Chapter 156
SOPHIA’S POV
Before Bianca and I went home, she suggested we while away time at a nearby café.
We sat in a corner booth. My arm hurt underneath the bandage. I hadn’t said anything about it all evening, but I was still in pain.
The waitress came. Bianca ordered coffee and a slice of walnut cake. I looked at the dessert list for a moment, and then I ordered the honeyed chestnut tart.
It was the same thing I used to order when I was twenty-two, before Ashley, before Damien, before any of it. I used to eat it after long study sessions at the university library.
When it arrived, I picked up my fork and took the first bite.
It tasted delicious but it felt like nothing.
The cake was sweet on my tongue but I felt hollow in my chest. I sat with the fork in my hand and stared at the half-eaten slice. For some reason, I felt…sad.
The feeling wasn’t intense. No.
It was a slow feeling of realizing that even small things had changed.
“Sophia.” Bianca’s voice was gentle. She sounded worried.
“I’m fine,” I muttered.
“You’re staring at your dessert like it personally wronged you p>
I looked up. She was watching me with concern in her eyes.
I set the fork down. “It tastes different p>
“The tart p>
“Everything.” I paused. “Or maybe it’s the same and I’m different. I can’t tell anymore p>
Bianca was quiet for a moment. Then she reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. My wolf settled slightly at the contact.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m going to talk now and you’re going to listen, because I have genuinely exciting news and I’ve been waiting all evening to tell you p>
I looked at her. “What p>
Her face changed completely. She looked really excited. Her eyes were basically twinkling. She sat up straighter and pulled out her phone, turning the screen toward me.
“Forty-seven thousand followers,” she said. “In six weeks p>
I blinked in shock. “On your food channel p>
“On my food channel.” She laughed “I posted that lamb stew recipe last Tuesday and it got shared eight hundred times in one day. Eight hundred, Sophia. And I’ve had three partnership offers this week – two from kitchenware brands and one from an organic ingredients company p>
I stared at the screen with a gasp. The numbers were real. The comments beneath her most recent video were full. There were hundreds of them, people describing how they had made her recipes for their families, thanking her, asking for more.
Something warm moved through me. I felt so happy for her. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. My wolf purred inside me with satisfaction.
“Bianca,” I said. “This is incredible p>
“I know.” She laughed. “I wake up every morning actually excited. I didn’t know I could still feel that.” She looked down at her phone for a moment. “It turns out I’m good at something that has nothing to do with him. And that feels-” She stopped, searching for the word.
“Like yourself again,” I said quietly.
She nodded. “Yes. Exactly like that p>
We sat with that for a moment.
Then she pointed her fork at me. “Which is why you’re joining me p>
“Joining you p>
“Filming. You have evenings free after your hospital shifts. Come to my kitchen twice a week. You don’t have to do anything complicated. You can just sit with me, taste things, tell me honestly if it’s good. You’re a doctor. People trust doctors. And-” she tilted her head, “it will get you out of your own head for a few hours, which you desperately need p>
I opened my mouth to decline. The reflex was immediate. I mean, I was too tired, too busy, too tangled in everything.
But I stopped myself before the words came out.
“Alright,” I said.
Bianca blinked. “Just like that p>
“You’re right. I have the time and I want to help.” I picked up my fork again and made myself take another bite of the tart. It was still hollow, still different, but I chewed it anyway. “And maybe it will help p>
She smiled “It will. I promise p>
We talked for another twenty minutes about her channel, about recipe ideas, about which of her kitchen disasters had almost made it into the final cut of a video before she deleted the footage.
Then my phone rang.
The number was from the hospital’s internal line. I picked up immediately.
“Dr. Sophia.” My colleague’s voice came through “Emergency surgery just came in. Severe internal bleeding, male patient, mid-thirties. Dr. Harmon is unavailable and you’re next on the list. How fast can you get here p>
I was already sliding out of the booth. “Twenty minutes p>
“Fifteen would be better p>
“Fifteen,” I said, and ended the call.
Bianca was already on her feet, gathering her bag. I could tell she understood what was happening.
“Go,” she said. “I’ll get the bill p>
“Bianca, I p>
“Go, Sophia.” She came around the table and squeezed my good arm gently. “Be careful. Don’t overextend that arm. Don’t strain it and eat something proper after, not just coffee from the machine p>
I smiled at her “I will p>
“I mean it about the arm p>
“I know you do.” I hugged her then turned and walked quickly toward the door.
I made it back in thirteen minutes.
I changed into scrubs in under two, moving through the motions automatically – locker, uniform, hair tied back, hands scrubbed to the elbow. The bandage on my right arm was covered and sealed. It would hold.
When I pushed through the operating theatre doors and the lights hit me, something happened that happened every single time – everything else fell away. Right now, I was focused on the life that needed saving.
The patient was already prepped. The team was in position. Someone handed me my instruments.
“Alright,” I said, looking at the monitors. I started reading the data. My wolf instincts were placing everything into clarity in my mind “Let’s begin p>
For the next four hours, I wasn’t a woman going through a divorce. I wasn’t a mother who had heard her daughter describe her as good as dead. I wasn’t someone whose arm hurt or whose heart was tired or whose dessert had tasted hollow.
I was a surgeon.
And in this room, under these lights, with these instruments in my hands – I was exactly enough.