Chapter 1: Chapter One
Chapter Text
The halls of Vosbein Medical Hospital reveal a crisp, sterile scent of disinfectant and wealth. Everything about the place seems to gleam. It had high-gloss tiles, staff wearing silver and gold nameplates, even a bright lighting that reflected everyone’s shadows. There was little to no chaos despite it being a hospital, it was controlled and properly done. Even emergencies felt like they performed a perfect play.
And in the middle of these halls was Dr. Milk Pansa Vosbein, a crown jewel of the Vosbein dynasty.
She moved through the pediatric wing like a scalpel. She was efficient, precise and sleek. Her white coat flowed behind her with every determined and unwavering step. The Vosbein family crest was embroidered above her pocket. Beneath the white coat, she wore long dark green formal sleeves, top with a neck tie that was in a lighter shade of green.
As she walked through the hallway, nurses nodded, and residents straightened. No one dared to breathe wrong around her.
This is not because she demanded everyone to. She didn’t need to say it in the first place.
The famous Doctor Milk Pansa Vosbein had a reputation. She was the first daughter of the founding family. A Pediatrician extraordinaire and a remarkable cover model of various medical magazines. She had sharp, dark brown eyes behind fine framed glasses that are wanted by a lot of people.
The tall doctor was persistent in her pursuit of excellence. Hours and hours of surgeries that result in a maximum two hours of sleep. She was however, still the first to arrive, last to leave. She believed that everyone, especially children under her care, deserves perfect care.
“Doctor Pansa…” A trembling voice called from behind her.
She paused, tilting her head only slightly to the voice.
An intern jogged to catch up, clutching a clipboard like it’s his last time holding one.
“The patient from room 623—”
“Is stable.” Milk finished for him. “Post-op fever’s down, CBC came back normal, and the parent is asking for another consultation just to be sure.”
The intern blinked. “Yes, ma’am. Exactly.”
She kept walking, and the intern continued following her. “Okay. Don’t make me read it to you next time.”
They turned a corner, sunlight reflected through the glass-paneled wall beside them. The pediatric lounge was just around the corner. It was filled with bright murals for kids and comfortable chairs for parents.
As they continued their path, the air suddenly shifted.
Across the corridor, another white coat caught the light, but this one moved differently from the first doctor.
Doctor Love Pattranite Vosbein. Another famous Vosbein.
If Milk moved like a blade, Love moved like water. She was graceful, fluid, and easy. Her presence didn’t command attention, rather, it invited it. She was wearing the same white coat as the other Vosbein, but she had pink formal wear beneath it. Her long chestnut hair paired with her brown eyes is what got the people conscious about the doctor.
She was mid-conversation with a visiting board member, her laugh was soft and polite as she gestured toward the cardiac wing with the effortless poise of someone who belonged in both a boardroom and an operating space.
She hadn’t change.
Still the same elegant and bright doctor.
Milk’s gaze flickered once. Love didn’t look her way.
They passed like ghosts in daylight. No words thrown, no acknowledgement. It was just the heavy and unspoken weight of history hanging between them.
Behind Milk, the intern followed her. “Doctor Pansa.” He started, “I heard that Doctor Love—”
She stopped walking. The intern stopped as well.
Milk turned slowly. “Do you have a question about our work? Or is it just gossip?”
“N-no, ma’am. It’s work.”
“Then walk.”
They moved on.
Later that afternoon, Milk stepped into her office and let the huge glass door close with a whisper. Her office had floor-to-ceiling windows that disclosed light across the minimalist space. The room was all cold tones, steel pieces, and everything was too pristine to feel lively.
She stood near her table for a long moment.
Then, slowly, she reached for a familiar file folder. Inside were laboratory reports, old scans, and printed notes. A cardiac and pediatric patient. A case being assigned jointly.
A joint case for her and Doctor Love Vosbein.
She didn’t sit nor read the file.
The child’s diagnosis was rare. It was statistically insignificant. An extraordinary case.
It was tragically familiar to her as well.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
“Come in.” She said monotonously.
Her sister, Lingling, stepped inside. She wore a formal all black attire, paired with high heels. Attorney Lingling was the only one who could walk into Milk’s office without an appointment and a prayer.
“They want you downstairs.” She said, folding her arms, showcasing a small smile. “Charity Ball prep. Dad’s calling a full head table briefing and planning.”
Milk sighed. “Of course he is.”
Lingling gave her a look. “Try to look less like you just came from an eight-hour surgery. We are planning a party for god’s sake.”
“It’s a fundraiser.” Milk corrected.
“It’s both and it is a tradition, my dear sister. You and Love need to play nice for that night. And of course, for this meeting.”
Milk said nothing and just stared at her transparent windows.
Her sister stepped closer, her expression softened. “Shall I tell them that you’re not coming?”
Milk hesitated.
“No…I’ll be there.”
The boardroom was already full when Milk arrived. The long table was filled by department heads, managers, and event coordinators.
The room was also filled with large posters of last year’s Charity Ball, showcasing smiling faces and donation totals around 500 million Baht.
Her father, the chairman, stood at the head of the table, mid-sentence. “And I expect nothing less than intelligence and elegance. This is not just a ball, but we will also showcase the hospital, and ourselves.”
Milk slipped into her seat with a quiet nod, adjacent to her dad’s seat, directly across from an empty chair.
A moment later, the door opened again.
Love entered.
The room, as predicted, shifted because of her presence. Subtle smiles and straightened postures. Everyone focused on her for a bit.
