Milk moved closer, and without a word leaned in, her lips brushing against Love's in a kiss that was both hesitant and certain, as if it was something she'd been holding back for far too long.

Love's mind went blank, and the only things grounding her were the warmth of Milk's lips and the softness of her touch. It was slower this time, deeper, a kiss that felt like a promise neither was ready to break.

When they finally pulled back, Milk's expression was a mix of longing and restraint, her gaze still locked with Love's. She took a small breath, as if gathering her thoughts.

"We shouldn't be doing this, Love."

The words were soft, almost pained, and Love felt a pang of frustration, but she kept her face steady as she nodded.

"I agree," Love said. "Right now, we have a kid to save."

Chapter Text

The surgery was intense but successful. Milk and Love worked seamlessly alongside the team in the ICU, the quiet rhythm of the monitors underscoring their coordinated movements.

The patient, a small child with an unexpectedly severe complication, pulled through under their steady hands, leaving a faint but gratifying sense of relief as they wrapped up the case.

Days passed, but Milk's thoughts kept drifting back to Love. She caught herself thinking about her more than once, wondering what it was about Love that made her presence linger long after they'd parted ways.

She told herself repeatedly to focus, to brush these thoughts aside, yet here she was, distracted once again at her desk. She sifted through the files in front of her, forcing her mind to clear and her focus to settle on her work. But every effort seemed to draw her right back.

Seated at her desk, she looked at her computer, narrowing her eyes as she reviewed patient charts. Her attention snapped when she noticed an email notification from Love. She'd barely clicked it open when, as if on cue, Love stepped into her office.

"Milk," Love said, stepping forward and holding a file. "Something is missing in this chart." She opened the file, pointing to a section of the notes. "A small omission from the parents' report—something we need to follow up on."

Milk leaned in, glancing at the highlighted section as Love explained, nodding along. But her focus drifted, settling on the way Love's hand moved across the page, her fingers grazing the paper with a gentle ease.

Her mind wandered, drawn to the soft line of Love's jaw, the way her eyes held a quiet intensity even as she discussed something so routine.

"This omission could impact our treatment plan," Love continued, glancing up at Milk, unaware of her gaze. "I wanted to make sure we were on the same page."

Milk caught herself, nodding. "Good catch. We'll need to follow up with them, then."

A silence lingered between them, and Milk noticed the warmth in Love's gaze, the hint of something she couldn't quite name. She forced herself to maintain a calm expression, reminding herself that this was nothing more than a fleeting attraction.

A distraction.

Even as her pulse raced with every glance, she convinced herself it was just that—a passing fascination. It couldn't be anything more than that.

But Love's presence had this effect on her, drawing her in without effort. Milk leaned back, letting her gaze linger a moment longer than usual.

Love's expression softened. "You seem distracted," she said, an almost teasing edge to her words.

"I'm not," Milk replied, straightening in her chair, though the faintest smile pulled at the edge of her lips.

Love raised an eyebrow. "Right. And here I thought it was just me. "Her tone was light, almost playful, but it carried a hint of something else.

Milk looked away, shifting the files on her desk as if they held all the questions she was avoiding. "We should focus on the work," she said, though her words felt hollow.

Love's smile didn't fade, and her gaze was steady. "Agreed." But she didn't make a move to leave, staying rooted in place, her eyes lingering on Milk.

Milk's resolve weakened. She let out a soft breath, feeling her usual walls weaken in Love's presence.

"Love." She hesitated, her gaze meeting Love's.

Love stepped closer, their faces only inches apart. Milk's heart raced, her hand instinctively reaching out to graze Love's arm. She caught her breath, the pull between them undeniable, filling the space like a silent question.

Without another word, she leaned in, her lips finding Love's in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was softer than she'd expected, that familiar warmth bringing them back together again.

Love's hand rested against her back, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss until nothing else mattered.

The kiss lingered, stretching into something neither of them was willing to break, an unspoken connection that only grew stronger with each passing second. Milk felt herself give in, savoring their closeness and the way Love's breath mingled with hers.

As their kiss deepened, Love responded, her hands finding Milk's waist. Milk felt a surge of excitement as Love's tongue tentatively explored her mouth.

Milk pulled Love closer, their bodies pressed together. Love's hands moved to Milk's hair, tugging gently as Milk traced the curve of Love's spine. She felt a shiver run through Love as her fingers brushed against her skin.

The kiss intensified, their breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Milk's hands moved to Love's neck, then down to her collarbone. She traced the delicate curves, her fingers lingering on the soft skin. Love arched her back, her body pressing into Milk's touch.

Milk's fingers moved to Love's breast, gently caressing it through the fabric of her scrubs. Love moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed. Milk's heart raced as she felt the heat of Love's body against hers.

Milk pulled away from Love, her breathing ragged. She realized the intensity of her grip on Love, her hand still resting on her breast. She loosened her hold, bracing herself for Love's reaction. She expected a mumbled apology or an awkward goodbye, but she couldn't bring herself to let go completely. She was too captivated by Love.

Finally, Love looked up at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes met Milk's, and at that moment, all of her self-control vanished. Milk closed the distance between them, cupping Love's face and kissing her passionately.

Love responded with equal fervor, wrapping her arms around Milk's waist. The kiss was everything Milk had imagined and more. It was intense, electric, and all-consuming.

A moment of hesitation flickered in Milk's mind, but Love quickly dispelled it by pulling her closer. Milk whispered in Love's ear, "Love, could we...?"

A sudden knock at the door pulled them apart, and Milk straightened, catching her breath, her gaze leaving Love's with a hint of reluctance.

Milk looked up as Namtan entered, her expression neutral but sharp, taking them both in as if she somehow knew what had just happened. Namtan adjusted her glasses and set her gaze firmly on the clipboard in her hand.

"Everything's under control with your patients, I hope?" Namtan asked evenly.

"Yes, absolutely," Milk replied.

Love nodded in agreement beside her. "All cases are stable. And the ICU patient is showing progress. The parents were given an update."

Namtan nodded, her expression softening a fraction. "Good to hear. I appreciate your attention to detail."

She looked as though she wanted to say something else, her gaze lingering for a beat longer than necessary, but instead, she shifted her expression into a gentle smile. "Thank you both again for making it to the party the other night."

Milk nodded. Namtan's knowing glance, almost as though she could see right through them, was uncomfortable.

Love gathered her things as Namtan excused herself. "See you both in rounds." With a quick nod, she left, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Love took a breath, meeting Milk's gaze briefly before she turned to head out herself.

Once alone, Milk leaned back against her desk and let out a long breath. She pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to shake off the way her thoughts drifted back to Love.

She wanted to move forward, to focus on the work, to tell herself that everything between them was temporary.

But as much as she tried, Love's smile, her voice, even the way she brushed a hand over her arm, lingered like an anchor, refusing to let her go.

Milk made her way to the changing room, catching sight of Love adjusting her scrubs near the lockers. Just seeing her there, calm and focused, brought an unsettling warmth to her chest.

She took a breath, determined to keep her focus on the surgery ahead. But then Emi stepped in with her usual energy, swinging her bag onto a bench and flashing both of them a mischievous grin.

"Look at you two," Emi said, eyes darting back and forth between Milk and Love, clearly amused. "Am I interrupting something? Maybe a lover's quarrel?"

Milk shot Emi a sharp look. "It's rude to dig into other people's business."

Emi held up her hands, a playful smile on her face. "Alright, alright. Just making observations here." She glanced at Love with a smirk. "Anyway, just saying. You two take things too seriously."

Love let out a small, exasperated sigh. "Emi, not everything's a joke."

"Fine. I get it. I'm backing off," Emi replied with a shrug, her tone light, though her gaze still sparkled with interest.

Milk turned back to her locker, trying to keep her mind on the task, yet her thoughts drifted. She knew Love was just a few steps away, and despite the distraction Emi provided, Milk's focus kept straying toward her.

There was something magnetic about Love's quiet presence, a pull that Milk couldn't ignore, no matter how much she tried.

They finished changing, and after a quick review of the case, they moved out together toward the OR. The surgery went smoothly. They coordinated seamlessly, with Emi assisting on a few key parts.

The patient, a complicated heart case, made it through with no issues, and Milk felt a familiar sense of accomplishment as they finished and began to clean up.

Afterward, as they walked back down the hall, Milk kept pace beside Love. She glanced over, studying her profile, noting the concentration still etched on her face. She wanted to say something, to acknowledge the ease they shared in the OR.

The quiet rhythm of their work together felt natural, even comforting.

Love caught her look. "Good job in there."

Milk nodded, clearing her throat. "Same to you. It's...easy, working together."

They fell into silence again, the muffled sounds of the hospital around them, the occasional beeping echoing in the distance. Milk's heart beat a little faster, and on impulse, she turned to Love.

"Would you like to have coffee later?" The words were out of her mouth before she had time to second-guess herself.

Love paused and glanced at her, surprise flickering in her eyes. "Milk...no, I don't think so."

Milk stiffened, nodding. "Of course. Forget I asked." She forced a neutral expression, though inwardly, a wave of frustration rose. What was she doing? She knew better than to let her guard down. Coffee...as if a simple invitation could bridge the distance that lay between them.

They parted ways, and as Milk walked back to her office, she berated herself for even suggesting it. She kept her gaze fixed forward.

Why had she let herself care?

Turning the corner, she almost collided with a resident, barely dodging him at the last second. He stepped back, surprised, and mumbled a quick apology.

"Watch where you're going," she replied automatically, her words sharper than she'd intended.

The resident hurried off, leaving Milk alone in the corridor. She straightened, took a deep breath, and headed toward her office. The second she stepped inside, her phone screen lit up with a new message notification. Her mother's name glared back at her.

CALL ME.

She let out a low sigh, feeling a familiar knot settle in her stomach. Without thinking, she picked up the phone, her thumb hovering over the call button.

Her mother had been reaching out more often lately, though every call always led to the same questions, the same unwanted reminders of the past she was trying to leave behind. She wasn't sure she was ready for another one of those conversations.

Instead, she opened the message screen and quickly typed, I'm fine, but paused before hitting send. A part of her wanted to believe that simple assurance would be enough to satisfy her mother's concerns, but she knew better.

She deleted the message, then tossed the phone onto her desk and sank into her chair.

Leaning back, she exhaled and stared up at the ceiling. She hated the sense of avoidance creeping in, yet she knew it was easier to ignore than to confront the flood of emotions these calls always unleashed.

Her mother's probing, the reminders of her last relationship—all of it only brought memories she wanted buried. What her parents had said and done had driven a wedge into her life that she was still struggling to repair.

Milk crossed her arms, feeling a sudden pang of bitterness. Her last love hadn't survived that wedge. She hadn't survived her parents' disapproval.

Milk had been so hopeful then, so determined that love would overcome whatever obstacles came their way. But in the end, her parents' lack of acceptance, the constant arguments, and the stress—all of it had been too much.

And now...she glanced at the door, her mind drifting to Love. They weren't anything official. She hadn't let herself get close enough for that, but the thought lingered like a quiet warning.

What if her parents' disapproval somehow tainted this too, drove another wedge into something that hadn't even had a chance to begin?

Her phone chimed again, the screen flashing with another message from her mother: Just let us know you're okay.

Milk picked it up and stared at the words, her thumb tracing the edge of the phone. She hated that this one message could unearth all the feelings she thought she'd buried.

Chapter Text

Love leaned back in her seat, staring at the space on her desk where her phone had been just moments ago. She'd turned down Milk's coffee invitation that afternoon, even though she'd wanted to say yes.

She hadn't felt a pull toward anyone like this in years, and it had come with an intensity she hadn't been prepared for, leaving her battling between her growing attraction and the need to stay cautious, for her own sake and Sophie's.

The kisses were one thing—brief, undeniable moments that deepened a connection Love didn't quite know how to name. But a coffee date? That felt different. The idea of letting herself feel more than desire stirred a hesitation that even her quiet yearning for Milk couldn't quell.

Picking up her phone again, she quickly dialed Bonnie and requested a pick-up. She gathered her things, her mind lingering on those glances she'd shared with Milk, the brief touches, the way Milk's face softened when she thought no one was watching.

A part of Love wanted to know where this could lead, but another part held back. She couldn't risk bringing someone so close to her, not unless she knew she could trust them.

Soon enough, her car pulled up and she slipped into the backseat, sinking into the soft leather. Bonnie nodded in the rearview mirror. "Heading home, ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied.

As they drove through the city, Love's thoughts wandered back to Sophie, to the quiet mornings spent at the breakfast table, the laughter filling the kitchen when Sophie recounted her school stories, her animated hands waving as she described every detail.

Love couldn't afford to risk Sophie's happiness for something she wasn't certain of. Sophie had never seen her in a relationship with someone. And as much as Love wanted to explore what was happening with Milk, she didn't want Sophie to get attached to someone who was just going to leave.

The car pulled up in front of her house and she stepped out, nodding a quick thanks to Bonnie. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, the quiet of her home wrapping around her as she shut the door.

She kicked off her shoes by the entryway, crossing through the hallway with a faint, lingering ache in her chest.

It was still early afternoon; Sophie would be at school for another hour. For a moment, Love hesitated in the hallway, the pull of her thoughts still caught between what was and what might be. Finally, she pushed herself forward and stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Love turned on the shower and stepped into the warm stream as she let the day's events wash over her. The memory of Milk, the coffee invitation she'd turned down, and those quiet, unexpected moments between them ran through her mind, as vivid as if they'd just happened seconds ago.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to recall every detail of their encounters. There was something in the way Milk's gaze lingered that made Love feel seen in a way she hadn't in so long.

A part of her wished she'd accepted that coffee invitation. Being with Milk—whether in the middle of a hectic surgery or an unexpected conversation—left her with a sense of calm, a subtle warmth.

She'd resisted the idea of falling for anyone, especially with Sophie in her life. But with Milk, it felt harder and harder to convince herself that wasn't exactly what she wanted.

She sighed, stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in a towel. She caught her reflection briefly in the mirror and gave herself a small, resigned smile before heading to the bedroom to get dressed.

As she made her way to the living room, Love heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. She glanced through the window and saw Bonnie arriving with Sophie in the backseat.

Opening the front door, she stepped outside as Sophie got out of the car and ran to her with a wide grin.

"Mom!" Sophie's laughter was contagious as her arms wrapped around Love in a quick hug.

"Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?"

"Good! Natalie and I played together all afternoon," Sophie said, her words rushing out with excitement.

Love chuckled, listening to Sophie's stories as they headed inside together. The evening passed in a comforting blur of homework, dinner, and bedtime routines, though Milk's image lingered in Love's mind and a quiet anticipation settled in. Tomorrow, she thought. I'll see her tomorrow.

The next morning came quickly, and Love watched as Bonnie pulled up to drop Sophie off at school before taking her to the hospital. As she walked through the familiar hallways, her gaze instinctively searched for any sign of Milk, but there was nothing.

Settling into her office, she went over her schedule, noting with a slight disappointment that she wasn't paired with Milk that day. She clicked through the patient charts, skimming details and preparing herself for the cases ahead, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the other surgeon.

A sudden voice interrupted her. "Milk isn't in today," Emi said, pausing by Love's desk with a knowing smile.

Love glanced up, her heart sinking slightly at the news. "Oh," she replied, keeping her tone casual.

"You know, I heard a few things," Emi added, leaning in conspiratorially. "Did you know Milk's parents are big-time doctors? She practically grew up in hospitals, or so they say. That's part of why she transferred here."

Love forced a smile, not wanting to indulge in the gossip. "Thanks, Emi, but I'd rather focus on the surgery today."

Emi raised an eyebrow, her grin unfazed. "Fair enough, though if you ever want to know more, you know where to find me." She gave Love a playful wink before walking off, leaving Love with her conflicted thoughts.

In truth, she was curious. She wanted to know everything about Milk—why she'd come here, what made her so guarded, and if there was something real between them or if it was just a fleeting connection. But the professionalism she'd promised herself to maintain kept her silent.

She shifted her attention back to the charts in front of her, even as her thoughts lingered on Milk.

"Good morning."

Love turned, her heart giving a small leap as she heard Milk's voice behind her. There she was, calm and composed as always, with an unexpected warmth in her eyes.

"Milk," Love managed, keeping her excitement in check. "I didn't think you'd be in today."

Milk stepped closer, a slight smile tugging at her lips. "I was away for a bit, but I'm back now. You were talking about a case?"

Love nodded, pulling the chart from her desk as she began to explain the details. "Yes, it's a complex one—a high-risk surgery with a few variables we're still not sure about. The patient's vitals have been unstable."

Emi reappeared in the hallway, observing them with a knowing grin. "Well, aren't we looking cozy this morning?" she teased, her gaze flicking between Love and Milk.

Love forced a polite smile. "Emi, if you'd excuse us, we have work to do."

Emi raised her hands in mock surrender, smirking. "Alright, alright. Don't mind me." She shot Milk a playful wink before walking away, leaving them alone.

Milk cleared her throat, her gaze returning to the chart. "Let's ignore her. You were talking about the surgery?"

"Yes, right," Love said, relieved to refocus on the task. "I thought about adjusting the plan. We could improve the stability if we monitor the vitals closely, but it's risky."

Milk nodded thoughtfully as she studied the notes. "You're right. The adjustments could work, but we'll have to be careful."

Love glanced at Milk, warmth spreading in her chest at the concentration on her face. It was these moments, the quiet focus they shared, that made her wonder if there was more here than she'd first thought. She was drawn to Milk, no doubt about it, but that's not where their connection ended.

