chapter 14 : The struggle between them

WILSON'S STRUGGLES BEGIN 

Wilson sat in her office, the silence pressing against her like a heavy weight. The discharge file with Stella's name on it was no longer on her desk, yet it felt like an invisible force pinning her in place. She had signed it. Stella was gone.

She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. She should have gone to say goodbye, but she just… couldn't. Watching Stella walk away again after all these years? It would've been unbearable.

Her phone buzzed. She grabbed it quickly, hoping. But it was just an email from the surgical department.

Pathetic. Why was she acting like a lovesick fool?

She sighed and turned to her laptop, forcing herself to focus. Charts, scans, medical reports—none of them could erase the ache in her chest.

Her fingers hovered over her phone again. Should she text her?

"Hope you got home safe."

"It was nice seeing you again."

"Take care of yourself."

She typed, deleted, typed again. Then sighed and locked the screen.

Maybe Stella wasn't even thinking about her. Maybe she had moved on the moment she stepped out of the hospital.

A soft knock on her door made her sit up.

"Dr. Wilson, your schedule for the evening." Her nurse on duty placed a file on her desk.

She nodded without looking up. "Thanks."

The woman hesitated. "Are you okay, Doctor?"

Wilson forced a smirk. "I'm always okay."

But the moment the door closed behind her, the weight returned.

She needed to snap out of it.

Wilson grabbed her keys. A drive home and some time with her son—maybe that would clear her mind.

But deep down, she knew… nothing could shake this feeling.

Stella was back in her life.

And Wilson didn't know how to handle it.

She gripped the steering wheel as she pulled into her driveway. The moment she parked, she slumped forward, resting her forehead against the cool leather. She needed to get herself together.

She had spent the entire drive thinking about Stella, again. It was pathetic. She wasn't a teenager crushing on her high school classmate. She was a grown woman. A surgeon. A mother.

Yet, all she could think about was how Stella had asked, "Have I done something wrong? Why are you pushing me away?"

The tension in her office had been suffocating. When Stella had asked if they could be friends, Wilson had hesitated for far too long before exchanging numbers. Now, her phone sat in her lap, dark and silent.

Would Stella text?

Would she even care enough to?

A knock on her window startled her. She turned to see her nanny, Sara, holding her son in her arms.

Wilson immediately stepped out, her face softening. "Hey, little man."

The baby's eyes lit up at the sound of her voice, and he reached for her. Wilson took him into her arms, inhaling his baby scent as she pressed a kiss to his soft curls.

"Did he behave?" Wilson asked, adjusting him on her arm as they walked inside.

Sara smiled. "Of course. Though he did stay up a little longer than usual. Maybe he was waiting for you."

Wilson's heart clenched. She had been so distracted.

She carried him upstairs, settling into the nursery. As she rocked him gently, his tiny fingers curled around hers.

"At least you'll never push me away, huh?" she whispered.

Her phone buzzed. Her heart jumped.

But it was just an update from the hospital.

She swallowed her disappointment and focused on her son, humming softly until his eyelids fluttered shut.

When she finally laid him down and returned to her own room, exhaustion hit her full force. She showered, changed into a loose T-shirt and shorts, then collapsed onto her bed.

Instinctively, she grabbed her phone.

No new messages.

Damn it.

Frustrated, she opened Instagram, scrolling mindlessly—until she saw it.

A notification.

Stella had liked an old. Picture 

Wilson sat up so fast she nearly dropped her phone. Her heartbeat hammered as she clicked on Stella's profile.

She was watching me.

A smirk tugged at Wilson's lips. Maybe she wasn't the only one struggling.

She placed her phone on her chest, exhaling slowly.

This game between them?

It was far from over.

STELLA'S CONFUSION 

Stella sat in the backseat of her parents' car, staring blankly out the window as the city lights blurred past. She should have been happy. She was finally leaving the hospital, recovering well, and back with her family.

But her mind was elsewhere.

On Dr. Wilson.

She clenched her phone in her hand, resisting the urge to check if Wilson had posted anything new. Why did she even follow her? It wasn't like she followed every doctor who treated her.

Then why did you want her to come see you before you left?

She scowled and looked down at her phone.

Wilson hadn't texted her. Not that she expected her to, but… she had hoped.

Had she imagined the tension between them? The way Wilson's gaze lingered a little too long? The way her body stiffened when Stella had asked if she'd done something wrong?

And then there was Emily.

That woman was too comfortable around Wilson.

Who was she?

The way Wilson had given her attention at the cafeteria—had laughed with her—had set something off inside Stella that she didn't want to name. And the way Wilson had immediately noticed Damien's mistake and brought her a proper meal? She cared. But if she cared, why did she push Stella away?

Her phone buzzed.

Damien.

She sighed and ignored it, shoving the device into her purse.

"You've been quiet since we left," her mother's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"I'm just tired," Stella lied, offering a small smile.

Her father chuckled. "Tired of Damien already?"

She rolled her eyes. "Dad, he's just a friend."

Her mother raised an eyebrow but didn't push further.

Stella leaned her head against the window, her mind drifting back to Wilson.

Why was it that no matter what she did, her thoughts always circled back to her?

She tried to focus on Damien—to respond to his texts on time, to laugh at his jokes, to let him hold her hand when they went out for coffee.

But it didn't feel right.

His touch? Wrong.

His voice? Annoying.

His presence? Suffocating.

It wasn't his fault. Damien had been her childhood friend, the one constant in her life since she was a teenager. But now? Every time she was with him, it felt like she was forcing something that wasn't there.

And worst of all? She kept comparing him to Wilson.

Wilson, who barely even acknowledged her outside the hospital.

Wilson, who looked at her like she was just another patient.

Wilson, who haunted her mind every time she closed her eyes.

She found herself scrolling through Wilson's Instagram more than she cared to admit.

Rewatching every post.

Every story.

Every picture of her at the hospital, in the OR, at family outings. And the baby.

Who was the baby?

It didn't matter. She told herself it didn't matter.

But the nights became unbearable.

Her thoughts wouldn't let her rest, and when she finally managed to sleep—Wilson was there.

In her dreams.

Standing too close.

Looking at her with those unreadable eyes.

Brushing against her hand like it was an accident.

The first time she woke up breathless, she shook it off. Just a random dream.

The second time, she blamed the medication still lingering in her system.

The third time?

She couldn't lie to herself anymore.

But she refused to admit what it meant.

Because if she did… everything would change.