She took the seat across from Milk without sparing a glance at the tall doctor.
“Perfect.” Vosbein Sr. said. “Now that both of you are present, we can begin the final coordination.”
Milk folded her hands. Love pulled out her ipad.
A woman from public relations began the presentation, flipping through the slides of press releases, floor plans, and lists of donors.
“Around 7:30 in the evening, we will have a press photo moment.” She said. “We need a photo of both Dr. Pansa and Dr. Love, posing to an official toast together.”
Milk blinked, confused. “A toast?”
“Yes.” Her dad said. “You two will be the public face of the foundation’s new pediatric-cardiac collaboration. This is your big moment.”
Love spoke up. “But sir, we haven’t finalized the patient selection yet.”
“Doesn’t matter. The symbolism matters more than the details right now.” The old man said.
Milk’s jaw tensed. “We’re doctors. Not mascots.”
“But you have modeled before, ma’am.” Said the woman.
Milk shook her head. “That’s different.”
“Exactly, ma’am.” she continued. “Which is why this photo means more than any donor speech ever could.”
Love said nothing. Milk just stayed silent.
“What’s wrong sweethearts? This is just a photo. This is not new to you guys.” Milk’s dad replied.
“Okay, dad. We’ll do it. No need for theatrics.” Milk replied, glancing at the woman across from her.
“I agree, sir. We’ll be there.” Love replied, still not giving Milk a glimpse.
“We are also expecting Amara to join you two during the ball.” Another woman in the room raised.
Milk frowned from what she heard.
“She’s not a prop. Leave her out of this.”
“But she’s important for the future of this celebration, ma’am—”
“Leave her out of this.” Milk repeated.
The whole room became quiet and everyone nodded in acceptance. Even her father agreed with her.
Even the woman across from her nodded her head.
“Anything else?” The old man asked.
“Nothing more, sir. We’ll continue with the donor list.”
The meeting stretched on, but Milk and Love said little else.
After the long gruesome meeting, Love went to the rooftop lounge of the hospital. The place was unusually quiet, its usual rush of doctors and executives were replaced by a calm lull that matched the feeling in Love’s chest. She sipped from a glass of iced tea, pretending to read a notification on her phone, but her mind was still somewhere in the boardroom.
Her mind is always stuck from someone so close yet so far away from her.
“Do you ever rest?” A familiar voice asked, light and teasing. “A cardiologist by day and a businesswoman by night.”
Love looked behind to find Prim approaching with her usual effortless presence. She was carrying a latest LV bag on her dominant right hand and her sunglasses perched on her head.
“You didn’t even text me that you’re back.” Love said, a smile appearing in her face. “And some of us are busy saving lives.”
“Well, I wanted to surprise you because I missed you.” Prim leaned in and wrapped her in a tight hug. “Besides, it’s so hard to set a meeting with you nowadays. I had to sneak past five nurses on my way up here. You’re still a celebrity in these halls, I see. Vosbein suits you well.”
“You know how it is…and I missed you too. Plus the one who is famous is Milk. She’s in every medical journal these days.” Love took another sip of her drink, even offered Prim some which the latter denied.
“Are we just gonna pretend that you’re not half of the power couple everyone in the world lowkey worships? Both of you are famous, darling. Let’s not lie.”
“It’s nothing.” Love replied.
Prim raised an eyebrow as she took the seat beside her. “That’s what people say when they’re emotionally challenged.”
Love let out a soft laugh. “Okay? So we’re doing this, huh?”
“I’ve been gone for almost a year. I wasn’t here when…you know. And I would notice something is off the moment I see your face.” Prim replied. “Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Love said lightly, but her voice didn’t quite match the smile on her lips.
“You’re doing that thing where you look okay but your eyes are screaming something else.”
Love looked away. “Really?”
Prim nodded. “Really. I know you.”
Love stood up, went to the nearest railing and leaned her elbows towards it.
“She was in the meeting.” Love said after a moment.
Prim didn’t ask who. She knows already.
“Still as composed and perfect as ever. She’s good at this.”
“That’s kinda the point, isn’t it? Both of you agreed to this setup.”
“I know…it’s just…why does it seem like nothing ever happened?” Love replied softly.
Prim approached the girl and comforted her. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay.” She said. “I did agree to whatever we’re doing. It’s professional, I guess.”
“You sure?”
Love nodded.
“Hmm…You know I played a woman like you once. She was in a corporation, and she buried herself in work to avoid feeling anything. After days, she ended up snapping and screaming at this restaurant.”
“Wasn’t that the drama you won awards to?” Love teased.
“Exactly, sweetie. So don’t be like her.” Prim replied, nudging her arm. “You’re allowed to be not okay."
“It’s just complicated.”
“Love,” Prim said. “If anyone knows how to handle complicated situations, it’s you. I know you know what needs to be done.”
That earned a long pause, silence.
“Yeah…I know.” Love whispered.
Vosbein Estate - At Night
The front door clicked open.
Milk stepped inside first, work shoes in one hand, laptop bag clutched in the other. Love followed, quieter now, her makeup still flawless, still beautiful.
Whatever performance had been required earlier during the meetings and planning was now over, finally.
The estate was silent. The lights were dim, the space was too large and empty for two people who barely spoke.
They moved like strangers through their own home .
Milk went straight to the kitchen, pulling a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. She didn’t say anything, still quiet.
Love, on the other hand, slipped out of her shoes and leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes staring at the back of the tall woman.
The silence stretched. Until…
“Do you think your father noticed?” Love asked, her hands hovering above her gold necklace. It was a necklace that Milk had given her years ago.