As their hands brushed over the chart, Love felt a jolt of electricity. She glanced up, meeting Milk's gaze. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—an invitation, perhaps, or a shared understanding.

"Love." Milk's voice was barely a whisper, but the softness in it held Love's attention.

Love's heart raced, her pulse quickening as she leaned in. Milk closed the distance, their lips meeting in a gentle, unspoken promise. The kiss was soft, lingering just enough to leave an impression.

Milk pulled back, her gaze steady, though her expression held a hint of reluctance.

"Let's get on with the surgery," Love said.

"Right."

The rest of Love's day felt like it stretched far longer than usual.

After the surgery, the high-intensity focus the procedure demanded left her needing a moment to breathe, collect herself, and reset. Once she finished scrubbing out, she made her way to the cafeteria for a much needed break.

The faint scent of coffee drifted through the air, comforting in its familiarity, as she ordered a simple meal, needing something to ground herself after the flurry of medical procedures.

She found an empty seat near Sarah and a few other nurses she recognized. They were deep in conversation, but as she joined them their voices quieted, their eyes darting between her and the door as if anticipating something.

Love took a steady breath, ignoring the side glances. She was here for a quiet meal, and she wasn't about to let cafeteria gossip disrupt that.

She hadn't even taken her first bite when the door opened and Milk walked in, scanning the room briefly before heading to the coffee station.

Love's eyes lifted instinctively, their gazes meeting, and for a brief moment, Milk's usual stoic expression softened into a small smile as she nodded in Love's direction. It was subtle, almost reserved, but Love caught it, and something inside her warmed.

Then, just as quickly, Milk took her coffee and exited the cafeteria without another look back.

Sarah glanced at Love with a smirk, though she didn't say a word. Love raised an eyebrow. "Alright. What's that look for?"

Sarah shrugged, trying to hold back a grin. "Nothing, really. She's just beautiful, that's all."

Love fought to keep her expression remain neutral, though her stomach flipped slightly. "Is that all?" she asked. She could sense the curiosity radiating off of Sarah and the other nurses.

Sarah's smirk didn't waver. "Okay, okay. Maybe there's a little more to it." She leaned in. "It's just that—well, don't tell me you haven't noticed that the whole hospital's been watching this. The ice queen is finally warming up to someone. To you." Her eyes sparkled, almost teasingly.

Love's face softened, but she shook her head.

"Let's not call her that," she said simply, aware of how that label had never quite fit Milk, even if others seemed convinced it did. The nickname didn't capture her in the slightest, and it felt wrong to hear it.

Sarah looked genuinely taken aback, and the other nurses quickly murmured their apologies. "Fair point, Love," Sarah said, glancing down. "I didn't mean anything by it. But honestly, it's Phoenix Ridge."

"Phoenix Ridge?" Love repeated, not sure where this was going.

"Yeah, this place...I don't know, it's like it has this way of bringing people together. My parents, for one." She gave her a small smile. "They met here, and now they've been together for twenty years. They had nothing before they met. My mom...she'd just gone through a rough time, and they bumped into each other randomly at the bar on Highland. They both say it was like magic, you know?"

Love blinked, slightly taken aback. It sounded enough like her own moms' story that it shifted something in her understanding of Phoenix Ridge. She hadn't thought much about the town's reputation, or this supposed "magic" it held for others.

Sarah's eyes held a soft warmth as she continued, "Look, I'm not saying everyone believes it. But Phoenix Ridge? It's different. It brings people together."

Love gave a small chuckle. "I don't know about magic, Sarah. I just know we're here to do our work and help people."

Sarah shrugged, but there was a knowing look in her eyes, as if she didn't quite believe Love's attempt to brush it off.

"Sure, if you say so."

Love offered a polite smile, excusing herself as she took her tray and stood, trying to ignore the nagging feeling Sarah's words left behind.

She didn't believe in magic, but the way she felt around Milk—the quiet exchanges, the moments of warmth that contradicted every story she'd heard about Milk's icy persona—stirred something she couldn't quite dismiss.

Love sighed. She'd figure this out, somehow.

Chapter Text

Milk sat at her desk, her fingers tapping idly against the papers she'd been avoiding.

Against her will, her thoughts kept slipping back to the night at Namtan's house. She should've moved on by now—work demanded it—but no amount of patient files or review notes could clear that night from her mind.

She adjusted a stack of papers, moving them from one side of her desk to the other, her gaze distant. The memories kept creeping back in—the softness in Love's expression, the way her hair fell loose around her shoulders, the warmth of her smile.

Milk glanced at the empty chair across from her desk, half-expecting Love to be there. But of course, she wasn't. It'd only been an hour or two since she'd seen her last, yet it felt like years had passed.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, mocking her inability to stay focused. Milk leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. She glanced at her coffee, untouched and now cold.

Reaching for her phone, she nearly jumped when it lit up with an incoming call: Mom. The phone buzzed insistently as the name flashed on the screen. She stared at it, her finger hovering over the answer button, but something in her hesitated.

Perhaps she could tell them to leave her be for now. She'd heal faster without them peering over her shoulder and calling every damn day.

The ringing finally stopped, leaving a silence so loud she could hear her thoughts screaming at her. Maybe she'd call her parents back after work.

But even as she thought about it, she knew she wouldn't. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow, either. She adjusted the papers again, this time stacking them perfectly square, a distraction that barely lasted a few seconds.

Milk stood up and paced a few steps around the room. She glanced at the small calendar on her desk, noting the appointments lined up for the rest of the week. None of them involved Love. That was disappointing. She wanted to think it was just a professional preference—after all, Love was good at what she did. But if she was being honest, it was more than that.

She walked to the window and looked out at the hospital courtyard below. People moved in and out, some in scrubs, others in street clothes, and yet Love was the only one she could think about.

That night, it had been so easy to forget her own rules. Love had pulled down those walls Milk had spent years building like it was nothing. Milk ran a hand through her hair, almost laughing at herself.

With a quiet sigh, she moved back to her desk, glancing at the phone once more. No new messages. She knew it was silly to expect anything.

Finally, she walked to the door, her steps slower than usual. Part of her knew this was a mistake—seeking out Love, allowing herself to let her guard down. She should stay put, focus on work, and let these feelings settle into the background. But her hand reached for the door anyway.

Her steps carried her down the hall, passing the occasional nurse or fellow doctor. She kept her gaze steady, ignoring the curious glances. The hallway stretched out in front of her, seeming longer than she remembered.

There it was: Love's office. She stopped just short of the door, her hand lifting to knock, but then paused.

What was she even going to say? She didn't know. But if she knocked on Love's door, she had a feeling everything would change.

Milk stood outside Love's office, rubbing a hand over her forehead. The fluorescent hallway lights reflected off her face, highlighting her furrowed brow.

Today had been pretty long, but it wasn't stress written on her face. It was indecision. For so long, Milk had been fighting the urge to see Love and share in her space.

Fighting?

She almost laughed. The fact that she was standing outside Love's office showed how well she was "fighting."

She raised her hand, hesitated, and then sighed.

"Just knock already," she muttered to herself. But her hesitation wasn't because she couldn't handle being in Love's space—it was because she couldn't handle not being in Love's space.

Everything reminded her of Love, from the white hospital walls to the little bits of art that filled the pediatric ward.

Maybe it was just her head, but that was another problem on its own. Why couldn't she remain as stoic as she'd been when she first came here? She was Milk Pansa now, so why did she love like she was still Milk Vosbein?

Milk sighed. There was no going back now. Her heart wanted what—who—it wanted. She raised her hand again, but this time she knocked.

No response. Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't have signed out already. Milk knew that for certain. She'd checked Love's schedule for the day. She still had a couple of hours before she clocked out.

Perhaps she was so busy inside that she wasn't paying attention to the door. She knocked again.

"Love?"

No response.

"There's no one in there," a soft voice called.

Milk spun around to find Love standing behind her. Her hair, as usual, was nearly tucked behind her ear. It was the glint in her eyes that blew Milk away. That, and the slow smile that was spreading over her lips.

"Oh, I was..." Milk began. "You're here."

Shit. Milk screamed at herself in her head. In her defense, she hadn't thought out what she'd say when she saw Love. All that made sense in her head was the fact that she wanted to see her.

"I might've stayed a little too long at the cafeteria," Love said, her eyebrows lifting slightly. "Hey."

Hey?

Milk found it a little too informal. Still, she liked it, the same way she liked the fluttering in her belly as Love smiled at her.

"Hey," Milk said, sticking her hands in her coat pockets. The motion felt clumsy. She pulled them out immediately and cleared her throat. "Thought I'd stop by."

Love seemed to glow as the words left Milk's lips. Maybe she was just imagining things, but she'd love to imagine that her missing Love would be enough to make Love glow. She sure would feel great if Love said the same thing about her.

"If I just..." Love said, pointing toward the door to her office.

Milk's eyes followed Love's hand. She wore no bracelets. Her hands were as smooth as the curve of her lips when she spoke. Milk smiled. Of course, she knew all about Love's hands. They'd caressed her so sensually when they'd made love.

She knew about her lips, too. She remembered every little detail of how they'd traced kisses down her thighs, then back up while she'd fucked her with her fingers. Milk adjusted her stance.

"...the door," Milk heard Love say.

She blinked. There was a key in Love's hand.

Oh. Key. Door.

Milk turned red in the face.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea. I just...sorry," Milk mumbled as she stepped out of the way.

"It's perfectly fine."

It wasn't fine for Milk. She'd already embarrassed herself.

"There we go," Love said as the door finally swung open. "Come in."

Love stepped inside and Milk followed closely behind.

Everything in here was just...Love. Calm, and inviting, with the scent of coffee lingering in the air. Milk soon found the culprit, a coffee cup sitting next to a stack of papers on her desk.

Love leaned against her desk and glanced at Milk. Milk shifted from foot to foot, not quite sure where to start. She racked her brain, trying to think of something to break the ice.

When she looked up, Love was watching her with a half-smile playing on her lips.

Typical Love.

"You look exhausted," Love said, crossing her arms. She was close enough for Milk to notice the tiny flecks of brown in her eyes.

"It's been one of those days." Milk took a deep breath. "You know what I mean."

Love chuckled softly. "I do." She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing a fraction. "Working with you has made work a bit more enjoyable, though."

Milk wondered if Love was hinting at something more sensual. She'd love to imagine that Love craved the moments they got to spend together as much as she did.

She glanced away. "Work's work."

"You didn't stop by just to chat about work, did you?" Love asked. She wasn't accusing, just observing in that way of hers.

Milk shrugged again, this time a little too quickly. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I don't see you with a clipboard or any notes," she said. She stepped closer, and Milk's stomach twisted. "There's no sign you came here for work.

Milk frowned. "I thought I'd break protocol for once."

"Protocol?"

"Yeah," Milk said. "Thought I'd drop by and see what's so special about social calls."

That part wasn't exactly a lie. Only, she wanted more than just a social call right now.

"And?" Love asked.

Milk closed the space between them. Her heart thumped in her chest. Love stepped away from the desk, moving closer to Milk.

"You do this thing, you know?" she said softly. "You act like you're half a world away, even when you're standing right here."

Milk didn't respond. What was she supposed to say to that? Love was right. She wished she was half a world away, even now. She should be anywhere but here in this office.

She shouldn't be having such tumultuous thoughts. But there she was, staring into the eyes of the one woman who made her feel mushy inside.

"Milk," Love said, her voice softer now, and Milk looked up. She couldn't help it. "I probably sound like a broken record right now, but it's okay to let people in."

You mean to let you in? Milk could've said, but she didn't. Instead, she touched Love's cheek as softly as her fingers could muster.

"Love," she whispered, like her name was the only thing that made sense.

Milk stepped even closer without thinking.

"Kiss me," she said softly.

Love blinked, surprised. Her eyes searched Milk's, but then her gaze shifted to Milk's lips. That was all she needed.

Milk closed the little bit of remaining distance, pressing her lips to Love's. The connection was electric. Love's hands found Milk's waist as Milk buried her hands in Love's hair.

Love steadied herself against her desk, reaching lower for Milk's ass. Then they pulled apart, breathing heavily.

"Milk," Love whispered, her cheeks flushed.

"I couldn't stop," Milk admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Love tilted her head. "It's fine."

"I didn't come here to kiss you," Milk said, running a hand through her hair. "It just happened."

Love laughed softly. "If I'm being honest, I wanted to kiss you, too."

Milk groaned. Love's words made her feel even more attached now. She didn't want to like that feeling.

"So did I," Milk said, a smile tugging at her lips.

Love stepped closer, her presence soothing. "Sometimes, you need to break the rules."

Milk shook her head. "Not sure I agree."

Chapter Text

Love felt the warmth of Milk's lips lingering on her own, her heartbeat quickening in the silence between them.

She took a breath, not pulling away, letting the moment stretch as she watched Milk closely. Milk's lips were still parted. Her eyes darted down to Love's lips.

Love kept her gaze steady, speaking softly. "You...surprised me," was all she could say.

Milk's shoulders relaxed slightly, but she didn't look away.

"I know. I didn't plan it. I just..." She paused, letting her words hang between them. "It's impossible not to want you," she finally admitted, as if the words tasted foreign.

Love took a half step forward, close enough that she could see the quick rise and fall of Milk's breathing. "You're allowed to want things, you know," she said gently, her eyes searching Milk's. "More than work. More than just being here, day after day."

Milk let out a small, almost reluctant smile, as though she was embarrassed. "I know that," she said, though her gaze softened as if she didn't believe it fully.

Love reached up, rested a hand on Milk's shoulder, and felt her tense, then relax. She could feel the warmth of Milk's body through the fabric of her shirt.

"Then maybe...maybe you can let this happen," Love murmured. Her hand moved slightly, her thumb brushing the side of Milk's neck. "Let me happen."

Milk looked down briefly, her lips pressing together before she looked back at Love, her gaze vulnerable, almost unguarded. "Love, I...I'm not sure what I can give you," she whispered. "I don't know if I'm someone who...who just lets things happen."

Love felt something surge within her at the admission. It was the first time Milk had openly addressed any of the walls between them. "Then don't think of it as letting something happen," she replied, her fingers resting against Milk's jaw.

"Think of it as..." She trailed off, her smile growing. "Think of it as having something you don't have to control. Just for once."

Milk's mouth curved as she let out a soft laugh. "And you'd be alright with that?"

Love nodded slowly, her eyes unwavering. "With you? I think I'd be better than alright." She leaned in just enough that her forehead rested against Milk's, feeling the gentle warmth of her breath.

They stayed close, letting the seconds tick by. Milk's hand lifted, resting on Love's waist, her touch light and almost tentative, but it spoke volumes. She drew back enough to see Love's face. "I think you're..." She hesitated, words seemingly failing her for a moment. "You're different from anyone I've ever known."

Love's breath caught and she let her hand fall, catching Milk's fingers. "I'd say the same about you."

Her thumb traced over Milk's hand, lingering and warm. Milk's fingers flexed slightly and she closed her eyes. "I've missed things like this," she admitted, so quietly Love barely heard her.

"Then don't stop," Love replied, her voice firm yet soft, her grip steady. She looked at Milk, her smile tender. "I don't want you to stop."

Milk let out a shaky breath as she stepped forward, her other hand resting lightly on Love's back. "I'm...I'm not sure what's happening between us," she whispered, "but I don't want it to go away. Not yet."

Love's heart lifted at the words, and she felt herself pulled in even closer than before. "Good," she murmured, feeling a sense of understanding that didn't need more words. She looked up at Milk, their faces just inches apart.

Then she stepped back.

"I should—"

"Don't go," Milk said.

Love froze. She wasn't even certain what she'd wanted to say earlier. All that filled her senses was the fact that Milk's voice increased the desire bubbling inside her.

She glanced at Milk's lips, this time letting her eyes wander as low as her breasts. She could see enough of her cleavage to make her thighs warm.

"Don't go anywhere," Milk repeated in a slightly louder voice as she reached out to touch Love's wrist. Love was stunned. She gently took Milk's hand in both of hers and stood looking at it like a bear surprised to have caught a salmon.

"Not even to lock the door?" she asked.

"You could always do that another time," Milk said.

Love took half a step forward and kissed Milk on the mouth. It was in elegant—their entwined hands were now smooshed between their bodies. But magically, astoundingly, Milk's tongue moved against Love's, and she kissed her back.

Milk pulled away this time. "Just give me a second," she said breathlessly.

Love waited as Milk breezed over to the door, smiling when the lock clicked shut. In a flash, Milk was back in front of her, pressing her lips against Love's and caressing her body.

Something in Love's brain roared to life, and the desire she'd been fighting every day since she'd met Milk hit her with so much force it was almost painful. She'd give anything for this moment.

She'd imagined this since that night at Namtan's.

Love let go of Milk's hand and circled her arms around her to pull her close. Milk's body against hers felt better than Love could have imagined. Milk moved her hips to press a little harder against Love, and Love let out an involuntary groan.

Milk put her arms around Love and ran one of her hands up to the back of Love's neck. Every movement of Milk's electrified Love. Love kissed Milk properly then, both their mouths open, and each movement of Milk's tongue against hers created an even more urgent need.

It started to feel like they were both wearing ten layers of clothes, and Love wanted them off. She moved her hand to the side of Milk's neck, then down her collarbone to the neckline of her white coat.

Love let her hand rest there, still kissing Milk urgently. Milk reached up and guided Love's hand over her clothes to her breast. Love cupped it and ran her thumb over the nipple, which she could just barely feel through the thick material.

