Lily’s scrubs clung to her like second skin, soaked in sweat and adrenaline. Her patient—a sixteen-year-old boy with a ruptured appendix—had just come out of surgery, alive but barely stable.

She’d saved him.

But she was shaking.

“Vitals are holding,” her assistant said, handing over the chart.

Lily nodded, lips pressed tight. “Good. Keep him monitored every fifteen. I want bloodwork in an hour.”

As she turned down the corridor, her mind still spinning from last night’s near-blowup with Leo, she almost collided with Kella.

“Dr. Cruz,” Kella said sweetly, faux concern painted on her lips. “You look… exhausted. Trouble at home?”

Lily arched a brow. “I don’t make it...