Milk looked back at Love. “He did. He remembered that time he went with me when…when I chose that for you.” She replied.
Love let out a soft and quiet laugh. “Well yeah, he was definitely proud of that moment.”
Milk just nodded, and turned to leave.
“Milk—” Love started, but small and barefoot footsteps interrupted them.
A small figure appeared in the kitchen doorway, rubbing her eyes with a stuffed whale in her hand.
Six years old, with sleepy eyes and messy hair.
“Mama?”
Milk’s voice softened instantly. “Hi, my baby love. Did we wake you up?”
Amara blinked up at them, then padded over and hugged Milk’s waist.
Love knelt down. “What are you doing out of bed, honey?”
“I couldn’t sleep…” Amara murmured. “I had a dream about whales! They were so cute, mommy.”
Love smiled gently. “That sounds beautiful, baby.”
Amara reached for Love next, wrapping her arms around her neck. “Miss you, mommy and mama.”
And for a brief second, the tension cracked. Milk and Love looked at each other.
They didn’t share a stare like doctors, or like exes.
But like two people who had once built a whole world together.
Amara nestled between them, eyes now closed again, softly said, “Can I sleep in your room?”
Milk and Love exchanged a glance. Love lifted her up gently. “Of course, my love.”
They carried her upstairs. Together.
Chapter 2: Chapter Two
Chapter Text
Flashback - Eleven Years Ago
The rain hasn’t stopped since late afternoon.
It fell in heavy sheets against the terminal windows at the local airport. Rain was so heavy that it started blurring the view of taxi windows and neon reflections on the wet cement. A lot of people rushed past, dragging their own luggages and umbrellas, shouting for taxi rides, and ducking under hoods. It was a normal chaotic Saturday at the airport, forming disorderly rhythms from both the arrivals and departures. And in the middle of everything, standing alone beneath the overhand, was Love Pattranite.
She shifted the placement of her luggage from one side to another, trying her best to not let the rain turn her bags wet. Bangkok was loud and overwhelming for her. She didn’t expect to feel so out of place, but then again, coming back to a country that you barely remembered was bound to feel messy and disorienting.
She glanced at her phone. No messages nor missed calls.
She looked at the traffic ahead, cars were jam packed at the road.
A splash of rain even hit her white sneakers. She was completely unprepared. No umbrella, no jacket, just a tired body and millions of uncertainties.
Then came a voice beside her. It was calm, deep, almost amused .
“You’re going to get soaked if you stay that way.”
Love turned, startled.
A tall girl stood beside her, holding up a large yellow umbrella. She had a long dark hair which was pulled into a low ponytail and wore a crisp white button-down tucked casually into her jeans. Her shoes were muddy at the edges, and there was a hospital ID badge clipped into one of her belt loops.
Love hesitated. “I’m fine.”
The taller one raised a brow. “You don’t look fine.”
There was no judgement in her voice, just curiosity and a bit of worriness. She shifted her grip on the umbrella, titling it to some degree to cover both of them.
“Come on. I’m parked a few blocks from here. Better than waiting through this heavy rain.” She said.
“You’re offering a stranger shelter?” Love blinked, confused.
“Well, I’m just going to guess that you’re not a serial killer. But don’t prove me wrong.”
That made Love laugh. A small, tired chuckle, but it was real.
“Okay…but I’m not walking that fast.” Love replied.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
They started walking slowly, the umbrella shielding them from the downpour as they made their way through the drizzle. The girl carried Love’s other baggage and she matched Love’s pace. There was something easy about her presence. She was confident but not arrogant, warm without being too much.
“Are you visiting?” The girl asked.
“Just moved back here.” Love replied. “First day again in this country after a while.”
“Back?”
“I was born here, but had to move abroad when I was young.” Love explained. “Now I’m actually back here for…school.”
“Oh…big change, huh?”
Love nodded, glancing at her sideways. “How about you?”
“Born and raised in this city.”
There was silence, filled only by the sound of rain and footsteps.
“Well…I hope Bangkok’s kind to you.” The girl said, as they neared a quiet parking level.
“Yeah? Thanks.” Love said, shifting her bag. “You’ve been the kindest part so far.”
The girl grinned. “You have low expectations, but okay. I believe you.”
She stopped beside a parked car. It was a black Porsche Macan.
“This is me. I would offer you a ride, however, I’m really late for an event, and my sister is going to kill me if I don’t make it in time.” She said.
“I don’t mind. Sharing your umbrella has helped me already. Thank you.” Love replied with a smile.
The girl just nodded and held out the yellow umbrella.
“Take it. You’ll need it more than I do.”
“You’re giving it to me?”
“Hmm…we can say that I’m lending it to you. Who knows? We might run into each other again.”
Love hesitated, fingers closing around the handle. “What’s your name?”
The tall girl just smiled, but didn’t answer.
Instead, she slid into the driver’s seat, rolled down the window just enough to say, “Welcome back. Don’t be late wherever you’re going.”
And then she was gone. Her car disappeared into the blur of rain.
A moment later, a taxi arrived in front of her which she immediately went inside to and got to her destination.
The next morning was still chaotic.
Love had barely managed to pull herself together in time for orientation at one of the best medical schools in the country, Vosbein Medical. It was her new academic home, the most prestigious one too. She had transferred in from abroad for her third year, and everything felt like a blur.
New faces, new equipment, new walls, and even the size of the campus and its hospital itself.