Love heard herself give another moan from the back of her throat, which wasn't the most dignified sound, but luckily Milk also groaned and arched her back to press her breast more firmly into Love's grasp.

Milk pulled her face away from Love's and looked at her. Love realized how tightly she was grabbing Milk, one hand on her boob and one on her lower back, and Love relaxed her hold slightly, anticipating the mumbled apology and awkward goodbye she'd been dreading, but she wasn't physically able to let go of Milk.

Milk moved to Love again, stepping out of her sensible medium heeled shoes as she did so, and kissed Love's mouth, then Love's neck, then pressed her open mouth against Love's skin and ran her tongue along Love's collarbone.

Love gave an audible sharp intake of breath as her level of being turned on amped up further, beyond what she'd thought was possible. There action wasn't just from the unexpected feeling of Milk's mouth on Love's body, but the realization that Milk wanted Love's clothes off.

"Clothes?" It was all Love could manage to get out.

"Clothes," Milk replied, even though it sounded more like a question.

Milk undid the buttons of Love's shirt as Love undid her pants button and short zipper. As Milk pulled the shirt open, Love felt a moment's gratitude. It was early on in her washing cycle, so she happened to be wearing a new-ish pale blue lace bra and black briefs.

As Love stepped out of her pants and flat shoes, Milk ran her hand slowly down Love's side, looking at Love's body appreciatively until her fingers came to rest where the top of Love's undies met Love's hipbone.

Milk reached back with both hands and undid her bra, taking it off and letting it fall to the floor.

Milk placed both hands on the back of Love's neck as she kissed her. Milk's kisses became deeper and more uncontrolled as Love put both her hands on Milk's breasts, feeling their heavy softness and the nipples starting to harden.

Love stroked them with her thumbs. Milk gripped Love's shoulders tightly and her deep breaths became soft moans as Love brought her mouth to Milk's right breast and then her left, exploring with her lips and tongue until Milk's nipples were hard and had darkened to a deeper shade of pink.

Love undid her own bra and slid it off. Milk breathed in sharp bursts. The curve of Milk's torso up to her hips was pronounced and beautiful, her skin incredibly soft.

As Love's gaze slid over Milk's body back to her breasts, Milk moved her hand to gently run the tips of her fingers around Love's still erect nipple.

Love inhaled sharply and met Milk's gaze.

Milk smiled slightly. "I like the way you look at me," she said.

"What do you mean?" Love asked.

"You make me feel perfect."

"Well, aren't you?"

Love held Milk's gaze. She couldn't believe she was in her office with her bra unclasped and her nipples peeking out. She could believe, however, that she loved every bit of this feeling.

"I love the way you kiss me," Milk said.

"I think you stole my line," Love replied.

Soon they were both daringly naked and Love kissed Milk deeply and intensely, enjoying the feeling of their bodies being smooshed together again. Then she moved even lower, kissing Milk's body—her breasts, dropping to her knees to kiss her belly under her navel, and the points of her hipbones.

"You're so—" Milk gasped in appreciation, but she couldn't get to the end of the sentence.

She let out another gasp when Love kissed the inside of her upper thigh, and she opened her legs wide. Love moved her tongue slowly up, and Milk's gasps became a moan of pleasure as Love started working her clit.

Milk started to move her hips in a rocking motion, which became slightly faster as Love focused the motion of her tongue in long hungry strokes through Milk's wetness. Love increased the pressure as she hit Milk's clitoris and Milk let out a ragged sigh.

Milk's rocking motion increased pulling Love's head in tightly to grind against it. No longer was Love in control of the pleasure she was giving, Milk was taking it from her and it felt incredible as Love lost herself in the taste and sensation of her. Milk's breaths became ragged as she moved against Love, and each of her thrusts was punctuated with aloud groan of pleasure.

Then Milk's hand clutched the back of Love's neck and she moaned Love's name. Love looked up at her as Milk pulled her tightly in toward her pussy until she could barely breathe, saying, "I want you here with me, Love. I want you here."

"I'm here," Love said nodding as soon as Milk's grip released enough to allow her to respond.

"Good," Milk said, pulling her face tightly back in and grinding hard against it.

"Yes, that's it, baby. Make me come in your mouth." Milk groaned deep in the back of her throat as Love let Milk use her face and her tongue. Love had never experienced sex like it. She was more turned on than she thought she had ever been. Milk's breaths became quicker.

"Touch yourself, come with me," Milk looked down at her, eyes full of lust and Love moved her right hand to her own desperately wanting clit feeling it happily respond within seconds.

Love felt herself moaning into Milk's pussy. She felt so close. So very very close to her own orgasm.

Milk pulled her head tight in, grinding hard, "Come for me, now," Milk commanded and Love felt her body responding, her climax flooding through her in big delicious waves at the same time as Milk cried out gripping Love's hair and gushing all over her face as she did so.

"Fuuuck..." cried Milk, still gripping Love's hair as both their orgasms shuddered through their bodies.

Chapter Text

Milk stood there, her gaze locked on Love, trying to ground herself in the moment.

She knew she needed to say something—anything—to break the intensity that hung between them, but the words twisted in her throat as if she might reveal too much if she wasn't careful.

Love adjusted her shirt as she dressed, her fingers moving in a gentle, familiar way that made Milk's chest tighten. Everything about her felt calm, like she belonged here with Love. For a split second, Milk wondered what it would be like to be with Love for every waking moment.

The thought surprised her. She was already expecting so much.

Milk watched Love get ready. She admired the way Love's fingers moved deftly as she pulled on a crisp white shirt. Love's hair, usually tied back in a messy bun, was now styled in loose waves. She looked...different. More put together. A little more...desirable.

Milk felt a strange mix of emotions—excitement, anticipation, and a touch of fear. She'd never felt this way about someone before.

"You look...nice," Milk muttered, her voice barely audible.

Love turned to her, a playful glint in her eye. "Is that the best you can do, Milk? I expected more from you."

Milk rolled her eyes. "I'm not good at this lovey-dovey stuff."

Love chuckled. "You'll get the hang of it."

As Love applied a touch of lipstick, Milk couldn't help but stare. She was captivated by the way Love's lips moved, the way her eyes sparkled. She wanted to touch her, to taste her. But she hesitated.

Everything that had just happened was a blur—the kisses, the touches, the raw, unfiltered desire. It was exhilarating, terrifying, and utterly intoxicating.

"That was sensational," Love breathed.

"Blissful," Milk agreed. "No regrets."

They both laughed.

"We should've known," Love said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Remember how Namtan interrupted us earlier?"

Milk snorted. "Yeah, that."

"The body wants what it wants, I suppose," Love mused.

Milk feigned offense. "Oh, come on. Don't act all high and mighty now."

Love chuckled. "I'm just teasing. You were the one acting all icy earlier."

Milk rolled her eyes. "Was not."

Love smiled. "Sure, Milk. Sure."

Milk reached out and traced the lines of Love's face.

"I'm glad it happened," she said softly.

Love smiled. "Me, too."

"Want to come over?" The words left Milk's mouth before she could overthink them.

Love looked at her, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but then she nodded. "I'd love to. Just for a little while, though. I need to get Sophie from school soon."

They finished gathering their things, and Milk couldn't help glancing at Love as she ran a hand through her hair. She had a way of moving that was both graceful and grounded, something Milk found strangely comforting.

"It's strange," Love said, finally breaking the silence, "being this close and still feeling like we have so much to learn about each other."

Milk looked at her, appreciating the honesty in her words. "You're right. There's still a lot to discover."

Love's eyes met hers as a faint smile touched her lips. "But I don't mind taking the time to figure you out."

The words hit Milk in a way she hadn't expected, softening something inside her that she'd held tight for so long.

Milk stood there, her gaze fixed on Love as her mind slowly pieced together the events of their morning. She watched Love smooth out her shirt and adjust each button with a steady, practiced hand. The shirt framed her figure perfectly, and Milk found herself distracted by how well Love wore it.

Every gesture Love made felt deliberate and graceful. Milk's eyes traced the line of her collarbone, the curve of her neck, even the way her fingers moved to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

She looked so natural, as if she belonged right there, standing in front of Milk and taking her time. There was a calmness about her that both soothed and unsettled Milk.

"Did you say something?" Love looked up, noticing Milk's silence.

"No," Milk said, shaking her head slightly. "Just watching."

Love smirked. "I could tell."

Milk took a step back and crossed her arms, trying to maintain her usual calm. "You know, some people would consider your level of self-confidence impressive."

"Only impressive?" Love raised an eyebrow, teasing. "I expected more."

Milk rolled her eyes, letting out a small, reluctant smile. "You're ridiculous."

"Guess you'll have to get used to it." Love gave her a light shrug, a hint of mischief in her expression as she finished up her lipstick.

Milk watched, her heart doing a slow, steady drumbeat she didn't dare acknowledge. She forced herself to look away, straightening the sleeves of her own shirt, though her mind was anything but focused on the simple task.

Her thoughts were fragmented and scattered, all centered on the way she felt each time she was around Love.

Inwardly, Milk felt a flicker of something unguarded, some sense of ease that was both familiar and strange.

She hadn't allowed herself this kind of closeness in a long time, and she wasn't sure how to process it. But Love made it feel like she didn't have to overthink.

She reached out, her fingers tracing the line of Love's cheek, soft and reassuring. The gesture felt more honest than words.

They stepped out of the office together, and for a second, Milk felt a pang of nerves, almost as if someone might notice something had changed between them. She glanced sideways at Love, catching her small, knowing smile.

Their gaze locked, but the moment was interrupted by a familiar voice. "Well, well, look who's here!" Namtan's voice was unmistakably cheerful, her expression all too curious as she studied them.

Milk tensed slightly, hoping Namtan wasn't watching them too closely. Namtan's gaze was sharp, noticing every detail with that quiet, knowing glint in her eyes.

"Good morning," Milk replied, keeping her tone level.

Namtan raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. "You both look refreshed. If I didn't know better, I'd think—"

"Namtan," Milk interrupted quickly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, a faint heat creeping up her neck. "We have a lot to get done today."

Namtan chuckled, undeterred. "Sure, sure. Just making an observation." Her eyes sparkled with that same mischievous glint.

"Right," Milk muttered, ignoring the urge to roll her eyes.

Beside her, Love looked like she was trying to keep a straight face, but the faint smile playing at the edges of her lips betrayed her. Namtan's playful prodding didn't seem to faze her one bit.

They walked on, and Milk couldn't help but glance at Love, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

As they rounded the corner, they nearly collided with Emi, who gave them a mock salute. "Morning, you two," she said with a smirk, barely hiding her amusement.

She lifted a hand in a casual wave, but there was something knowing in her eyes, a glint that made Milk instantly wary.

"Emi," Milk replied, keeping her tone brisk and professional.

Emi raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, a playful grin on her face. "Don't mind me. Just passing by."

She cast them a final knowing look before walking off, leaving Milk feeling slightly exasperated.

Love let out a soft laugh as she glanced at Milk. "She can be quite the character."

Milk shook her head, stifling a small smile. "She's annoying."

Love shrugged. "She's nice when you get to know her."

They continued walking, the morning passing in a blur as they finished their rounds. As the day wore on, Milk's thoughts kept drifting back to Love, and she found herself fighting the urge to look in her direction more times than she cared to admit.

When they finally headed back toward the parking lot, Milk felt a strange mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

They walked to Milk's car in silence. As they reached it, Love's phone rang. She answered, her expression turning serious. Milk watched as Love listened intently, her brow furrowed.

"Alright," Love said. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

She hung up the phone and sighed. "Work," she explained. "Something's come up."

Disappointment washed over Milk. She'd hoped for a quiet afternoon, just the two of them. "Of course," she said, trying to hide her disappointment. "Go ahead. I'll be fine."

Love hesitated. "I just need to sign off on a treatment plan. It should only take a few minutes. Do you want to wait for me?"

"I'll be right here," Milk insisted. "Go."

Love gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks. I'll be back as soon as I can."

With that, she turned and walked back into the hospital. Milk watched her go with a strange mix of longing and relief. She was glad that Love was needed, that she was important. But she couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness that crept in.

She got into her car and sat there for a moment, lost in thought. She thought about Love, about the way she looked, the way she talked, the way she made her feel. She'd never felt anything this all-consuming before.

Her phone rang, startling her. It was View, her former colleague. Milk hesitated before answering, wondering what it was about.

"Hey, View," Milk said, trying to sound casual.

"Hi, Milk! How are you?"

"I'm good. How are you?"

"I'm fine. I was just calling to see how you're settling in at Phoenix Ridge."

"It's been good," Milk said, trying to keep the conversation short.

"I heard about your ex," View said, her voice soft. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

A lump formed in her throat.

"Thanks," Milk managed to say. "But I don't really want to talk about it."

"Of course, of course," View said quickly. "I just wanted to check in."

"I appreciate it," Milk said. "But I'm good."

"Okay," View said. "Well, if you ever need anything, just let me know."

"Thanks," Milk said. "I will."

She hung up the phone and sighed. She didn't know why View had called. Maybe she'd just wanted to catch up. Or maybe she'd had something else on her mind. Either way, Milk wasn't in the mood to talk about her ex.

She looked out the window, lost in thought.

A few minutes later, she saw Love walking toward her car. She was moving quickly, her expression determined. Milk watched her, admiring the way her hair fell around her face and how her eyes sparkled.

Love approached the car, a small smile playing on her lips. "Sorry, that took longer than I expected," she said.

"It's fine," Milk replied. "Shall we?"

Chapter Text

Love settled into the passenger seat of Milk's car, her mind racing. The offer of a visit to Milk's home had caught her off guard. She hadn't expected this invitation, but she did crave it.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Love asked, glancing at Milk as she turned the key in the ignition.

Milk stared ahead, her expression unreadable. "It's just a quick visit, since you have to pick up Sophie soon."

"Right," Love said. As they drove through the streets of Phoenix Ridge, the sunlight illuminated Milk's profile. Love found it hard to look away.

Milk shifted lanes, her grip on the steering wheel firm. "You've been quiet."

"I'm just thinking," Love replied. "About how you've changed since you got here."

"Changed?" Milk repeated, her tone icy. "I'm still the same."

Love let out a soft laugh. "You were a lot colder when we first met."

"I can be warm," Milk said flatly.

Love raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the mood light. "Oh, definitely. Icebergs have warmth, too."

Milk shot her a look, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. "Very funny."

They continued in silence, the hum of the car engine filling the air. Love took in the scenery outside, the vibrant colors of the city blurring past. She shifted in her seat.

"What about you? Do you like it here?" Milk asked abruptly.

"I do," Love said, trying to gauge Milk's mood. "The weather's nice. And the hospital feels like home."

"Home," Milk echoed, her voice devoid of warmth. "That's a strong word."

Love's stomach tightened. "You don't think of it as home?"

Milk hesitated. "It's the place I work. I wouldn't call it home."

Love sensed the emotional wall Milk had built. "What would you call it, then?"

"Just a stopover," Milk replied.

"Is that how you feel about everything?" Love pressed, curiosity edging her tone.

Milk glanced at her, her expression hard. "Sometimes you just have to focus on the task at hand."

"Right. Just work," Love said, her heart sinking. "No room for anything else?"

Milk's gaze returned to the road, her jaw tightening. "It's easier that way."

Love sighed, frustrated. "Easier? Or safer?"

"Safer," Milk answered, her tone final.

As they approached Milk's neighborhood, Love observed the houses lining the street. Each one had its own character, but they all exuded a kind of warmth that felt absent in Milk's demeanor. When they reached Milk's home, it stood modestly, its earth tones blending into the surroundings.

"Here we are," Milk said, opening her door.

Love followed her to the front door, taking in the well-kept yard. Flowers bloomed in vibrant colors, a stark contrast to the coldness radiating from Milk.

Milk unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Love. "Welcome to my place."

Love stepped in, her heart pounding as she took in the surroundings. The entryway was bright, decorated with simple artwork and photographs.

They moved into the living room, where sunlight streamed through large windows. The room felt comfortable but sterile, as if Milk kept apart of herself hidden away, even here.

"It's nice," Love said, trying to break through the ice. "I like the light in here."

Milk shrugged, moving to the couch. "It's just a room."

Love settled beside her, searching for something to spark a connection. "You know, you could fill it with more stuff. It feels a bit empty."

"Less clutter means less distraction," Milk replied coolly.

Love leaned forward, her heart racing. "Is that how you live your life? No distractions?"

Milk met her gaze, a challenge in her eyes. "Distractions lead to complications. I prefer simple things."

Love hesitated. "What makes you happy?"

"I find happiness in my work," Milk replied, her expression hardening.

"Work is important," Love said, "but what about life outside the hospital?"

Milk looked away. "I don't have time for that."

"Do you ever think about what you're missing?" Love pressed.

"I'm not missing anything," Milk shot back, her tone sharp.

Love felt a pang in her chest. "You can't know that unless you try."

"Trying leads to disappointment," Milk said.

"Or it leads to something beautiful," Love countered, leaning closer.

Milk's gaze softened for a moment, but she quickly masked it. "I prefer to keep things in my control."

Love took a breath, frustration bubbling to the surface. "But control isn't everything. You have to let go sometimes."

"Letting go can be dangerous," Milk said.

"Maybe," Love said, "but so is holding on too tight."

Silence settled between them, heavy with unsaid feelings. Love wanted to reach out and pull Milk from the shadows, but the wall around her was impenetrable.

"Want some coffee?" Milk finally asked.

"Yes, please," Love replied, grateful for the distraction.

