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Addie 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.”
Giselle stood a few feet away, observing the interaction. Every bit of it felt unnecessary.
Once the family was reassured—or at least when Addie felt like they were—she walked ahead of Giselle into the prep area. Giselle waited for a few more breaths before joining Addie in the locker room.
Sure enough, Addie was standing by the lockers, pulling her hair into a neat bun.
Addie looked over as soon as she entered, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Giselle’s stomach did something unfamiliar. It didn’t help when Addie pushed her lips into a smile.
“Hey,” Addie said.
“Hey,” Giselle 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.
Giselle didn’t stop until she was at the locker near the far end with a nameplate that readDr. Carlislein 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, Giselle stole a few glances at Addie 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.
Giselle stepped up to the table, reviewing the girl’s vitals on the screen. Addie joined her, standing across the table, her eyes already on the patient. Giselle cleared her throat, trying to push aside whatever thoughts had been distracting her.
“Everything looks stable,” Giselle said,her tone all business now. “We should be able to proceed without any complications.”
Addie nodded. “It’s a tricky procedure, but I think we’ve got it under control.”
Giselle appreciated that about Addie, 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,” Addie said, her eyes focused on the girl’s chest.
Now and then, Addie looked up at her, and each time, Giselle felt a subtle pull in her gaze.
“Forceps,” Giselle said, her hand outstretched. The nurse handed it over immediately.
Addie 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. Giselle was aware of every movement Addie made, every slight adjustment. It wascomforting, even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud.
“BP’s holding steady,” the anesthesiologist said from the head of the table.
Giselle 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, Giselle stepped back, letting the others finish the procedure. She caught a glimpse of Addie, 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 Addie—it didn’t matter. Not here. Not now.
Once the surgery was complete, they leftthe OR. As they stepped into the hallway, Giselle overheard Addie talking to the family again. She stood a little off to the side, watching as Addie explained the procedure in simple terms, breaking down the medical jargon so the parents could understand.
“The surgery went well,” Addie 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. Wolfe,” the father said.
Addie smiled, offering them a gentle nod. “We’re happy with the results. She’s strong.”
Giselle stayed where she was, watching the scene unfold. She begrudgingly admired how effortlessly Addie could comfort themandhow natural it was for her to step into that role. It wasn’t something Giselle could do. She was good at saving lives, but the emotional side of things wasn’t her strength.