She found herself seated near the front of the lecture hall, already regretting getting the early time slot she enrolled during her registration. Her eyes scanned the crowd absently, trying to keep herself calm and checked.
Then, a familiar voice drifted across the room.
“Guess I was right in lending you that umbrella, huh?”
Love turned and froze.
There, sliding into the seat directly beside her with a coffee in hand and a half-smirk on her face, was the tall girl from the airport. The yellow umbrella girl.
Her white button-down was now covered by a navy blue blazer with the Vosbein Medical crest stitched into the chest pocket. It was similar to what Love was wearing, confirming that they are indeed in the same class.
“You?” Love said, blinking.
“Me.”
“You go here?”
The girl leaned back in her chair. “Third year, just like you.”
Love could only stare, confusion visible in her face. “Wait. Are you serious?”
The tall girl extended her hand as if they hadn’t met at all yesterday. “I’m Milk. Milk Vosbein.”
Love looked at her for a beat too long, before reaching out. “Love Pattranite.”
Milk’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Guess fate wanted a second round for the two of us.”
She shook her head, biting back a smile. “Yeah right. You wish.”
“You’ve no idea.” Milk replied.
Their sudden yet inevitable rivalry started that week.
Assigned to different anatomy groups, and rarely worked together directly, but that didn’t stop the banter and teasing.
Milk would catch Love’s eye across the lab and raise a bow every time she beat the clock on a dissection. Love on the other hand, would roll her eyes and quote every correction under her breath just loud enough for Milk to hear.
The professors and their classmates noticed their sparks.
The stolen glances during lectures. The sarcastic comments that sounded far too much like flirting. Long afternoon studies in the library felt more like a survival show.
Both are competitive. Both confident.
“Do you know that you could actually try not being annoying for a whole hour?” Love muttered once during their lunch breaks.
“Now that’s not fun, isn’t it?” Milk replied with a smirk.
Their friends speculated. They all knew.
But nothing was ever official during that time. Nothing was ever said aloud.
Yet neither of them stopped it.
Present - Vosbein Mansion
The Vosbein Mansion sat atop a gentle hill in one of the known villages in the city. All glass panels, modern architecture, and the familiar scent of jasmine from the garden Milk’s mother tended regularly. The dining room glowed under the soft hue of the ceiling lights, long shadows dancing across the pure marble table set for six.
Amara was the first one to rush inside the mansion.
“Grandmami!” She squealed, arms swinging as she sprinted across the living room.
“Amara, my darling!” Milk’s mother, Malai Vosbein, barely had the time to open her arms before the six-year-old collided with her in a hug that nearly toppled them both down. Her laughter rang out as she scooped the girl up.
“My little doctor. How’s my baby girl?”
“I got a star in science, mami!” Amara declared proudly, showing the back of her hand that has a star stamped in it. “I told my classmates that white blood cells are like tiny policemen.”
“Of course you did.” Milk said from behind them, removing her shoes by the door, a soft smile visible in her face.
Love followed behind, placing Amara’s backpack near the living room sofa. She was already greeted with a warm, extended hug from Malai.
“Love, you’re glowing again. It’s like you haven’t aged. How do you still manage this after shifts at the hospital and running a company?”
Love chuckled softly, deflecting with a well-practiced nod. “It’s all caffeine, mami.”
“I would also like to add that she’s never been late to a family dinner.” Milk’s father, Lek Vosbein, added. “I always say, she’s the one keeping this household in line.”
Milk rolled her eyes playfully. “Whatever, dad.”
But it wasn’t an accusation. It was part of the act, part of the familiar rhythm they kept whenever they were at this house. An act that they have to play well throughout every visit.
Milk’s hand on the small back of Love. Shared glances, soft loving laughters.
All of it was part of the act that hides the truth. The truth is that when they go back to their place, they’ll sleep in separate rooms again.
At the table, Amara sat between her grandparents. She was sharing her stories about what happened recently with her school day while sneaking bites of grilled chicken and jasmine rice.
Love passed Milk the soy sauce without a word. Milk took it, their hands brushing for a second too long.
It was always like this.
“Mom, where’s Lingling by the way?” Milk asked as she took a bite of her food.
“Had to pass today because of work.” Grandmami replied. “Your sister has been busy with new clients recently. Hoping she gets a rest.”
Milk nodded.
“How’s the hospital, girls?” Milk’s father asked as she filled Amara’s glass with water. “It’s one of the craziest days during this time.”
“It’s still the same, dad.” Milk answered. “Pediatrics is manageable. Plus we had a great number of new doctors.”
Love nodded. “Cardiology’s picking up, dad. We have more cases to study but we have the right resources so it’s all okay.”
“How about the gala, darling?” Lek added. “We saw the early promo posters. I must say that you, Love, looked gorgeous in that white coat.”
Love gave a simple smile. “Thank you, dad. It was the easy part. Milk and I are already prepared for tomorrow night’s event.”
“Hmm…” Malai sighed. “I still remember your first charity ball as residents. You were both so nervous presenting on stage. Now, you’re basically running the show.”
Across the table, Milk and Love shared a glance. A flicker of something, nostalgia probably.
Amara suddenly picked up her fork, mimicking a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen!” She announced, voice clear and loud. “Vosbein Medical Hospital welcomes you all!”
Everyone laughed. Milk reached out to ruffle her daughter’s hair. “You’re stealing our spotlight, baby.” She said jokingly.
“I’m practicing my speech, mama!” Amara replied.
“Are you giving one, dear?” Grandpapi asked, eyes amazed by her granddaughter.