Milk stood and walked to the kitchen, her movements purposeful. Love watched her, noting the tension in her shoulders. Milk was a woman of strength, yet she hid behind layers of ice.

While Milk prepared the coffee, Love tried to gather her thoughts. She knew there was warmth beneath Milk's exterior. She just had to find a way to unlock it.

"Do you drink it black?" Milk called from the kitchen.

"Only when I need to wake up," Love replied, forcing a smile.

Milk returned with two mugs, placing one in front of Love. The rich aroma filled the air. Love took a sip, the warmth spreading through her immediately.

"So," Love said. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Let's talk about Sophie," Milk suggested. "What does she like to do?"

"She likes to draw," Love said with a smile. "And she loves to dance."

"Dancing?" Milk looked unconvinced. "Does she take classes?"

Love nodded. "Yes. She's quite talented. Maybe I should take some lessons, too," Love joked. "I could use the exercise."

"Good luck with that," Milk replied, her tone playful but guarded.

"Come on, you should join me," Love encouraged. "We could be a dance duo."

Milk laughed lightly. "I don't think anyone is ready for that."

"Why not? It would be fun," Love said, her heart racing at the thought of bringing Milk out of her shell.

"Fun isn't my priority," Milk replied, her gaze shuttering.

"Maybe it should be," Love said softly.

Milk's expression darkened. "Not everyone has the luxury of fun."

Love felt the sting of Milk's words. "You can find joy in small things. It doesn't have to be a big deal."

"Joy is fleeting," Milk said firmly.

"But it's worth it," Love insisted. "Don't you want to feel it?"

Milk paused, her gaze locking with Love's. "Sometimes feeling can hurt more than not feeling."

Love leaned forward, her heart aching for Milk. "But shutting yourself off won't protect you. It just makes you lonely."

"Loneliness is easier," Milk replied.

Love's heart sank. "You don't have to be lonely."

"Don't presume to know what I need," Milk said tightly.

Love took a breath, gathering her thoughts. "I just want you to see there's more to life than work and walls."

Milk's expression softened, if only for a moment. "It's complicated."

"Life is complicated," Love said. "But it can be beautiful, too."

They stood in silence. Love wished she could reach out and breakthrough the barriers, to show Milk that life didn't have to be so bleak.

"I need to go pick up Sophie," Love said finally, breaking the moment.

Milk nodded. "Of course. I understand."

As they stood on the threshold, Love wanted more time with Milk. She took a breath, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin.

"Are you sure you have to go?" Milk asked, her eyes searching Love's face.

Love looked into Milk's eyes and noticed a softness there, a hint of something unguarded. "I mean, I could stay a little longer, but I don't want to keep you. I still have about an hour before I have to get Sophie, but I didn't want to overstay my welcome."

Milk's lips curled slightly, but the playfulness didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sophie would probably prefer I drive you to school instead of Bonnie."

"Oh, is that an invitation?" Love teased, leaning against the doorframe.

"Maybe," Milk replied, a small smirk appearing on her face. "She seems to like me."

"Seems to? You're her favorite," Love said, crossing her arms.

"Only because I helped her build a pillow fort at Namtan's," Milk shot back, her tone lightening.

Love laughed. "If that's your secret weapon, then I'll have to step up my game."

"Good luck with that," Milk said, raising an eyebrow.

The banter warmed the space between them. Love's heart raced as she admired Milk. The sunlight caught the angles of her face, highlighting her cheekbones and jawline. There was a beauty in her seriousness, a grace that pulled Love in.

Milk adjusted slightly, her body language shifting from tense to more relaxed.

"I want to know more about you," Love said, unable to help herself. "What makes you tick when you're not at the hospital?"

Milk took a step closer, the space between them diminishing. "You mean I'm not a complete bore outside of work?"

"Not even close," Love said, her heart pounding. "You just keep that side of yourself hidden."

Milk's gaze shifted, and Love noticed the subtle changes in her expression. The light in Milk's eyes sparked a thrill within Love. The world outside faded as she focused on the woman in front of her.

"You think I'm interesting?" Milk asked.

"I know you are," Love said softly, the sincerity behind her words hanging between them.

Milk stepped even closer, their faces nearly touching. "What else do you know about me?"

Love's breath caught in her throat. "I know you have a sharp wit. And you have a passion for your work."

Milk's lips twitched, a hint of a smile playing on them. "What if I told you I have a secret talent for karaoke?"

"Really?" Love asked, trying to mask her surprise. "I could see you as a power ballad singer."

"Only when no one is watching," Milk replied, her eyes sparkling with a challenge.

"Well, I want to watch," Love said.

Milk tilted her head, considering. "I don't know if I can handle that level of exposure. All I want right now is right here."

Love smiled, and Milk moved closer.

"Not even for me?" Love asked.

"Maybe if you can charm me," Milk replied.

Love's breath caught in her throat. "I might be able to do that."

Milk swooped down, taking Love's lips in a slow, sensual kiss. Love's eyelids snapped shut, consumed by the warmth against her lips. Her hands moved up Milk's waist as she savored every bit of the kiss.

Her thighs tingled as heat pooled between her legs. Damn, she wanted to be fucked so bad. But Milk pulled away.

"I thought I was supposed to be charming you?" Love breathed.

Milk chuckled. "You already have."

Love moistened her lips. "Care to show me some other parts of your house?"

She loved the glint in Milk's eyes. "Sure."

Love stood in the center of Milk's living room, the muted light from a single lamp casting a soft glow across the modern furniture. Milk's hands brushed against her waist, pulling her closer. Their lips met again, slower this time.

"You're sure about this?" Milk said.

Love nodded, her breath catching. "Yes."

Milk tilted her head, studying her for a moment, then leaned in to kiss her again. The kiss deepened, and Love's hands moved to the lapels of Milk's jacket, tugging her closer. The warmth of their proximity was undeniable.

"I think we should start the tour in the bedroom," Milk said, breaking the kiss briefly.

Love nodded again, her voice caught somewhere in her throat. Milk took her hand, guiding her toward the hallway. The wood floors felt cool beneath Love's feet. Along the way, Milk pressed her gently against the wall, kissing her again, her hands sliding to Love's hips.

"You're stunning," Milk said against her lips.

Love exhaled sharply. "You're not bad yourself."

Milk smirked, leading her the rest of the way. The door to the bedroom creaked softly as Milk pushed it open. The room was neat, the bed made with crisp white sheets and pillows arranged perfectly. Love barely had time to take it in before Milk pulled her closer again, their bodies moving as though there was nothing else in the world.

Milk's hand grazed Love's cheek, and her voice softened. "Still okay?"

Love nodded, stepping toward the bed as Milk followed, their movements synced without effort. The weight of the moment settled between them, everything silent except for the sound of their breathing and the occasional rustle of fabric.

Love gasped as Milk swooped down and began to kiss her again, even more passionately, wrapping her strong arms around her to lift her onto the bed.

Love reached over and tugged off Milk's shirt, exposing the most arousing sight Love had ever beheld. Her breasts were round and voluptuous, heaving out from under a tight white tank top.

"You like those, huh?" Milk asked, seeing her eyes light up at the sight.

"Fuck, they're beautiful," Love said. "You're beautiful."

Love moved closer and kissed Milk again. She slowly tugged at Milk's tank top, then pulled away from the kiss and pulled it over her head. Milk's large, dark nipples were hard. Love attacked them, rubbing and sucking each one.

Milk fell back down on the bed as Love hungrily sucked on one nipple and then the other. She closed her eyes and lovingly ran her fingers through Love's hair. Then she suddenly grabbed a section of Love's hair and jerked upward, looking into Love's excited eyes.

"Let me take off your clothes, baby," Milk said quietly.

She made short work of Love's pants, shirt and bra leaving her in only see-through panties that untied at the sides.

"I won't hurt you, baby," Milk murmured as she began to massage Love's pale, smaller breasts. She rolled the pink nipples between her fingertips as she kissed her neck passionately. She kissed downward until she reached Love's breasts, then sucked and nibbled on them while her hands migrated down the soft, round body before her and untied her panties. They fell away effortlessly, and she slid two fingers teasingly through her wetness. Love groaned. She felt like she might explode, she was so wet.

Suddenly she felt Milk's fingers thrust inside her and she jumped.

"Oh, god.."

"Is this ok?" Milk asked and Love nodded enthusiastically. "More than ok, you feel amazing."

"Good," Milk smiled beginning to fuck Love with her fingers.

Milk laid her down on her back as Love's hips bucked slowly against her hand. Love felt so desperate to be fucked hard by her. Milk sat up suddenly removing her fingers.

"Please," Love begged. "I need you to fuck me."

"I've got a surprise for you," Milk said.

Love moaned in response, craving to be filled again.

Milk opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out an orange case. From it, she produced the largest strap on dildo Love had ever seen. Her breath caught.

"Someone's a wild one," Love said.

"Mhm," Milk replied. "Want to help me get this on?" she said as she stepped into the harness pulling it up over her long smooth legs.

Desire coursed through Love's bloodstream. Her heart thrummed fast.

"Come over here," Love said.

Milk rejoined her on the bed.

Love looked up in anticipation at the dildo, almost drooling with desire. She grabbed it and strapped Milk in place. Their lips met again, this time with pure, unbridled desire.

Milk moved to lay on top of her, looked directly into her eyes as Love parted her legs, and asked, "Do you want it?"

Love could only nod vigorously and smile. Milk grabbed another handful of her hair and pulled it her head back, making Love even hotter. She guided the thick rod into Love's trembling, dripping pussy, sending her whirling over the edge of ecstasy, awash in a flood of colors and lights, warmth and moans.

Milk started the rhythmic pumping of the dildo in and out of her and before long Love felt her climax building.

"Oh, god... harder... please... I'm going to...." before she could finish speaking, her orgasm rushed through every inch of her body. She felt herself squirting all over the bed.

"Oh, fuck, baby, you are so hot when you come for me like that. You think you can take more?"

Love wasn't sure, but she was so desperately excited and turned on and Milk was so strong and powerful wearing that strap, her rhythm was exquisite. Love nodded.

Milk repositioned Love pulling her legs up so they were over Milk's shoulders as Milk knelt between her legs and thrust into her again.

"Oh fuck..." Love felt her legs begin to quiver. Maybe she could go again. She relaxed into the rhythm of Milk's fucking, happily losing herself in it in ways she wasn't usually able to.

She felt herself building to a peak again.

"Oh fuck... harder... please..."

Milk smiled and began to fuck her harder. "Come for me, baby," Milk's bright eyes were full of lust as they burned into her.

Love felt the dildo so deep inside her, stretching her wide open and making her feel more than she ever had.

She came again, hard, her orgasm rushing through her and once again soaking the bed.

"I like it when you squirt all over my bed," Milk smiled smugly and Love could barely speak as she felt Milk thrusting into her again.

Milk kept on fucking her and Love surprised herself in that her orgasms just kept on coming and blurring into each other. Love felt herself wildly screaming and digging her nails into the flexing back of her lover losing herself in ways she never had before.

"Deeper," she moaned, "keep fucking me... this is so good..." and was eagerly obliged. Milk ground it in to the base, their pussies crashing together with each impaling stroke.

"I need to come now," Love opened her eyes to see Milk again reluctantly pulling out of her, who whimpered with disappointment.

"I want you inside me," Milk said, her voice husky with excitement as she furiously unbuckled the harness. It was tossed aside when she was free of it, and she lay back down, gently caressing Love's face.

She drew her closer and they kissed passionately.

Love sat up and draped herself half over Milk's sticky body. She gazed into her eyes and smiled with a heart full of the purest love as she slipped her hand down toward her wetness.

As her hand brushed it, Milk spread her legs for her, giving herself to her lover. Love began to rub her clit in soft, quick, circular motions, making her breathe even heavier, and a few quiet moans arose from her chest.

Milk slowly opened her eyes and looked imploringly at Love.

"Inside, please," she begged in a ragged whisper as her hips thrust of their own volition.

Love ran her fingers down until she got to Milk's entrance. She slid two fingers in slowly, almost artfully. She fit perfectly inside. It was as though they were made to be together.

Her fingers found Milk's G-spot. She began to thrust against it, in and out, her thumb against Milk's clitoris, desperate to please her lover.

"Oh, please, baby, make me come!" she shouted, grabbing Love and holding her as tightly as possible.

A few more well-placed thrusts against her G-spot, and Love could feel her fingers being squeezed by the rhythmic pulsations of Milk's orgasm.

Milk screeched and pushed her hips completely off the bed, her juices flowing freely out of her. Love kept her hand still and savored the feeling of her lover's climax pulsing around her fingers. She kissed her breasts tenderly as they both settled blissfully in each other's arms.

"That was—" Love began.

"Perfect," Milk said.

They lapsed into silence, with just their breathing between them.

That's when a loud knock echoed through the house. Both women jolted back, the moment shattering.

"Neighbors?" Love asked.

"You're kidding, right?" Milk said.

Love shrugged. "You didn't order anything?"

"Nope."

Milk was already off the bed and tugging her clothes on. There was another knock, followed by the doorbell. Whoever it was wanted an immediate answer.

"Could be some salesperson," Love said. She glanced at her clothes scattered all over the bed. "We've got a handful here in Phoenix Ridge."

"I'll go find out," Milk said.

Love waited until after the door shut behind Milk. Then she stood and picked up her pants. She wanted to be dressed by the time Milk got back. She took one look at the dildo on the bed and smiled.

Damn.

Milk should be back soon, she thought. With just her pants on, she moved to the door and peeked outside. She'd barely gotten the door open when she heard Milk gasp.

"Mom?"

Mom? Love blinked. Milk hadn't told her that her parents would be visiting. She hurried back to the bed and grabbed the rest of her clothes.

Shit.

Chapter Text

Milk swallowed, staring at her parents in front of her.

Her mom wore a tailored navy blazer over perfectly pressed slacks. Her eyes, like Milk's, glinted beautifully, blending perfectly with her low-cut dark hair.

Her dad was dressed in a plain white shirt and black pants, but the smile he wore didn't reach his eyes.

"Milk," her mom said.

"Hi," Milk replied, trying to mask her shock. "How did you find me?"

Her mom rolled her eyes. "What a way to welcome your parents."

Milk sighed. "How did you know where I live?"

Her dad chuckled. "I'm Dr. Vosbein, honey. You didn't think I could call in a few favors to find out my own daughter's address?"

"Even here in Phoenix Ridge?" Milk asked, shocked.

"If there's a hospital, I'm pretty sure they've heard of me."

Milk's shoulders sagged.

"Would you like to welcome us in now?" her mom added. "Or would you rather have your parents stand outside like tourists?"

She stepped aside, allowing them in.

They entered stiffly, glancing around with barely concealed judgment. Milk followed them into the living room. She felt like a deer in headlights.

"Your place is...interesting," Mom said, surveying the room with a critical eye.

"Thanks," Milk replied, unable to keep the edge from her voice.

She heard footsteps behind her. She turned to find Love walking into the living room with wide eyes. Milk could feel the questions radiating off of her.

"Dad, Mom," Milk began. "I want you to meet—"

"You like these bold colors?" Her dad crossed his arms, his gaze settling on the décor.

Milk shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't realize you were an interior designer."

Her dad touched the walls, looking at the space. "Looks a bit empty, doesn't it? I expected more from you."

Milk clenched her jaw, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. "I like it this way."

Mom turned her attention to Milk. "If you'd answered our calls, we wouldn't have come unannounced," she said sharply.

"I've been busy," Milk shot back, frustration creeping into her voice. "I can't always be available."

"Busy with what exactly? This?" Her dad motioned around the room.

Milk stole another glance at Love. Love's presence brought her some comfort. But her parents barely acknowledged Love's existence. Their focus remained solely on Milk.

"What are you doing with your life now?" Mom asked, crossing her arms.

"Why do you care?" Milk replied, her temper flaring.

Mom's eyes narrowed. "Of course we care; you're our daughter. You've changed so much since we last saw you."

"Changed?" Milk shot back, unable to hide the hurt in her voice. "Maybe I've just grown up."

Her dad leaned forward slightly. "Are you really happy here? This place seems...off. Like you're trying to prove something."

Milk clenched her fists at her sides. "What's wrong with trying to be happy?"

"Nothing, unless it's a façade," Mom replied, her tone condescending.

Milk's heart raced with the familiar pressure of their judgment. "It's not a façade. I'm doing well at work. I'm happy."

"Happy? With the way you've chosen to live?" Her dad asked, tilting his head. "Your career, your life choices...you need to explain yourself."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Just tell us if you're content with this," Mom pressed.

"Of course I'm content!" Milk snapped, her voice rising.

Love shifted slightly, and Milk felt a pang of protectiveness toward her. She didn't deserve to be pulled into this.

"Would you two just stop for a minute?" Milk said. Her voice was a tad louder than she'd intended, but she wasn't sorry.

Her parents turned to face her. Milk turned slightly to Love. "This is Love Pattranite, my friend."

Love smiled. "Hi, nice to meet you."

Milk's parents nodded.

"Just a friend?" her dad asked, his eyebrow arched.

"Why does it matter?" Milk shot back. "I invited her here."

"You invite friends over for dinner, Milk," Mom said, her voice dripping with thinly veiled judgment. "Not for whatever this is."

Milk imagined they both smelled like sex.

Milk stood her ground. "This is my life. You don't get to dictate who's in it."

"So, Milk," Mom said. "So it's another relationship again?"

Milk stiffened, stunned. "How can you even bring that up?"

"Nicole wasn't a good match for you," her dad added. "You were meant for better things than that relationship."

Milk clenched her fists, annoyance bubbling up. "Dad!"

"What?"

"Still, it's hard not to wonder," Mom mused. "Since then, you've only been involved in temporary relationships. What does that say about you?"

Love shifted in her seat, discomfort radiating off her. Milk glanced at her, feeling a wave of guilt. This was supposed to be a pleasant visit. Instead, it was a minefield.

"Love seems nice," Mom offered, glancing at Love. "But it's important to consider the longevity of your relationships. Temporary flings can become a pattern. They make you look flighty and afraid of commitment."

"Do you really want to keep repeating the past?" her dad added. "You deserve someone stable."

Milk took a deep breath. "You haven't even asked what I want."

"What you want?" Mom questioned. "Last I checked, you pick partners who have no chance at being good enough for you."

Milk glanced in Love's direction, but she was glancing at her watch.

"Would you like some coffee?" Milk offered, desperate for a distraction.

"Coffee?" Mom's brow furrowed. "That's bad for your health. You know that."

"Just one cup won't hurt," Milk said quickly, trying to lighten the mood.

Her father shook his head. "Caffeine is linked to anxiety and insomnia. You're a surgeon, Milk. You know better."

Milk fought the urge to roll her eyes. "It's just coffee, not a death sentence."

"Your health is a priority," Mom interjected. "We only want what's best for you."

"I'm doing just fine," Milk snapped. "And I can make my own choices."

"Your choices impact your future," her dad said. "You've lost sight of that."

Love watched the exchange, her expression tense. Milk hated that she had to witness this.

"Do you know what coffee does to your body?" Mom continued, unrelenting. "It raises your heart rate. It dehydrates you. You should be setting a better example, especially now that you have a friend here."

She said "friend" with a suggestive drawl.

Love cleared her throat, trying to ease the tension. "I drink coffee sometimes. It can be nice."

Mom turned her gaze sharply to Love. "That's a poor choice. If you're a friend of Milk's, you should be encouraging her to live healthily."

Milk noticed Love tense, her shoulders stiffening. She wanted to apologize and take Love away from this relentless scrutiny.

"Why can't you just be supportive?" Milk asked, desperation creeping into her tone.

Mom glanced at Love, then back to Milk. "We are supportive, Milk. But we want you to succeed."

"Success doesn't look the same for everyone," Love chimed in softly. "Milk is thriving in her way."

Milk caught Love's eye. There was a hint of admiration there that fueled her determination.

"See?" Milk pointed at Love. "Not everyone shares your views. We're all different."

"Different doesn't mean better," her dad replied.

Milk took a breath, biting back frustration. "You're not listening. You want to mold me into someone I'm not."

"Maybe we're trying to help you avoid pain," Mom countered.

"Pain? Is that what you think this is?" Milk snapped. "I'm trying to find my way, not live in your shadow."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Milk looked at Love, whose expression had grown troubled.

"Can we change the subject?" Love finally asked.

Mom regarded Love with suspicion. "What else is there to talk about?"

Milk sighed. "I'll get you two some tea."

Milk slipped into the kitchen, the hum of voices following her. She filled a kettle with water and set it on the stove. The clang of pots and pans echoed as she tried to get her temper under control.

Her hands moved carefully as she selected a box of herbal tea. She wanted everything to be perfect.

As she waited for the kettle to boil, she strained to hear the conversation. Her parents' voices were steady. Love's voice chimed in, light and warm. It felt different from the chill that surrounded her parents.

She wondered what they were talking about. The kettle whistled, pulling her back to the kitchen.

Milk poured the boiling water into the teapot and then added the teabags. She hoped the warmth of the tea would ease the atmosphere when she returned.

When she finished, she took a deep breath and walked back to the living room. Her parents sat stiffly on the couch, their eyes fixed on Love.

Love cleared her throat. "Mrs. Pansa, I—"

"Pansa?" Milk's mom interrupted. "I'm Dr. Vosbein!"

Milk sighed.

"Milk," her dad said. "You're using a different last name?"

Love frowned, and Milk's heart raced. She hadn't thought about her name in this context. It had been her choice to distance herself, and it had always felt more like freedom than rebellion.

"It's my choice," Milk said.

"It seems childish." Her dad frowned. "You're still family."

Love shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands tightening in her lap. Milk's chest constricted. She wanted to defend herself. Instead, she glanced at Love, her expression now unreadable.

"Maybe I should be on my way," Love said softly. "I have to pick up Sophie soon."

Milk's stomach dropped. She wanted to say something to hold Love back, but the words caught in her throat.

"I'm sorry, Love," Milk started, stepping forward. "I didn't mean for—"

"It's fine," Love interrupted, her smile strained. "I just need to get Sophie from school. It's almost two."

Milk's heart sank. "You don't have to leave yet. We can talk about this."

Love stood, her body tense. "No, really. It's okay. My ride is already pulling up."

Milk followed her to the door. "Love, please wait."

"Milk. I'll see you later."

Love opened the door, her smile faltering. The sun poured in, casting a warm glow on her face. Milk wanted to reach out and pull her back in, but she could see the resolve in Love's eyes.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Love said.

"I will. Just...please don't let them get to you."

Love hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I'll be fine. I'll text you later."

With that, she stepped outside. Milk watched as Love walked to the waiting car. As she watched it drive away, she felt a sense of loss. She'd wanted this to be a good day. The second she stepped back into the living room, the last of Love's warmth faded, leaving her completely isolated with her parents.

"She seems nice," Mom offered, but Milk could hear the underlying skepticism in her tone.

"Stop," Milk said, frustration bubbling over. "Just stop."

"What are you afraid of?" her dad asked, crossing his arms.

"Afraid?" Milk echoed, incredulous. "I'm not afraid. I'm trying to live my life and be happy."

"There you go with your talk of happiness again," her dad replied, his tone clipped. "You need stability."

"Stability doesn't mean sacrificing who I am," Milk retorted.

"Then why do you hide behind a different name?" Mom pressed.

"I'm not hiding anything," Milk shot back. "It's my choice, and you need to respect that."

Mom sighed, her demeanor softening slightly. "We only want what's best for you."

Milk shook her head. "What's best for me is to be myself. I can't keep living in your shadow."

Milk could feel the walls closing in. She wanted to fight back, but felt exhausted. She'd been fighting for so long.

"We're just concerned," her dad said finally, his tone more subdued.

"I don't need your concern," Milk said. "I need your support."

Her parents remained silent. Milk turned and headed back to the kitchen, needing to escape. She poured herself a cup of tea, letting the warmth seep into her hands.

She would not be defined by their expectations. She'd find her own path, with or without their approval.

Milk stared at her phone screen, her finger hovering over Love's name. She dialed, holding her breath as the line rang.

No answer.

Her stomach tightened and she set the phone down, forcing herself to stay calm. She couldn't blame Love. She could only blame the situation she'd let unfold.

She drained her cup of tea in one gulp, the bitter taste grounding her. She set the empty cup in the sink with a slight clink. It felt too quiet now that Love was gone.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back toward the living room where her parents waited. She could hear their low voices, probably discussing her like they always did. She straightened her shoulders, ready to go back in and face them.

She wasn't letting them win this time. She wouldn't let them keep her chained to their ideals or keep her from being happy. And Love...Love made her happy.

Milk walked back into the room, resolved. She was certain of one thing—she loved Love.

Chapter Text

Love was done.

She wasn't new to disappointment, to feeling like she wasn't enough for someone. Her last relationship had done a number on her.

But she'd wanted Milk to be different. For weeks, Love had allowed herself to feel like maybe, just maybe, this wasn't just some game. But today had made it clear that Milk had kept her at a distance and hidden parts of herself Love had thought she'd finally been let into. And now here she was, feeling foolish for believing in someone else's potential.

She leaned back against the seat, pressing her head against the cool glass window and crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Bonnie glanced at her through the rearview mirror with a questioning gaze, but Love stayed quiet, looking anywhere but her reflection.

They drove in silence for several minutes. Love's eyes drifted to the passing streets, the smiling passersby seeming to mock her swirling thoughts.

Nothing could distract her from the ache in her chest.

Bonnie cleared her throat. "Rough day?"

Love let out a heavy sigh. She hadn't planned on talking, but Bonnie's gentle question broke through her resolve.

"You could say that," Love said.

Bonnie's gaze flicked back to the road. "Want to talk about it?"

Love's jaw tightened. "Not sure what good it would do." She paused and glanced down at her hands. "But yeah, maybe."

They passed a few blocks in silence before Love spoke again. "I just thought I mattered to someone. That they saw me. That they wanted me."

Bonnie nodded, keeping her gaze on the road. "And they didn't?"

Love shook her head. "They kept me at arm's length. Made me feel like I was important, but only on their terms. Like I'm just a distraction from whatever else is going on in their life."

Bonnie listened, her hands steady on the wheel. "Sounds like they don't know what they want."

Love looked away, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. "Maybe. Or maybe they do know what they want, and it's not me."

Bonnie's expression softened, her gaze flickering to Love in the rearview mirror. "Did you tell them what you wanted?"

Love's chest tightened. She'd thought Milk understood her. But maybe that was her mistake—assuming that someone else would understand without her needing to say it out loud.

She pressed her lips together, refusing to let herself fall into that trap of blaming herself.

"I shouldn't have to spell it out," Love said finally, her voice edged with frustration. "Shouldn't she love me enough to know?"

"Same way you could tell what they wanted?" Love gave a small shrug. "Sometimes people can't see what's right in front of them unless you make it clear, even if it seems obvious to you."

Love's jaw clenched as she considered that. She'd shown Milk how much she cared, hadn't she? She'd given her time and attention, and even let her guard down in ways she hadn't in years.

But she hadn't told her outright that she wanted more.

"Maybe," she said, almost to herself. "Maybe I was waiting for her to make the first move, to show me she was ready to commit."

Bonnie nodded thoughtfully. "So you waited for her to say what you wanted her to say, but she never did?"

Love blinked, feeling a prick of irritation. "It's not like that. I'm not asking for a grand gesture. Just honesty."

"Sometimes people think they're protecting you by keeping things unsaid. But maybe it's just that they're scared...scared of messing things up."

Love frowned, her mind going back to the look in Milk's eyes when her parents had shown up unannounced. She'd looked defensive and tense, like she was bracing for impact. Maybe she was scared, just like Love had been, of admitting what she wanted. But even that didn't make the sting of today's encounter any easier to bear.

"It shouldn't be this hard," she said. "I don't want to feel like I'm constantly fighting just to feel close to her."

Bonnie's eyes met Love's in the mirror. "If you told her how you felt, do you think she'd listen?"

Love hesitated. "I don't know. Maybe." She rubbed her hands against the seat, the feeling of the cold leather pressing into her palms grounding her. "But if she hasn't figured it out by now, maybe it's because she doesn't want to."

Bonnie sighed. "Or maybe it's because you both keep holding back. You're waiting for her, so maybe she's waiting for you."

Love looked down, her heart pounding. "I can't keep doing this, can I?" she murmured.

Bonnie said nothing for a long moment. "Only you know what you can and can't do. But if you keep holding back, you'll never know what could have been."

Love's fingers dug into her palms. She knew Bonnie was right, as much as she hated to admit it. She'd spent so much of her life protecting herself that talking about her feelings out loud felt terrifying.

But she also knew that staying on the sidelines, watching as her feelings went unspoken and unreturned, was a torture she couldn't bear.

Love leaned back and closed her eyes. She could still see the image of Milk in her mind, standing there with her arms crossed, a look of guarded strength on her face.

She wanted to believe that Milk cared for her, that this wasn't just a game or a fling. But trusting that, letting herself hope, felt like opening herself up to the possibility of another heartbreak.

"Maybe I just need to talk to her," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I need to stop waiting."

Bonnie nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Sounds like a good start."

Love met her gaze in the mirror, feeling a strange, hesitant warmth settle in her chest. "Thanks," she said, her voice soft but steady.

Bonnie gave a small nod, her gaze warm. "Anytime."

The school came into view as the car slowed. Love leaned forward, her heart warming as she spotted Sophie standing near the gate with a big grin on her face. She was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Mommy!" Sophie's voice rang out as she spotted the car. She sprinted over as soon as Love opened the door, wrapping her arms around her mom's legs.

"Hey, sweet pea!" Love said, ruffling Sophie's hair. "Missed you."

"I missed you too, Mommy," Sophie said, grinning up at her. Then she noticed Bonnie and her smile widened even more. She darted over to her, giving her a quick, enthusiastic hug. "Hi!"

"Hi, Sophie!" Bonnie said, laughing as she hugged her back. Her eyes were brighter than usual, a smile lingering on her face longer than Love was used to seeing.

As they climbed back into the car, Love glanced at Bonnie, curious. For as long as she'd known Bonnie, this was the happiest she'd ever seen her.

"Bonnie," Love called. "You seem...different today. What's up?"

Bonnie held up her left hand, flashing a small, simple ring. "Just got engaged," she said, her grin widening.

Love gasped, reaching out to touch her hand. "You're kidding! This is amazing!" Guilt creeped in as she realized she'd been so absorbed in her world that she hadn't even noticed. "I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner."

Bonnie laughed. "It's okay. You had a lot on your mind."

"Still," Love said, looking back at the ring. "We have to celebrate this!"

They were silent for a few moments, only the soft murmur of the car engine filling the space. Then Love had an idea.

"Come in with us when we get back. I have a bottle of wine I've been saving for a special occasion. This feels like a good one."

Bonnie's eyes lit up. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Of course," Love said. "And consider it my apology for being so wrapped up in my mess."

When they arrived back at Love's house, Sophie dashed inside, eager to wash up and show off some art project she'd made in class. Love led the way to the kitchen, gesturing for Bonnie to sit as she grabbed the wine and two glasses from the cabinet.

As she poured, Love leaned in, her curiosity getting the best of her. "So, who's the lucky one? Anyone I know?"

Bonnie took a deep breath, her eyes sparkling. "Emi."

Love's eyebrows shot up. "Emi? Dr. Emi Thasorn, who works at the hospital with me?"

Bonnie laughed. "Yes, that Emi."

Love tried to process it. Emi was the same person who loved to tease her endlessly about Milk, always making sly comments that left her flustered. Yet now, hearing this, she felt a bit of warmth spread through her.

"I'm surprised," Love said with a laugh. "She's always giving me a hard time about Milk."

"Oh, she talks about you a lot," Bonnie said, leaning forward with a mischievous smile. "Says she admires you. Quite a bit."

Love blinked, taken aback. "Emi? Really?"

"Yes. She's always saying how driven you are."

Love shook her head. "She has a funny way of showing it."

They each took a sip, and Love set down her glass and glanced over at her. "Be honest with me. Did you know I was talking about Milk the whole time in the car?"

Bonnie tilted her head, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "Milk?"

"Come on, don't play coy with me," Love said.

Bonnie laughs. "You mean the beautiful new surgeon with an eye for no one else but you. The ice—"

"Don't call her that," Love said with a little laugh. "Emi did tell you a lot."

"She likes to talk about people at the hospital."

"So you did know who I was talking about."

Bonnie shrugged. "Well, I wasn't sure then. But now I am."

Love let out a soft laugh. "Guess I made it kind of obvious."

Bonnie leaned back, looking thoughtful. "So...any chance of a proposal happening with you two?"

Love choked on her wine, her eyes widening as she sputtered, "Oh, no, nothing like that. Not even close."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."

Love shook her head, laughing. "I promise. Besides, it's complicated."

Bonnie glanced at her watch and set her glass down. "I should get going. Thank you for the wine, and for letting me celebrate with you."

Love got up and walked her to the door. A strange sense of calm settled over her. But as she watched Bonnie walk to her car, her thoughts drifted back to Milk—to the warmth she felt whenever they were together, and the sharp ache of the distance that always seemed to linger between them.

"Take care!" Love called as Bonnie got into her car.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, wondering how things might have been different if they hadn't kept holding back. If she hadn't held back.

But then Sophie's voice called from her room, breaking the quiet. Love closed the door, shrugging off the thoughts. She could move on.

She had to.

Chapter Text

Milk couldn't stop pacing.

How could she let this happen?

Her parents were still seated in her living room, judgment still lingering in their expressions.

Milk couldn't hold back any longer.

"Do you realize what you've done?" she blurted out, brimming with anger. She stopped pacing, her gaze trained on them.

Her parents exchanged glances, and then, as though they'd rehearsed it, turned to face her.

"You okay, Milk?" her mother asked.

Milk was livid now. "Do you have any idea how many people you've driven away with your constant judgment?"

Her mother raised a brow, sitting stiffly on the couch. "Milk, don't be dramatic. We were only giving our perspective."

"Your perspective?" Milk repeated, her hands clenched. "Your 'perspective' just drove away the best thing that's happened to me in a long time!"

Her mom straightened, adjusting the floral blouse she wore. "You're speaking irrationally. We're here to help you, Milk. We're trying to keep you on the right path."

Milk let out a short, humorless laugh. "The right path? Do you think this is the right path? You think pushing me into a life I didn't choose, into becoming someone so closed-off I can't let anyone in, was the right path?"

Her mother folded her arms, her gaze cool. "You're being rude. After all we've done for you, the sacrifices we've made—"

"Sacrifices?" Milk's voice rose, her control slipping. "You pushed me into medical school because it suited your image. You demanded perfection because anything less wasn't acceptable in your world. And now, I'm...I'm unable to keep anyone close because of what you've turned me into."

Her dad pressed his lips together, visibly uncomfortable. "We wanted the best for you—a respectable career, stability, and success. Is that so wrong?"