Amara shrugged dramatically. “Maybe when I’m eleven, papi.”
As the night cooled down, Love excused herself to help Malai with dessert, leaving Milk with her father in the living room.
“She looks tired.” Her dad said softly.
“She’s managing a lot.” Milk replied, watching Love through the window as she smiled politely, passing plates of the cake.
“And you?” Her father asked, turning to her. “Are you happy, my child?”
It was an ordinary yet heavy question. One she had practiced to dodge.
She smiled, distant. “I’m okay, dad. All is okay.”
He didn’t push further. Vosbeins weren’t the type to press personal things forward. But his eyes lingered longer than usual as she turned away.
Inside, Amara clung to Love’s arm.
“Can I sleep over here this weekend, mommy?”
“Of course.” Love said, brushing a hand through her daughter’s hair. “But we’ll have to see if mama Milk’s schedule allows it.”
“I’ll swap shifts.” Milk said as she entered. “She can stay. We only have our gala tomorrow night then we can stay here after.”
Malai clapped her hands together excitedly. “Perfect! And maybe this weekend, we can all go to the flower market. Just like old times.”
There it was again.
That echo of a life that used to be fun and whole.
Love’s hand was on Amara’s shoulder, Milk’s hand was clasped together, and the silence between them was growing.
An act…like the usual.
Charity Ball Night
The Vosbein Medical Charity Ball was always a producttion.
It was the kind of night that every elite anticipated, where silk dresses swirled under huge crystal chandeliers and the Vosbein legacy was flaunted in both elegance and wealth. The guests came dressed to impress, not just to donate to the hospital's recipients. Doctors, business partners, socialites, and even politicians are present in the lavish ballroom at the Vosbein Oasis, a hotel also managed by their family.
The lights were soft and golden, casting a romantic hue over the crystal table settings and tall floral centerpieces. A soft classical music was also played live in the background, setting the rhythm for the evening’s opening hour.
Milk had arrived first with her parents and sister, greeting guests with practiced poise. She wore a sleek black gown, tailored to fit her frame like a second skin. She looked effortless as always. Cameras followed her the moment she entered, even offering her signature smile, the one the both women and men admired.
Standing beside her parents, Milk played the perfect daughter and the face of the Vosbein Medical. Beside her, her father whispered updates on board members. On her other side, her mother beamed with pride as she walked with her famous daughters.
It was a yearly tradition for them to enter as family, even when Milk had been married to Love.
She also wanted Love to have her own spotlight. She has always believed that she is not just a Vosbein, but she is also a Pattranite.
She was in her own world until her eyes drifted toward the entrance.
Love was right on time, as she always was.
Milk’s fingers curled into her palm. Then, finally, the woman she married appeared.
The crowd didn’t hush, but Milk’s mind did. She could hear the blood in her ears.
Love stepped confidently into the ballroom like it was made for her. Her deep burgundy gown hugged her perfect figure, its off-shoulder neckline revealing just enough to raise discomfort in Milk’s chest. She carried herself with the grace of someone used to attention and immune to it at the same time.
Love smiled when she spotted Milk along with her parents and sister. Not a wide smile, but it was enough to be believable. She crossed the room slowly, nodding politely at a few guests, thanking the photographers who called out her name.
“Sorry I have just arrived.” Love said as she joined their family.
“No worries, darling. You’re here now looking dashing as ever.” Milk’s mother said, reaching for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You look beautiful. Really.” Milk said before she could stop herself. It came out too sincere, and Love raised an eyebrow in amusement.
“Thank you.” Love replied. “Shall we?”
And just like that,they were the Vosbeins again. They posed side by side for the cameras. Milk’s hand grazed Love’s lower back as they stood close. Love laughed at something Milk’s father said. She tilted her head and whispered something that made Love roll her eyes but smile anyways.
They were seamless and convincing.
It made Milk sick with want.
Later, inside the ballroom, the event was in full swing, Waiters floated around with trays of expensive champagne. Speeches had been made, donations pledged.
Milk stood near the main table, engaging in polite conversation with a board member when she spotted Love across the room, surrounded by a cluster of business executives.
One man leaned in too close. Another touched Love’s elbow.
Milk excused herself.
She told herself that she was just checking it. That what she felt wasn’t jealousy. That she didn’t care if someone else flirted with Love.
But the moment she stepped behind Love, close enough to make the other woman feel it, she whispered, “Having fun?”
Love didn’t flinch. She glanced over her shoulder. “Jealous?”
“You wish.” Milk snickered, voice low.
Love turned to her completely. “Really? You look like you’re about to murder someone, Mrs. Vosbein…”
“I’m just watching over our hospital’s co-chair.”
“Mhmm…” Love said, sipping her drink. “You’re hovering.”
Milk opened her mouth to response but a passing waiter nearly bumped into them, breaking their stare. Someone called Love’s name and Milk stepped back.
“Let’s not do this here…” Love said quietly, her eyes sharp.
The moment the restroom door clicked shut behind her, Love exhaled sharply, pressing her hands to the marble counter as if bracing herself.
The door creaked open again. She didn’t have to turn around.
She knew it was Milk.
“Running away?” Milk asked, deep voice, too close already.
Love looked up in the mirror. Their eyes met in the reflection. She didn’t answer.
Milk stepped forward, heels clicking once on the tile, then falling silent. She was now standing directly behind her, just a breath away.
“I saw the way you looked at me.” Milk said, almost taunting.