Milk's hands shook, but she held her ground. "The best for me? Or the best for you? You wanted a surgeon in the family, someone to brag about, someone who wouldn't embarrass you. But did you ever stop to think about what I wanted?"

Her mother tilted her head, her expression a mixture of irritation and disbelief. "Milk, you're talking nonsense. We're here because we care about you, not because we need some trophy daughter."

Milk crossed her arms, her shoulders tense. "You could have fooled me."

There was a long, heavy silence. Her dad glanced around, then back at Milk, as if unsure of how to handle her outburst. Finally, he leaned forward, his gaze sharp.

"You've become very disrespectful. This tone, this attitude, it's...disappointing. We didn't raise you to be ungrateful."

Milk's jaw tightened. "Ungrateful? I've done everything you've ever asked of me. I gave up my dreams and my relationships just to meet your impossible standards. And you have the nerve to call me ungrateful?"

Her mother sighed, glancing at the tea set on the table as if it held some deep wisdom. "You're not seeing things clearly. You're emotional, and you're letting that cloud your judgment."

"Cloud my judgment!" Milk scoffed. "You two have the worst possible judgment."

Her parents frowned. Mom shook her head from side to side, sucking her teeth in derision. Milk wasn't deterred. This scene was way too familiar. They'd act hurt and insulted, and she'd cower and apologize.

Not today.

"You should take that back," her dad said.

Milk scoffed again and pressed her hand to her forehead. "You're kidding, right?"

"Take that back, Milk," Mom said.

Milk shook her head. She wouldn't do this again. She wouldn't back down just because she had feelings. She wouldn't let herself bend to their will every damn time.

"No."

Her mother blinked, adjusting her gaze in horror. "Milk?"

"What, Mom?" Milk said. "I love you two, but at every turn, you make it clear that you love the idea of me being some medical robot than you love your own daughter."

"And this Dove actually loves you, I suppose?" her dad scoffed.

"Love, Dad," Milk retorted. "Her name is Love Pattranite. Dr. Love Pattranite, she's a brilliant pediatric surgeon and I love her."

Milk felt peace wash over her as the words left her lips. She loved Love. She'd say it over and over again. She loved Love.

"I love her," Milk said. A smile creeped up her face, but didn't last long.

"Dove, Love...whatever," her mother began. "She was—"

"At least say her name right," Milk snapped.

"It doesn't matter. She was just a distraction, Milk. You don't need to ruin a stable life over someone temporary."

Milk felt a surge of anger rise again, hotter than before. "Love isn't a distraction. Did either one of you hear anything I just said?"

"We did," her dad said. "And we're telling you—"

"No, I'm telling you," Milk said. "Love cares about me. Not about what I do for a living or how many accolades I earn. She sees me."

Her dad straightened, looking offended. "And we don't see you? Is that what you think?"

Milk stood still, trying in vain to steady her breathing. It just wouldn't work. No matter how hard she tried to get her parents to see how she felt, they seemed determined to ignore her wishes.

"Yes," Milk said. Her parents looked horrified, but Milk didn't back down. "That's exactly what I think. You see a version of me that fits into your world, but you don't know me. Not who I am, not what I want."

Her mother's gaze turned cold, a look Milk had seen many times before. "We know what's best for you, Milk. We always have. And if you'd just listen, you'll realize we're right."

Milk took a step back, her hands dropping to her sides.

"No. You don't get to make my decisions for me anymore. I'm done listening to what you think is best. You've controlled my life long enough."

Her dad's mouth dropped open in shock. "You're being unreasonable. We're only here because we care."

Milk threw her hands up. "Did you two even stop to think why I would ignore your calls and change my last name?"

"Isn't it obvious?" her dad asked. "You're obsessed with trying to do things yourself, even to your own detriment."

"We're just surprised you're not done with that phase yet," her mother added.

"Phase?" Milk repeated, her jaw dropping.

"Yes," her mother said. "We care about you, and that's why we've always tried to help."

Milk shook her head. This was going nowhere. "Prove it," she said.

"Pardon?" her mom asked.

"Prove that you care," Milk said. "Leave."

Her mother looked at her, frowning. "You're asking us to leave? After we came all this way to see you?"

Milk nodded, her face set. "Yes."

Her dad shook his head and stood up slowly, his look of disapproval clear. "This attitude...this lack of respect for your parents...it's disappointing. We didn't raise you to be so reckless."

Milk held her ground, her heart pounding. "Maybe I'm reckless. Maybe I need to be, just to finally get out of your shadow."

Her mother rose, adjusting her blazer, her expression tense. "Fine. We'll leave. But don't come crying to us when this little rebellion of yours falls apart."

Milk didn't respond, watching as they gathered their things with precise, practiced movements.

At the door, her mother paused and looked back at Milk with something between anger and disappointment. "I hope you realize how ungrateful you're being. After everything we've done for you."

Milk met her gaze, her expression unwavering. "Maybe I am ungrateful. But at least I'll be free."

Her mother shook her head and turned away, and without another word, they left, the door clicking shut behind them.

As soon as they were gone, Milk's shoulders slumped. She'd said what she needed to, but now that the words had left her, she felt like she'd thrown them into a void.

She sank onto the couch, her hands shaking slightly.

Today wasn't supposed to end like this. This was supposed to be the day she and Love took their romance to a whole new level. This was supposed to be their day.

Now everything had shattered before it could even begin. Her parents' interference had cost her love.

Her gaze fell to the empty teacups on the table, the steam long gone, leaving only the faint scent behind. She felt drained, as though every ounce of energy had been wrung out of her.

Milk walked toward her bedroom, the house silent around her and her phone heavy in her hand. She unlocked the screen, Love's number sitting at the top. The urge to call pulsed through her, but she hesitated, her thumb hovering just above the screen.

She wanted to reach out and hear Love's voice, to apologize and explain. But the words wouldn't form even in her head.

The phone slipped from her grip, landing on the floor with a dull thud. She stared down at it, unable to make herself pick it up. Love was better off without her, wasn't she? Away from this mess, from the constant push and pull that Milk's life had become. What right did she have to pull Love back in?

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the empty room, the anger sparking again. Her parents had always done this—reached into her life, pulled the strings, and made her believe she was somehow incomplete without their guidance. And now, even after she'd told them to leave, their voices lingered, their judgments still crowding her thoughts.

Milk clenched her fists, then released them, feeling the exhaustion set in. How many relationships had they ruined? How many times had she kept people at a distance, thinking it was for the best?

She wanted Love, she knew that now, but she had no idea where to begin. Maybe, in the end, she was just like her parents—cold, methodical, unwilling to let anyone close enough to see her. The thought left her empty.

She didn't move for a long time, the house darkening around her as evening settled in. She had no energy to turn on the lights or do anything that might interrupt the silence. She sat alone, watching the shadows stretch across her walls, the house as still as she was.

Finally, she rose and walked to the kitchen, thinking she should eat something. She opened the fridge, her eyes falling on leftover vegetables, eggs, everything she'd need to cook something half-decent.

She stared at them for a few seconds, considering it, but her shoulders sagged at the thought of going through each step. She didn't have it in her. Not tonight.

She closed the fridge, reached for the cereal box in the cabinet, and then poured some into a bowl. She added milk, the motion automatic, and walked over to the dining table. She set the bowl down and sat, her fingers tapping against the cool wood of the tabletop.

The quiet was heavier here, stretching between her and the bowl in front of her, filling the space she'd once thought she could share with Love.

She took a spoonful of cereal, staring into the bowl as if it held the answer to all her problems. And then, as she chewed, the realization settled in.

She'd done this.

She'd kept Love at arm's length, afraid to let her in completely. Afraid that if she did, she might have to change. She'd fallen into the same careful, rigid patterns her parents had drilled into her, believing that control meant safety. And now, that same control was slipping through her fingers, leaving her with nothing but an empty house and a fading chance at the happiness she'd found with Love.

She lowered the spoon, her appetite gone. If she didn't change—if she didn't let herself risk it, let herself truly care—she would lose Love for good. The thought sat heavily with her. The only sound in the room was her own shallow breathing as she looked down at her untouched bowl.

Chapter Text

Love’s morning started in a rush. She’d barely finished breakfast with Sophie when her phone buzzed on the counter, the screen flashing an emergency alert from the hospital.

She swallowed her last sip of coffee and dialed Bonnie’s number, arranging for Sophie’s school drop-off with barely a pause.

At the hospital, the pace only picked up. She scrubbed in quickly, her mind locked into the steady rhythm of work. The emergency was messy, a multi-trauma case from a bad highway collision, and the OR was filled with controlled chaos.

The only pause in her entire day came when she first laid eyes on Milk. Even with the white coat obscuring her body, Milk’s figure was undeniable. Love stood still in the hallway, staring at Milk with her lips pressed together.

“Good morning,” she said, betraying the warmth that coursed through her body.

“Love, I—” Milk began.

Love raised her hand, cutting her off. She didn’t want to hear it. Not before a delicate procedure.

“Please, Milk,” Love said. “We’ve got a job to do.”

Milk nodded, her eyes not leaving Love for a second. She looked sorry. Love could see that in the slight droop of her shoulders when she exhaled. She could see the hurt—or was it pain?—shining in Milk’s eyes.

“Right. Work.” Milk nodded and took a step back.

Love never thought she’d see Milk frown at the mention of work.

She didn’t think she’d feel this burning desire to sink into Milk’s arms and listen to everything she had to say. She didn’t think she’d stare at her and hope there was some explanation that made all of this make sense.

Milk turned and headed for the OR. A couple of breaths later, Love joined in. She worked alongside the team, but avoided eye contact with Milk. With each glance she stole, she quickly shifted away, her focus only on the task in front of her.

There was no room for warmth or anything that might distract her. Not here. Not now. And maybe…not anymore.

As soon as the patient was stabilized and she stepped out of the OR, Love’s breathing was shallow and her fingers were still tense from the procedure. She pressed a hand against the wall, closing her eyes and allowing herself a second to breathe.

“You good?”

Love’s eyelids flew open. Emi was staring at her with concern etched all over her face. Love was too lazy to force a smile.

“I’m fine, Emi,” she said.

Emi raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure something is wrong.”

Love found her smile now, weak as it was. She allowed her gaze to drift to Emi’s fingers. Sure enough, a gold band sat on the ring finger of her left hand.

“I never got to congratulate you,” Love said, pointing to Emi’s finger.

Emi grinned as she raised her finger and caressed the ring. “I still haven’t gotten used to this, you know.”

“I know, right?” Love said. “Bonnie didn’t seem used to it, either. She blushed as much as you are right now.”

Emi pressed her hands against her cheeks.

“You don’t seem surprised that I know about Bonnie,” Love said.

Emi shrugged. “I mean, I always knew it was only a matter of time before you found out. Besides, it wasn’t exactly a secret. You just didn’t ask.”

“Right,” Love said. “Congratulations all the same.”

“Thank you,” Emi said. “What’s going on between you and—” Love’s phone rang, interrupting Emi’s question.

The caller ID was one she had saved. It was Sophie’s school. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Sophie should’ve just been dropped off at school.

“I’m sorry,” Love said. “I’ve got to take this.”

Love picked up the call, her pulse racing. “Hello?”

“Dr. Pattranite?” a female voice said.

“This is Love Pattranite speaking,” she said.

“There’s been an accident involving Sophie…” The rest of the words were a blur. “A truck…hit the car from the rear…the driver was mostly unharmed…Sophie was in the backseat…”

The phone dropped from Love’s hands. She didn’t wait to hear more.

She bolted down the hallway, ignoring the nurses’ startled glances. Her heart pounded faster with each step, her thoughts a frantic blur. She didn’t even hear Emi pick up her phone and run behind her.

When she reached the ambulance bay, she spotted the familiar vehicle pulling up. The doors opened and Sophie lay on the stretcher, still and small, her face pale, with a gash above her eyebrow.

“Oh God,” Love whispered, reaching out instinctively, but one of the paramedics gently pulled her back. “Sophie…my baby.”

“Dr. Pattranite, we need to get her inside right away,” one of the doctors said.

“I’ll help you get her—”

“Step out of the way, Dr. Pattranite,” a medic said.

“I can help. I just…I just need to get in there and take a good look at her.”

Love was out of breath. She forced herself to step back, her hands trembling as she followed them.

Sophie’s injuries looked severe—too severe. Her chest tightened as they hurried her daughter into the ER, her mind racing with every possible complication.

Namtan was there. She looked over Sophie the second she was placed on the bed. She took one glance at Love and nodded slowly.

Love wasn’t content with that. She walked over, ignoring everyone’s stares as she reached Namtan.

“Namtan, I’ll handle the procedure,” Love said. “She’s my daughter. No one can treat her like I would.”

“Which is exactly why you’re going to sit this one out,” Namtan said.

“That’s my baby lying there,” Love said. Teardrops slipped down her cheeks. “Please, Namtan. You know how much this means to me.”

“Which is just another reason you should listen to me, Love.”

Namtan shook her head firmly. “You know the rules. You can’t operate on her. Your hands aren’t even steady right now.”

“She’s my daughter. Please, just this once—”

“No exceptions.” Namtan’s tone softened slightly. “I’m assigning Milk to this case. She’s the best surgeon we have, and you know she’s capable.”

Love’s hands dropped to her sides, her heart sinking. She caught sight of Milk approaching.

“No,” Love said, almost to herself, but it was useless. Namtan was already moving away, directing other staff members to their stations.

The same person who’d broken her heart a day ago would now operate on her daughter. She knew how impersonal Milk could be. Would this be just another job for her?

Love stood there, tears dripping from her eyes. Her heart was breaking all over again.

“Love.” Milk was already standing before her. “I’m going to take care of her.”

Love’s jaw tightened, her pulse racing. She wanted to protest, to demand another option, anyone else, but there was no choice. Sophie needed help, and Milk was her best chance.

“Fine,” Love said, her voice clipped. “Please give it your all.”

Milk nodded. “I’ll do everything I can, Love.”

She reached over to touch Love’s shoulder, but Love flinched.

“Don’t,” Love whispered. “Just save my daughter. Please.”

Milk nodded and turned toward the operating room doors, disappearing inside.

Love’s hands shook as she stared after her, her mind filled with Sophie’s pale face. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain steady.

Then she spotted Bonnie, bruised but standing by the wall. Emi’s arms were wrapped around her and she was talking to her quietly, her face pale and drawn. Emi’s voice was calm, her hand brushing over Bonnie’s shoulder, soothing and steady.

Love stepped toward them. “Are you alright, Bonnie?”

Bonnie looked at her. “Yes. Just a few cuts, but…Sophie…”

“You should have your cuts looked at,” Love said.

“My cuts can wait,” Bonnie said.

“She insisted she wouldn’t let me touch them until she was certain that Sophie was going to be okay.”

“I was driving. If anything—”

“Sophie is going to be okay,” Love said, unable to say anything else. Tears filled her eyes again.

“We’re here if you need us,” Emi said.

Love swallowed, the words catching in her throat. She gave them a quick nod, then turned away, not trusting herself to speak.

“You should check out your cuts,” Love said. “You need to make sure they don’t get infected, and have someone check if you’re bleeding internally.”

Love walked away. She watched from across the prep room as Milk slipped on her gloves. Milk’s face was set. Love clenched her hands, her breathing shallow. She wanted to say something, but the words stuck in her throat, useless.

She was about to head for the viewing gallery when she spotted Namtan walking toward her.

“Namtan…” she said.

“Give it a rest, Love.” Namtan hugged her.

Love held on tight. She desperately needed it.

“Breathe, Love,” Namtan said, squeezing her tightly. “You’ve got to be strong.”

Love sniffled. “You’re leaving Sophie’s surgery to Milk? She can’t—”

Namtan leaned back, her eyes steady and unyielding. “Love, if you want the best chance for your daughter, you’ll let Milk do her job.”

Love’s mouth opened, ready to argue, but Namtan’s expression stopped her cold. The authority in Namtan’s eyes was different, colder than usual. Love had never seen her like this.

“If you interfere now, anything that happens will be on you. Is that what you want?”

Love stared at her, stunned, her heart pounding harder. “She’s my daughter, Namtan. I need to trust—”

“Then trust me,” Namtan interrupted. “You know Milk is the best. And for the record, Love, she cares about Sophie. Don’t let this…personal thing cloud what you know to be true.”

Love swallowed, her frustration clashing with the truth Namtan had thrown at her. She managed a quick nod, and Namtan didn’t say more before she turned back to the other staff.

Love took a shaky breath and moved toward the viewing gallery, a knot forming in her chest. When she arrived, she found Emi standing just inside, her gaze locked on the OR. Love joined her, her eyes fixed on the sterile, bright room below.

“Where’s Bonnie?”

“Getting her cuts checked,” Emi said.

“That’s good.”

Emi nodded. “Yeah.”

“Shouldn’t you be there with her?” Love asked.

“She asked that I be here with Sophie instead,” Emi said. “You know, Bonnie always said she wanted to have a daughter just like Sophie.” Love sniffled.

“I didn’t mean to—” Emi began.

“It’s fine,” Love whispered. “It’s fine.”

Sophie lay on the operating table, small and vulnerable under the harsh lights. The sight was almost unbearable, made worse by the fact that Milk was the one in charge—the same Milk who’d left her feeling so lost and unsure just yesterday.

But Sophie needed her.

Love swallowed, recalling Milk’s assurance earlier. The words were so unlike anything Milk would usually say. Normally, Milk avoided giving parents any false hope. It was a principle she stuck to, one they’d debated more than once.