Love laughed, sharp and breathless. “I was pretending to love you, remember? We’re good at that. Pretending.”
There was a pause, a small yet dangerous silence.
Then Milk reached out, fingers sliding up her bare arm. Goosebumps followed in their wake.
“You’re terrible at lying, Love.”
Love whipped around, meaning to push her away or even slap her. But her hand barely touched Milk’s shoulder before she was grabbed by the wrist and pushed gently back against the marble.”
Their mouths crashed together.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t even romantic.
It was months of unsaid words, unhealed wounds. It was filled with grief and desire wrapped in a single, gasping kiss.
Love moaned into her mouth.
Hands moved everywhere. On hips, under the silk, dragging up the fabric. Lips were bruising and their breaths hitching. Tongues slick and fighting for dominance.
Milk always won.
Love pulled back for a second, panting. “We can’t do—”
Milk’s mouth moved to the woman’s neck. “We already are.”
Love’s head tilted back against the mirror as Milk kissed her throat and through her collarbone. She continued downwards and stopped at the very center of her chest like it still belonged to her.
One strap of Love’s gown fell, then the other one.
Milk dropped to her knees.
The sight nearly made Love come. Her knees went weak at the sight. One hand gripped the edge of the marble, the other tangled in Milk’s dark hair.
“Don’t tease…” Love warned.
“You know I never do…sometimes.” Milk murmured against her inner thigh.
It was slow and deliberate. Tongue warm and relentless.
She kissed her like she remembered everything, every scar, every gasp, every shiver.
Love bit her fist to herself from moaning loud. Her legs trembled.
She came undone with a cry she barely managed to muffle. Her back arching and toes curling in heels that she never had the time to take off.
Milk stood, kissing her again before she could fully catch her breath.
Love tasted herself on her lips. She hated how much she still loved that feeling.
They kissed until the tension softened…
Milk pressed their foreheads together.
“We said never again…” Love whispered.
“We always say that.” Milk answered, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “And something happens again.”
A beat of silence.
“I hate this…” Love said. “I hate how much I still—”
Milk kissed her before she could finish the sentence.
When they finally pulled apart, Love adjusted her dress in front of the mirror, both of them silently fixing their hair, smudging away the evidence, similar to how they cover wounds as doctors.
They didn’t speak as they walked out of the restroom, one after the other.
The act resumed. The pain lingered.
They never talked about it again. Just like the other nights that have occurred.
Notes:
A lot has happened in this chapter lmao.
I'll update this week!
Thank you for reading <3
Chapter Text
Flashback - Eleven Years Ago
The sound of rustling paper and the murmurs of the students has filled the study area. Piles of biochemistry and pharmacology flashcards, pastel highlighters, and half empty coffee were placed on the table. It was exam week at the Vosbein Medical, and the tension was as thick as the humid air in Bangkok.
Love sat in her usual spot by the window, her posture perfect, and pen poised like a weapon over her binder notebook. She was dressed perfectly despite the chaos of the hell week. Her white button-down shirt tucked into her black skirt, hair pulled back into a neat bun, while a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose. She looked every bit the model med student that every parent wanted.
Across the table, Milk leaned back in her chair, long legs stretched out, neurology textbook open but clearly not reading nor studying. She was dressed more casually since it’s outside school hours. Her sleeves rolled up, leather jacket draped over her chair, and her dark hair slightly messy as though she’d run a hand through it out of boredom.
“Let’s make a bet.” Milk said suddenly, leaning towards the table as she twirls her pen between her fingers.
“No.” Love didn’t need to look up from her notes.
“You didn’t even hear what I wanted.”
“I already know what you’re going to say.” Love replied, flipping a page of her book. “Something about how whoever scores higher on tomorrow’s exam gets a free lunch or free coffee for a week.”
Milk smirked. “And…what’s wrong with that?”
“You already know you’ll win, that’s what’s wrong.” Love uttered.
It wasn’t even an exaggeration. Over the past semester, they’d been locked in an unspoken academic rival type of deal. The batch rankings posted on the bulletin board told their story over the past months.
Rank One: Love Pattranite
Rank Two: Milk Vosbein
Rank One: Milk Vosbein
Rank Two: Love Pattranite
Sometimes, Love managed to claim the top spot, but most of the time, Milk held it. She held it casually, without even studying hard which made all these infuriating to Love.
The next morning, after the exam results were released, the board showed the familiar sight, which is Milk’s name on top.
“Congratulations, Vosbein.” Love said firmly when Milk approached her in the hallway after class, clutching her bag tightly against her side.
Milk only smiled. “Huh? What’s this? No witty comebacks nor sarcastic remarks? Did I finally defeat you?” She replied jokingly.
Love forced a tight smile. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of taking this lightly, Vosbein.”
Milk tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her eyes, but before she could reply, Love turned and walked away.
That night, Love sat at her desk, laptop open, and a video call from her parents flickering on the screen. They were thousands of miles away, speaking from their glass-walled living room abroad. Her father’s voice was sharp.
“Second place again?”
Love gripped her pen so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “Father, it’s just one ranking. I can—”
“One ranking turns into a habit, Pattranite.” Her father interrupted. “You didn’t come back to Thailand to be second best. If you want to secure a position after graduation, you need to be the best. Not second, not almost. The best.”
By the time the call ended, her chest felt tight. The weight of expectation pressed against her ribs, making it hard to breathe.
The next morning, Milk caught her at the lockers, leaning casually against the metal door beside hers.
“Hey, you look tired.” Milk said teasingly. “Let me guess. You stayed all night trying to beat me, huh?”