But now she’d offered Love reassurance, something she’d never heard from her before. It was almost enough to give Love a sliver of calm.

Maybe Milk had changed. Maybe the person she’d seen behind those cold walls was real, not just a projection of what she’d wanted. But it didn’t matter now. All she wanted was for Sophie to be alright.

There was nothing she could do now but wait and watch, her mind replaying Milk’s promise over and over, hoping it would be enough.

Chapter Text

Milk stood in the OR, staring down at Sophie, the child’s face pale and vulnerable under the harsh lights.

She took a slow breath, forcing herself to focus on the tools laid out before her, on the movements she’d practiced a thousand times. But today, everything felt different. Each step felt as if she were moving through sand.

Her team was quiet, their eyes darting between her and the child on the table. She didn’t need to look at them to know they were tense, waiting for her to guide them through this.

The pressure was relentless, making her hands feel unsteady in a way they hadn’t been in years.

Milk’s mind kept drifting, each thought tangling with the next. She couldn’t stop thinking about Love—about her face, her eyes, the fear, and the accusation that had lingered in her gaze earlier.

“Clamp,” she ordered.

A nurse handed her the tool, but there was something hesitant in the motion, a hesitation that only tightened the knot in her chest. She was used to being in control and knowing exactly what came next. But now every move felt unfamiliar, as if she were losing her footing more and more with each second that passed.

Milk’s hands moved with precision as she made the initial incision, exposing Sophie’s chest cavity. Her gaze was sharp and unyielding as she focused on the delicate structures beneath the skin. The sight of Sophie’s small form, vulnerable and fragile, forced her to steady her breathing and lock every part of her mind onto the job before her. This wasn’t just about skill now—it was about speed, accuracy, and unbreakable focus.

“Retractor,” she said, her voice low and controlled.

The nurse placed it into her hand and Milk secured it in place, opening the area around Sophie’s heart. Her heartbeat drummed against her ribs, but she pushed it aside, letting muscle memory take over.

She assessed the bleeding, noting the accumulation of fluid pressing against the heart and compressing it into an unnatural shape. This was the cause of Sophie’s rapid decline.

“Drain,” Milk ordered, reaching out as she watched the steady buildup of blood around the heart. Her nurse passed the tool and Milk worked swiftly, inserting it to relieve the pressure surrounding the pericardial sac.

Blood began to flow through the drain and Sophie’s heart visibly relaxed, resuming its normal shape. Relief whispered at the edges of her mind, but she kept her expression neutral, every movement of her hands deliberate, each step measured.

“Good,” she said, almost to herself. “Suction here. Watch the levels.”

Her nurse nodded, focusing on the suctioning as Giselle worked to stabilize Sophie’s heart function. She looked up, catching a brief glimpse of Love in the viewing room, her face pale and her gaze locked onto the scene below.

Love’s hand was pressed against the glass, her expression a mix of fear and accusation that cut right into Milk’s focus. She forced herself to look back at Sophie, her mind hammering out the need to focus, to fix this, no matter the weight pressing against her chest.

“Keep the drain steady,” Milk instructed, glancing at the monitor as Sophie’s heartbeat leveled into a steadier rhythm.

Her shoulders eased, the tense knot there loosening, if only slightly. She checked the heart, looking for signs of further complications, each small detail taking shape in her mind like pieces of a puzzle.

“Clamp,” she said, stretching her hand out. The nurse handed her the tool, and Milk worked to secure one of the small, torn blood vessels near the heart, closing it off with careful precision.

Everything was running smoothly—until it wasn’t.

The heart monitor blared, the rhythm erratic, the line jumping in uneven peaks and valleys. Milk’s eyes snapped to Sophie’s heart, noting a sudden pooling of blood, faster than before. Something had reopened, an unseen tear letting blood flood into the cavity again, compressing the heart.

“Suction, now!” she ordered, the calm in her voice cracking, urgency sharpening her tone. The nurse moved instantly, but the blood was building too quickly, covering every visible structure, making it impossible to identify the source. She clenched her jaw, pushing away the surge of dread rising in her chest. The blood wouldn’t stop, no matter how fast they suctioned.

“Another clamp,” she said, her hand steady as she took the new tool.

She worked quickly, her gaze darting between the pool of blood and the drain. Every second felt like it stretched into eternity, the edges of her focus blurring as she worked, her hands moving in practiced rhythm.

“More suction. Keep it clear. Hang some more blood.” Her assistant’s movements mirrored her pace, their hands synchronized, but the bleeding didn’t slow. She knew she had only minutes to get it under control, or they’d lose Sophie.

Milk adjusted her grip, pressing the clamp down as her mind raced to analyze what she couldn’t see, working through every possibility. Her gaze flicked to the monitor again—heart rate unstable, dropping.

“More suction,” she repeated, urgency biting into each word.

Another assistant nurse shifted, her hand hovering over the defibrillator, her face tight with worry.

“Not yet,” Milk said sharply. “Focus on the suction. I can stabilize it.”

She applied pressure to the torn vessel, her hands firm but precise. The bleeding slowed, but not enough. Sophie’s heart continued to beat irregularly, the sound uneven and strained.

Milk glanced up, catching Love’s face through the glass again.

Horror was etched into every line of her expression. She forced herself to look back at Sophie and block out everything but the child in front of her.

“Come on,” she whispered, her hands steadying as she worked, every ounce of her concentration narrowing to this single moment, this single chance.

Then the sound came—the long, flatline tone that filled the room. Milk’s heart lurched, her mind freezing as she looked at the monitor and the thin, unwavering line stretched across the screen.

Then the sound came—the long, flatline tone that filled the room.

Milk’s heart lurched, her mind freezing as she looked at the monitor and the thin, unwavering line stretched across the screen.

Milk’s breath raced as she looked at Sophie, at the stillness of her small frame. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. Her hands moved automatically, reaching for the defibrillator.

“Clear!” she ordered, despite the tremor in her gut. She pressed the paddles against Sophie’s chest, willing the machine to work, for something to change. But nothing did. The monitor stayed steady and unyielding, taunting her with silence.

Her team’s faces reflected her own doubt back at her. She saw the glances they exchanged, the way their expressions softened as if they were already accepting the outcome.

“Again,” she said, her voice sharp and her gaze fierce.

An intern shifted, his gaze flicking to the clock on the wall. “Dr. Pansa…”

“I said again.” Her tone left no room for argument.

They followed, preparing for another shock, their movements slower now.

Through the glass window of the OR, Milk caught sight of Love. She was standing there, her hands pressed against the glass, her face a mask of anguish and anger.

“You promised, Milk. You promised!” She heard Love scream.

Emi pulled her away from the glass. Milk shut her eyes for a second. When she opened them, the flatline tone and Love’s voice were still pretty audible.

“Do you even know what it means to love someone?” Love’s voice carried through the window, muffled but unmistakable, piercing right through the thin layer of calm Milk was trying to maintain.

Milk’s jaw tightened. She glanced at the monitor, then back at Sophie. Her hands felt heavier, her mind barely able to process the words Love had thrown at her.

“You’re too cold, too rigid. You don’t care about anyone!” Love’s voice was louder now.

Milk glanced back down at Sophie, her fingers trembling slightly as she forced them to move, to keep going, to ignore the voice that wouldn’t let her breathe.

“Love, stop.” Emi’s voice rang out from somewhere beyond the glass, calm but stern. But Love’s face didn’t soften.

Milk closed her eyes for a brief second, forcing herself to block out everything, to ignore the stinging words and searing looks, and to focus only on the child before her. This was her job. This was why she was here —to help, to save lives, to do what no one else could.

“Again,” she said, her voice cracking slightly The team hesitated, but they moved to prepare the machine once more. Milk gripped the defibrillator, her hands steady, her gaze locked on Sophie.

Chapter Text

Love’s face was pressed against the glass of the OR observation window, her eyes locked on Sophie’s small, motionless body on the table.

The monitors still beeped, drowning out every rational thought. She was helpless, a bystander, forced to watch as her daughter’s life slipped away. Her fists clenched and her heart thudded painfully against her ribs.

Every instinct screamed at her to get in there, to do something, anything to save her child. But she was stuck out here in the viewing room, forced to rely on Milk. Milk, who couldn’t understand what this meant. Who didn’t know what it was to love, to lose, to sacrifice. The words boiled up, uncontrollable, unstoppable.

“Milk!” she shouted, her hands hitting the glass as if that would somehow get through to her. “You’re letting her die!”

The people around her shifted, some glancing her way and murmuring, but she ignored them. Her broken voice echoed through the hallway. “Do you even care?”

Emi reached out, trying to speak, but Love shook her off. She wasn’t in the mood for calming words, not when Sophie lay there, still and silent. And not with Milk standing there, hands steady, face focused, so in control, as if this were any other surgery.

“Do you know what it means to lose someone you love?” Love’s voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet. “Do you just let them slip away, too?”

She watched as Milk’s shoulders tensed, a slight falter in her movements. Each second that passed with her daughter lying there motionless infuriated Love. Each steady move of Milk’s hands on Sophie’s small, fragile body twisted the pain deeper inside her.

“Love, please, it’s best if you step away,” Emi said.

Love ignored her, her gaze burning into Milk through the glass. She wanted her to understand, to feel the weight of this, to know the agony of loving someone so completely that losing them felt like losing everything.

“Do you hear me, Milk?” Her voice was hoarse, each word scraping her throat. “This isn’t just a patient. This is my daughter. This is my everything. You wouldn’t know what that means, would you? Because you’ve never let yourself care. Not about anyone. Not even about me.”

Love’s vision blurred, but she forced herself to keep her eyes on the scene inside the OR. She couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop shouting. There was nothing left but this, this desperate cry for someone—anyone—to understand her pain.

Chapter Text

Charge to fifty,” Milk said, forcing her voice to stay even.

The nurse nodded as she positioned the paddles, her movements sharp and efficient. Milk adjusted her stance, keeping her eyes on the heart monitor. It was weak and erratic. Another tech checked the readings, and her face was pale.

“Ready,” the nurse said.

“Clear.” Milk pressed the paddles to Sophie’s small chest, and the shock jolted through her tiny body, lifting her slightly off the table. They watched the monitor, waiting for a response.

A faint blip appeared, small but there.

“We’re not losing her,” Milk muttered, her hands gripping the paddles. “Charge again. This time to seventy-five.”

The nurse set the charge, her eyes flicking between her and the monitor. She handed her the paddles, the desperate energy palpable between them.

“Clear.”

The second shock hit, and Sophie’s body arched. Milk’s gaze snapped to the monitor, watching as the line steadied, the small pulses growing stronger. A steady beat appeared, faint but holding.

“Heart rate stabilizing,” the tech reported, her voice calm, but Milk could see the relief in her face.

She exhaled, leaning in to check the incision, her fingers steady as she adjusted the clamp, easing the pressure around the vessel. Sophie’s heart beat stronger, each pulse echoing in the room, a steady rhythm that had been painfully absent before.

“Good. Let’s keep the drain steady,” she said, her focus locked on Sophie. She glanced at the nurse. “Prep another suture here. We’re going to close up soon.”

The nurse moved quickly as Milk worked, her hands precise and her mind clear. The bleeding was under control, each step leading them closer to the end. She adjusted her grip, each motion fueled by the relief that surged through her.

“Almost there,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. She tightened the last suture, sealing the incision and securing Sophie’s heart. The monitor held, each steady blip a promise she hadn’t let herself believe until now.

Milk took a long breath, but the work wasn’t done. Her hands moved, finishing the final closures with exacting care. The steady hum of the monitor continued, each heartbeat bringing a wash of relief over the team.

She didn’t let herself look up at the gallery. She didn’t want to see the worry she knew was etched into Love’s face.

“Watch her vitals. Keep the suction ready,” Milk said as calmly as possible. “Sutures in place. Confirm stabilization.”

The tech nodded, adjusting the machine as the readings settled. A steady, strong line now graced the screen. Sophie’s pulse was weak but regular, each blip on the monitor echoing around the room.

The nurse checked the final blood levels, giving her a nod that was just short of a grin. Milk returned a small nod, but she allowed herself a moment to take it in. Sophie was holding on.

“Ok, I’m happy. I’m just going to redo this repair then close,” she said, keeping the focus on the last steps. Her team moved quickly, ready to finish what they’d begun.

Milk’s hands moved through the final sutures, each stitch careful, her gaze intent. She could still hear Love’s voice echoing in her mind, accusing and sharp, the words pressing against her, cutting through her earlier resolve. But as she looked at Sophie, her mind cleared. She’d done what she had to. She’d stayed with Sophie through each complication, and she hadn’t wavered.

The nurse leaned in, confirming the last suture was set. Milk nodded, finally allowing herself to breathe fully.

“She’s stable,” she said, her voice almost just a whisper.

Milk carefully placed the final suture, ensuring each stitch was secure. Her hands moved with a rhythm she barely thought about anymore, though every part of her still felt tense. She cut the last thread, her gaze lingering on Sophie’s chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. The monitor beeped, soft and even. Sophie was stable.

“Vitals?” Milk asked.

“Normalizing,” the tech confirmed with a smile.

Milk looked down at Sophie, studying the pale face that had held everyone’s attention. Without thinking, she leaned in and gently pressed a quick, almost instinctive kiss to Sophie’s forehead. The gesture felt unfamiliar yet natural, and it surprised her, a warmth spreading through her chest as she straightened.

When she turned around, her eyes met Love’s through the glass in the viewing room. Love’s expression was a mix of disbelief and relief. Her gaze softened, but there was a distance there, a guarded look that hadn’t been there before. It held everything she’d shouted earlier.

Milk swallowed, a pang of something she couldn’t name rising within her. She handed off her tools, pulled off her gloves, and left the OR without another glance. She couldn’t stay, not with Love watching, not with every word she’d said still echoing in her mind.

The prep area sat just outside the OR, a place she usually walked through without a thought. Today, it felt like a lifeline. She slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. Her hands were still shaking as she leaned against the counter and pressed her palms flat against it.

For the first time, she let herself feel. She thought of Sophie, of the moments she’d been on the edge of losing her, of how her heart had clenched each time Sophie’s vitals had faltered.

And she thought of Love, her words laced with pain and accusation, and Milk finally understood. Love had wanted her to understand this all along—this warmth, this love, the relief when someone you cared about made it through.

Milk closed her eyes, thinking of all the other families, of the parents she’d kept at arm’s length, the ones who’d looked at her with questions in their eyes, desperate for reassurance she never gave. She’d been cold, detached, rigid—just like her parents had taught her to be. Just like her parents had been with her.

The realization hit her hard. She reached for the ties of her surgical gown, pulling it off in one swift motion. She peeled away her cap and her mask, letting them drop onto the tray.

She took a long breath, headed to the sink, and turned on the cold water, splashing it over her face, letting it ground her. Sophie had survived. For that, she was grateful. But now, with the OR behind her and everything laid bare, she wondered if she’d lost Love. Her pulse quickened at the thought, her mind racing over every mistake, every time she’d pushed Love away. She braced herself against the sink, staring into the drain.

The door opened and Namtan walked in, her gaze softened by the hint of relief in her eyes. She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Milk in a brief but firm hug.

“Good work,” she said, pulling back just enough to study Milk’s face.

“Sophie is stable. You saved her.”

Milk nodded. “Thank you.”

Namtan’s hand rested on her shoulder. “Your parents came by earlier.”

Milk’s muscles tensed and she took a step back. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I know,” Namtan replied. “They spoke to me. I explained how things were, and they agreed to wait until you were ready. They respect your space, for now.”

Milk looked away, a surge of relief softening her stance. “You talked to them?”

“Yes,” Namtan said. “They understand more than you might think. But it’s your call if you want to see them.”

Milk nodded, glancing back at Namtan. “Thank you for that.” The words barely scratched the surface, but she knew Namtan understood. Namtan’s eyes held hers for a moment, and then she turned toward the door. Milk watched her leave, a quiet thought slipping out before she could stop it.

“Namtan, do you think Love can still love me?”

Namtan stopped, turning back with a raised brow. “Pardon?”

Milk gave a short, bitter laugh. “Drop the act. You know we’ve been seeing each other.”

A faint smile crossed Namtan’s face. “I’d hoped.” She let the words hang between them, a subtle warmth softening her usual formality. “Love’s a driven woman. And emotional. If she loves you, Milk, it will take more than this to change that.”

Milk’s shoulders relaxed, her gaze settling on Namtan with gratitude she didn’t try to hide. “Thank you. For everything.”

Namtan gave a small nod, her face softening just enough to show her approval, then left without another word.

Chapter Text

Love sat beside Sophie, watching the steady rhythm of the monitors as her daughter’s small chest rose and fell.

Her hand rested over Sophie’s, her thumb gently tracing small circles on her daughter’s skin. Sophie’s face was pale and her body looked so fragile against the white hospital sheets, but the steady beep of the monitor reassured Love. Sophie was here. She was alive. The relief hadn’t yet settled, and tears slipped down Love’s cheeks, one after another, quiet and steady.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she whispered. “You’ve been so brave. You’re the strongest person I know.” Her voice cracked, but she kept talking, her words soft and full. “Mommy’s here, and you’re going to be just fine. Just fine.”

Love kept her gaze on Sophie’s face, letting every little feature fill her mind—the small eyelashes, the faint curve of her cheeks. She brushed a hand over Sophie’s forehead, tucking a stray lock of hair back.

“You scared me, you know that?” she murmured. “But you pulled through. You’re so, so strong.”

Time passed slowly, the quiet punctuated only by the steady beeps of the monitors. Love stayed close, feeling every heartbeat through the monitor, each one easing the knot in her chest a little more.

She thought of the long night, of everything she’d said and felt. She hadn’t wanted to lash out. She hadn’t meant to, not in the way it came out. But the thought of losing Sophie had made her desperate, furious with anyone who stood in the way, even Milk.

The door opened, and Love looked up to see Milk standing in the doorway. Milk’s face was pale and her shoulders a little stiff, like she hadn’t recovered from the hours in the OR. Love rose slowly, her hand still resting on Sophie’s, her gaze steady on Milk.

Milk walked in and closed the door softly behind her. She took a hesitant step forward, her eyes flicking to Sophie, then back to Love, searching for something in her expression.

Love opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. She swallowed, her mind a mess of things she didn’t know how to say.

“I…Milk, I…I don’t know where to start.”

Milk nodded, her gaze steady. “You don’t have to explain. I understand.”

“No,” Love said, shaking her head. “I do. I need to say it.” She took a breath, her hand squeezing Sophie’s. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I was terrified. And angry. I was…angry because I love her so much, and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Milk’s eyes softened, her hands dropping to her sides. “You were scared. I don’t blame you for that.”

Love let out a breath. “I didn’t mean it, Milk. I didn’t mean any of it.” She paused, her gaze shifting to the floor for a moment. “I was just… scared of losing her. Of losing everything.”

Milk took a step closer, her eyes on Love’s. “I know. And I…I’m sorry too.” She looked down at Sophie, then back at Love. “I’ve pushed you away, over and over. Then there’s the drama with my parents. I should’ve—”

“I understand.”

“I was trying to start a life away from them. I didn’t mean to keep that much away from you. I was just too scared that I’d never find love, so I clammed up.”

Love studied her, taking in the hint of vulnerability in Milk’s face, a softness she hadn’t seen before.

“You weren’t just scared of love, were you?” she asked quietly.

Milk nodded. “I didn’t think I deserved this. Any of it. I didn’t want to believe I could be close to anyone, even just as friends. I didn’t want to risk losing anybody and hurting them, or myself.”

Love watched her, a small, tentative warmth rising in her chest. “And now?”

Milk’s eyes lifted to hers, something unguarded in them now. “And now it matters more than I ever thought it could.”

Love’s breath caught, the words settling between them, and she took a small step closer.

“Milk, I love you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And it…it hurt when I thought I didn’t matter enough for you to share that part of your life with me.”

Milk swallowed, her gaze unwavering. “I love you too, Love. More than I ever thought I could.”

She took Love’s hand, her fingers hesitant but warm against Love’s. “I want to be here. For you. For Sophie.”

Love’s lips parted, her heart lifting at the words, something calming inside her for the first time in what felt like ages. She squeezed Milk’s hand.

“Then stay. Just…stay with us.”

Love’s heart raced as Milk leaned closer, her hand still holding hers, the warmth grounding them both. The world faded around them, leaving only the quiet hum of machines and Sophie’s steady breathing. Love’s gaze held hers, a soft, hesitant smile on her lips.

Milk nodded, her hand steady in Love’s. “I will. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Love looked down at Sophie, a soft smile spreading across her face.

“I love you, Milk,” Love whispered again, her words steady and clear.

“I love you, too, Love.”

Milk pulled her close, her hand coming up to cup her cheek as she leaned in, pressing her lips gently to hers.

The kiss was soft, slow, a quiet promise made in the silent hospital room. Love’s hand tightened around Milk’s, her lips warm and steady, and Love let herself fall into the moment, into the reality she’d almost lost.

When they pulled back, Milk’s hand lingered, her gaze still locked on Love’s, a small smile breaking through the seriousness in her face.

Love brushed a hand over Milk’s cheek. “Thank you. For saving her,” she murmured.

Milk nodded. “Thank you for being here.”

They stood there for a few moments, just holding each other and savoring the quiet. Love wrapped her arms around Milk’s waist, resting her head against her shoulder, and Milk closed her eyes.

The door creaked open, and they turned to see Emi standing there, grinning with raised eyebrows.

“Well, look at you two,” she said, crossing her arms. “I knew you had it in you, but seriously, get a room. Preferably not in the hospital.”

Milk rolled her eyes, a small laugh escaping. “Emi, you have the worst timing.”

Emi shrugged, chuckling. “That’s my specialty. Just thought I’d check in…didn’t know I’d be walking in on a rom-com.” She gave Love a wink. “You chose well, Love.”

Love laughed, leaning into Milk a bit more. “She grows on you, doesn’t she?”

Emi laughed. “Oh, absolutely. But seriously, it’s about time you two figured things out.”

The door opened and Sarah stepped inside, looking slightly amused as she glanced between them.

“Dr. Pattranite, there’s someone here asking to see you.”

Love frowned and glanced at Milk, then back at Sarah. “Me? I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

Milk straightened, her expression shifting. “I’ll come with you.”

Love gave a quick nod, squeezing Sophie’s hand one last time before stepping back. Together, they followed Sarah out of the room and down the quiet hallway.

When they turned the corner into the waiting area, Milk’s steps faltered. Her parents stood by the door, looking every bit as formal and guarded as they had during their last visit.

Her mother’s gaze softened when she saw her, but her dad looked at her with an unreadable expression.

Love glanced at Milk, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Your parents?”

Milk’s face hardened and her jaw clenched. “I don’t…I don’t think I want to do this right now.”

Her father, noticing her reaction, stepped forward, his expression gentle but determined. “Milk, please. Just a moment. We came to apologize. To both of you.”

Milk crossed her arms, her gaze wary. “You always have your way of knowing when things are going well for me, don’t you?”

“Milk—” her mom began.

“Why can’t you just allow me to be happy?” Milk said. “Did Namtan put you up to this?”

“No.”

“Then what?” Milk said. “I work here. You could’ve waited until…I don’t know. Never?”

“Namtan had nothing to do with this,” her dad said. “We just needed to see you and tell you we’re sorry.”

“Here?”

“Where else?” her mom asked. “We practically hounded you into medical school. It’s only fitting that I apologize in a hospital.”

Love reached over and touched Milk’s arm, her hand warm and steady. “Let’s hear them out.”

Milk looked down, exhaling slowly, and then she turned back to her parents, meeting their gazes with a mix of defiance and exhaustion. Her mother stepped closer.

“We’ve been…unfair, Milk. We’ve pushed you in ways we shouldn’t have. We’ve tried to control things that aren’t ours to control.”

Her father nodded, his eyes on Milk. “We were so focused on shaping you into what we thought you should be that we ignored who you actually are, and we hurt you because of it.”

Milk watched them, her arms still crossed, though her gaze had softened slightly. She didn’t respond, her expression guarded, waiting.

Her father took a breath, glancing at Love, then back to Milk. “I never wanted to put you through the same things my parents put me through. But somewhere along the way…I did.”

Milk’s shoulders relaxed just slightly, though her expression remained unreadable. She glanced at Love, who gave her a small nod.

“We hurt you,” her dad continued. “And we want to make it right. Not just for you, but for Love. We owe you both an apology.”

Milk’s gaze softened, though she kept her guard up. She glanced at Love, who watched her with quiet encouragement in her eyes. “Love,” Milk’s mother said, “we owe you an apology for making things difficult. We pushed Milk, and, by extension, pushed you away.”

Love glanced at Milk, then back at them, nodding. “Thank you for saying that.” She slipped her hand into Milk’s, her grip gentle but strong.

Her dad looked at her. “Can you forgive us?”

Milk hesitated, but then she nodded slowly, her lips parting in a faint smile. “Yes. But…I need you to understand that I’m done living up to your expectations. If you want to be in my life, then you’ll accept that.”

Her mom nodded, her face filled with relief. “We want you to be happy, Milk. That’s all we’ve ever wanted.”

Her dad stepped forward, reaching out, and Milk was pulled into a warm, genuine embrace that was long overdue. Her mother joined them, holding onto her tightly, her head resting on Milk’s shoulder. Love, watching with a soft expression, gave Milk’s hand a quick squeeze before stepping back, giving them the moment they needed.

After a long pause, Milk pulled back, her gaze meeting Love’s. Her parents turned to Love, their expressions open and unguarded.

“Thank you, Love,” her dad said. “For loving her. And for waiting.” Just then, the door opened and Namtan entered, looking pleasantly surprised. She gave a short nod, an approving smile on her face.

“Finally,” Namtan said.

“Come over here,” Milk said. “You’re family.”

Milk’s words echoed in Love’s head. This moment was everything she’d ever wanted. It felt like the start of something perfect.

Chapter Text

The house was quiet. Milk sat on Love’s couch, her arm around her, Love’s head resting gently on her shoulder.

It had been weeks since the accident, and Sophie had recovered fully. Things were finally looking up for Milk and Love.

The lights were dim, casting a soft glow over the room, and the distant sound of Sophie breathing softly in her bedroom was the only reminder that anyone else was there. Love’s home had a warmth and a lived-in feel that settled something inside Milk that had always felt restless.

Love let out a small sigh, her hand moving to rest on Milk’s. “You know, I didn’t think we’d ever get here.”

Milk squeezed her hand, keeping her gaze fixed on the quiet space around them. “I didn’t either.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “But I’m glad we are.”

Love looked up at her, a smile playing at the edges of her lips. “Really?”

“Yes.” Milk turned, meeting Love’s gaze. “I’ve spent so long keeping myself closed off, Love. But with you…it doesn’t feel so hard anymore.”

Love’s smile widened, a quiet look of relief crossing her face. She shifted closer and rested her head more firmly on Milk’s shoulder, her fingers lacing through hers.

“You know, you don’t have to say everything perfectly,” Love said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Milk let the words settle, nodding slightly. “It’s new to me,” she admitted. “Saying what I actually mean. Trusting…that it’s safe.”

Love’s fingers traced small circles over the back of Milk’s hand, her movements slow and soothing. “I know. And that’s enough for me. We’ll get there.”

They sat in silence, the kind of silence that felt right and full, not something that needed filling or fixing. Milk let her head rest against the couch, her body sinking into the comfort of the moment.

Love’s voice broke the quiet, soft and steady. “Do you ever think about what’s next? For us?”

Milk blinked, the question catching her off guard. She glanced down, then back at Love, considering. “I used to be afraid of that,” she said. “Of thinking too far ahead. But now…I think I’m ready to try.”

Love smiled again, a small laugh escaping her, and Milk found herself smiling, too. It felt easy and natural, like something she’d always been meant to do.

“I’d like that,” Love said. “Maybe we could actually plan…a trip together. Go somewhere, just us and Sophie.

Milk nodded, her gaze softening. “I’d like that.” She paused, glancing toward Sophie’s room. “She’s special. Like you.”

Love’s hand tightened on hers and she leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against Milk’s cheek. “And you’re special to us.”

The words settled deep inside, grounding her. Milk looked around, taking in the home that had somehow become a place she belonged.

Love shifted, meeting her gaze again, and Milk noticed the way her eyes softened. She reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from Love’s face, her fingers lingering just a moment longer than usual.

“Thank you,” Milk said, her voice barely above a whisper. “For waiting. For…seeing me, even when I didn’t let you in.”

Love’s eyes glistened as a quiet understanding passed between them. “I’d wait as long as it took for you. You’re worth it.”

Milk let out a small breath, the final wall inside her crumbling. She leaned forward, capturing Love’s lips in a slow, lingering kiss, a promise sealed in that quiet moment, in that room that now felt as much hers as it did Love’s. When they pulled apart, Love rested her head back on Milk’s shoulder and they settled into the silence once more, finally at
peace.

For the first time, Milk knew she was home.

Chapter Text

5 YEARS LATER

The sun spilled across the Phoenix Ridge coastline like melted gold, the soft hiss of waves brushing the shore below their deck. The beach house—a two-story, glass-and-wood dream nestled on a quiet stretch of sand—had become their sanctuary. Morning light filtered through gauzy curtains, catching on the framed photos that lined the mantle: Sophie’s first piano recital, a windswept selfie from their Grand Canyon trip, and one taken just a week ago, the three of them grinning with ice cream-stained faces and windswept hair.

Milk Pansa stood barefoot in the kitchen, coffee mug in hand, watching her family from the wide windows. Love was on the deck, kneeling in the sand with Sophie and their golden retriever, Clover, who was half-buried under a pile of shells and giggles. Milk smiled, the expression easy now—natural in a way it hadn’t been five years ago.

She had once thought she’d lost the capacity for this: joy, ease, the soft rhythm of daily life without fear or grief crouching in the corners. But Love had changed all that. Love, with her sunshine soul and stubborn insistence that Milk deserved more than just survival.

"You’re staring again," came Love’s voice behind her, teasing and warm.

Milk turned to see her wife stepping inside, windblown and glowing. She wrapped her arms around Love without hesitation, burying her face into the familiar curve of her neck.

"You say that like it’s a problem," Milk murmured.

Love chuckled. "Only if you don’t share the view."

Outside, Sophie was constructing a sand mermaid with Clover dutifully playing the part of sea monster. Her laughter floated in through the open doors, and Milk felt her heart squeeze in that way it always did when she looked at her daughter.

Yes, her daughter. Sophie had started calling her Mom without hesitation two years ago, after a particularly bad flu week when Milk had stayed up three nights straight with her. It had slipped out in a half-asleep whisper: "Thanks, Mom."

Milk had cried in the hallway after, clutching the doorframe like it was the only thing holding her up.

Now, it was routine. Normal. Beautifully mundane.

Love leaned back in her arms. "Did you hear? She wants to do the junior surf camp this summer."

"Does that mean we have to start waking up even earlier?" Milk groaned, feigning agony.

"You’re the one who wakes up at five on purpose, you weirdo," Love said, poking her in the ribs.

"Surgeon habit," Milk muttered.

It was true. She was still the head of cardiothoracic surgery at Phoenix Ridge Medical. The hours were intense, but manageable. Balanced. Love’s pediatric surgery schedule gave them pockets of time together they hadn’t dared dream about before. And the hospital—once a minefield of buried feelings and professional tension—was now a space they had made their own. Respectful. Supportive. Even kind.

Sophie burst through the door, cheeks flushed and curls wild. "Mom! Mama! Come look! Clover made a sand angel. Or... I made it, but Clover helped."

Milk reached out instinctively, brushing sand from her daughter’s elbow. "Let me guess, he helped by rolling in it?"

Sophie grinned. "Exactly!"

Love dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Go wash up. We’ve got brunch in twenty."

"With Auntie Namtan and Auntie Film? And Natalie?”

"And yes," Milk added, smiling. "Try not to talk Natalie into jumping in the tide pools again."

"No promises!" Sophie called over her shoulder as she bounded toward the outdoor shower, Clover happily trailing behind.

Love leaned against the counter and watched her go. "She’s grown so much."

Milk nodded, her chest full to bursting. "She really has."

And so had they, she thought. She could still remember the version of herself who arrived in Phoenix Ridge, cold and closed off, convinced love was a distraction she couldn’t afford. That woman wouldn’t recognize this version of her. The one who danced in the kitchen on Sunday mornings. The one who volunteered at school science fairs. The one who tucked in her daughter every night with a kiss and a whispered, I’m proud of you.

Milk reached for Love’s hand. "You know this still feels unreal sometimes, right?"

Love smiled, lacing their fingers together. "Then I guess we’re living a dream."

Brunch with Namtan and Film was everything they expected—laughter, chaos, and a whole lot of love. Natalie and Sophie had been best friends since they were six, and now, at eleven, they had their own language of inside jokes, beach games, and synchronized eye rolls.

Film set down a pitcher of fresh-squeezed juice, rolling her eyes as Natalie tried to sneak a second muffin. "Save some for the adults, Nat."

"Adults eat too slow," Natalie said, grinning.

Namtan, the ever-composed head of Phoenix Ridge Hospital, shook her head fondly. "You'd think running a hospital would be more exhausting than parenting, but I'm not so sure anymore."

"You could always borrow Clover," Love offered with a wink. "He's an excellent babysitter-slash-instigator."

After brunch, they took a walk down the beach with Bonnie and Emi, who had driven in just for the morning. Bonnie brought out kites, much to the delight of the girls, and Emi shared stories from a complicated neonatal case she’d just wrapped up.

The sun was high and bright when they all finally parted ways, full of hugs and promises for a movie night soon.

Later, as the house settled into a rare hush, Milk and Love curled up on the couch, Sophie sprawled between them with a book in hand. Clover lay across all their feet, snoring.

"We should go to that cabin in Sedona next month," Love murmured, fingers brushing circles into Milk’s palm.

"Let’s do it," Milk said immediately. "I’ll block the OR time."

Love raised an eyebrow. "You’ll give up a whole week of surgeries for vacation?"

Milk grinned. "Don’t act so shocked. I like the life we built. I want to actually live in it."

Love’s expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss her—slow and sweet. Sophie groaned dramatically.

"Ew! Moms kissing alert!"

Milk pulled her daughter in for a noisy kiss on the cheek. "Someday you’ll think it’s romantic."

"Not anytime soon!" Sophie giggled, wriggling free.

Outside, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting the room in amber light. Love rested her head on Milk’s shoulder, and Sophie settled back into the couch, her book open again.

And Milk? She sat still for a long moment, her arms around her family, her heart full.

This wasn’t just a happy ending. It was a beginning. The beginning of every beautiful, ordinary, perfect day to come.

She had been wrong all those years ago. Love wasn’t a distraction.

It was everything.