“Leave me alone, Pansa.”
“Whoa. ‘Pansa’? Not ‘Vosbein’ today? I was trying to cheer you up. I believe you need it next time.”
Something in Love snapped.
“Look. I don’t need your cheering up or your banters. I just want you to leave me alone. In fact, do better, Pansa. At least I don’t have to rely on my last name to get through med school.” She said, sharper than she intended.
Milk’s teasing faltered the moment the accusation left Love’s lips. Her smile didn’t just fade. It seemed to fold in on itself, like she was trying to protect something fragile inside.
There was a beat of silence, the kind that made Love rethink of the words that let out her mouth.
“Is that what you think of me?” Milk asked finally, her voice low. Not wounded yet, but guarded, like she was bracing for the answer.
“I—no. I didn’t mean—” Love stuttered.
But Milk’s gaze didn’t waver. She held Love there, not with anger, but with a searching look that made her feel unbearably small.
“You think I only got here because of my last name? That I have never worked for it?”
Love’s throat tightened. “You make it look so easy.”
“It’s not. You just don’t see me when I’m trying so hard that I can’t breathe.”
The words landed heavy. Love remained silent, not knowing how to respond. Before she could say something, Milk looked away. She looked so vulnerable and fragile.
“I just thought…” Milk said softly, “that you, of all people, would know I’m more than my name. I know the privileges of it, Love, and I’m sorry. But I have also worked so hard…”
Love’s chest ached. “Milk—”
“I’m sorry.” She replied, turning away.
She didn’t slam anything, didn’t storm off. The taller girl just walked away, leaving Love staring at the space she had occupied.
And somehow, her apology hurt far worse than if she had yelled.
The weeks after that conversation were suffocating.
Milk didn’t glare at her. She didn’t make a scene. It felt like she disappeared.
She still sat at the same lecture hall roles, still spoke to other classmates, still answered questions when the professors called someone, but her eyes never once looked at Love’s direction. Not in the hallways, not in the classrooms, not in the laboratories, not in the library. Not anywhere.
Love hadn’t realized how much of her day was built around those small glances, the curve of Milk’s grin, the little notes she used to slide across the desk with doodles in the margins. Without them, the days blurred into something colder.
She told herself that it didn’t matter.
Then she caught herself looking for Milk in the cafeteria, her heart sinking when she spotted her sitting at a table full of people. She was laughing and smiling, but still not looking at her.
The guilt festered. She replayed that moment over and over, wishing that she could have stopped herself from saying those words.
By the time a medical festival came around, Love had convinced herself she couldn’t stand another day of this. It was a time where a lot of stalls and booths were lined up in the venue. All students were noisy along with the busyness of the hospital. And yet all she could think about was Milk. She needed to see her.
She spotted her near the microbiology building, speaking to another girl. She could see the tall girl smiling, her face gleamed because of the sunlight. Without thinking, Love moved towards her.
“Vosbein.” She called, but her voice was swallowed by the noise.
She then reached out, fingers curling around Milk’s wrist. “I need to talk to you.”
Before Milk could protest, she tugged her inside into the nearest empty classroom, her heart hammering. It wasn’t private enough. Love kept pulling until they reached a narrow storage closet, shoving the door closed behind them.
Love’s POV
The door shut behind us with a muted click, sealing us in the cramped space. My back hit the cool wood before I could even realize how close she’d followed me in. The faint smell of cleaning solution lingered in the air, mingling with the sharper, familiar scent of Milk’s perfume.
She stood there, quiet. Her eyes fixed on me like she was deciding whether I was worth the effort of speaking to. The light cutting in from the frame caught her cheekbone, her jawline, and that stubborn set of her mouth.
I swallowed, trying to find the right words.
“I shouldn’t have said what I said.” My voice came out lower than intended. “I’m sorry…it wasn’t fair to you.”
Her gaze didn’t soften.
“I know you work hard…” I continued, forcing myself not to look away from her eyes. “Harder than anyone I know. You care and you show up for everyone…and I…” I hesitated, nails pressing into my palm. “I let my own frustration twist into something ugly and wrong.”
Still no reaction from her. Just her eyes, still locked on mine, steady yet unreadable.
“It’s no excuse, but my parents…they’ve always expected me to be on top. The first or nothing. And when I saw your name above mine again…I thought about how you have Vosbein Medical waiting for you. How your last name opens a door that mine never will. And instead of being proud of you…I resented you.”
The silence between us wasn’t hostile anymore, but it felt heavier.
“I missed you…” I admitted, quieter now, almost ashamed of my true feelings.
Her brow furrowed, just slightly.
“I’m not asking for you to forgive me right away.” I added. “I just needed you to know that I know that I was wrong. I hate that I made you feel that way.”
When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost gentle. It was the most gentle she has ever been with me. “I forgave you weeks ago.”
She finally said. “But it still hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” I whispered.
She nodded slowly, as if weighing each motion. And then, softer still, barely audible, but I heard her. “I missed you too.”
The air changed after that.
I became aware of everything about her all at once. The faint scent of her shampoo, the quiet rhythm of her breathing, the warmth energy radiating from her in this tight space.
My chest was tightening with something I refuse to acknowledge.
Her eyes searched mine, like she was trying to read something. My own gaze betrayed me, falling to her mouth more than once.
“Milk, I—”
But the words never left me.
Because she leaned in slowly until there was no mistaking her intent. Her eyes held mine until the last second, when they flicked down to my lips.
And then she kissed me.
It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t rushed either. It was deep from the first brush, carrying the weight of every unspoken thing between us.
It was the kind of kiss that wasn’t just heat. This was a confession.
“I think I have better deals to form from now on.” She jokingly said when we parted.
I laughed but suddenly missed her lips on mine and so I leaned in again.
Present Day - Two Days After the Ball
Milk was perched sideways on one of the leather couches inside the pediatric department’s lounge. Her hair tied up messily, a lab coat half-slipped from her shoulders, and a steaming paper cup rested in her hands.
Across from her sat Dr. Piploy, her closest friend since med school. The one who had been there through late-night study sessions, emergency call shifts, and recently, her crumbling marriage. She was also there as she witnessed her best friend fall in love with Love Pattranite.
Piploy was the kind of woman who seemed unshakable and composed. She had neat long dark hair, pressed scrubs, and a way of leaning back in her chair that said she had time for you, no matter how chaotic her day was . She was also the first person Milk had met on orientation day, and they clicked instantly over hot coffee and mutual disdain for bad professors.
“So…” Piploy’s voice was drawn out, teasing as she crossed her legs and took a sip from her own cup of coffee. “Are you seriously not going to tell me what the hell happened at the ball? You look like you’ve been walking around here with two different storms in your head.”
Milk exhaled slowly, eyes darting to the ceiling. “You already know what happened. Let it go.”
“Yeah, no.” Piploy replied, lifting an eyebrow. “I know what everyone else saw. You and Love looked like the power couple for the cameras, walking down the room like you guys owned it. What I don’t understand is why the both of you disappeared together for like thirty minutes and came back with your lipstick smudged like you’d wiped it off in a hurry.”
Milk froze. “You noticed that?”
“I’m your best friend, dumbass.” Piploy said with a soft, knowing laugh. “I notice everything. And I also notice that you’ve been quieter than usual.”
Milk gave a humorless chuckle, leaning back. “It’s a complex story.”
“It’s always like that with you two. Complicated.” Piploy pointed out. “But you’ve got to admit, keeping this act up for everyone when both of you are not fine…that’s kinda exhausting. I worry about you.”
For a moment, Milk just stared at the surface of her coffee, watching the steam curl. “It happens. We’ve been through a lot…worse.” She replied. “The ball was nothing.”
Piploy didn’t push, but her gaze lingered.
“So, how’s the cardiology-pediatrics joint case?”
Milk’s jaw tensed. “You heard it. I’m pushing through it.”
“Milk…” Piploy set her cup down and leaned forward. “You know what that means. And you know what it could do to you…to the both of you. It’s not just a case. It’s…” She trailed off, careful not to touch the wound too directly.
Milk’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I know the risks. But I also know that I can’t walk away from it. Not when I might be the one who can make a difference. Something other people haven't done successfully.”
“And what about Love?”
“She doesn’t know yet.” Milk admitted, her voice flat but her pulse quickening. “I don’t know how she’s going to react when she finds out.”
“You’re seriously gonna die, Pansa. She’s going to kill you, and if she’s not, I’m going to.”
Milk softly laughed.
“I’m serious, Milk. Think about this.”
“I know. I already did.” She replied.
“She’s going to find out in that room, isn't she?”
“Yes. The meeting is set later.” Milk replied like it was nothing.
“That’s not just walking into a minefield, Pansa. It’s like walking into a warzone.”
Milk smiled, trying not to laugh. “Thanks for the encouragement, Piploy.”
“I’m saying this a thousand times today. I’m serious.” Piploy reached over, squeezing Milk’s wrist lightly. “I’ll be there. Just…keep it professional there. Whatever’s coming, deal with it after.”
Milk nodded once, pushing herself up. “Come on. Let’s not be late.”
They gathered their things and headed toward the conference room together.
Conference Room - Pediatric & Cardiology
The conference room buzzed with the low murmur of staff settling in, papers shuffling and laptops booting up. Milk entered alongside Piploy, her expression remaining neutral, eyes sweeping over the gathered team. They had pediatric residents, cardiology doctors, and other consultants.
And then her gaze caught on the woman at the far end of the table.
Love was already there, seated with the easy poise that came naturally to her. Her hair neatly tucked behind one ear as she reviewed a set of printed reports.
Just like when they were young.
She didn’t loop up immediately, but when she did, her eyes found Milk’s across the room.
Then Love’s lips parted slightly. She quickly masked her expression by being cool and professional.
Milk forced herself to match it. She slid into a seat two chairs down from Piploy, opening her tablet and focusing on the agenda displayed on the screen.
The head of the overall doctors department began the briefing. “Thank you, everyone, for making time on short notice. This is a rare presentation of a congenital heart defect. It’s something we’ve not seen in our hospital for several years. Dr. Love Vosbein from cardiology will be overseeing the cardiac side of the case, while Dr. Milk Vosbein from pediatrics will manage the patient’s overall care and monitoring. Therefore, this will be a collaborative effort from both departments.”
Love’s voice was steady when she spoke next, though Milk caught the hesitation before the girl began. “I’ve reviewed the preliminary echocardiogram and MRI. The defect is complex but manageable. Timing and coordination will be critical, especially considering the patient’s young age and current stability.”
Milk nodded. “From the pediatric standpoint, we’ll need to carefully manage the pre-operative phase to ensure the child’s nutritional and respiratory status are optimized. I’ll oversee and coordinate this closely with Dr. Vosbein to align treatment timelines."
Their eyes met briefly, a flicker of something unspoken beneath the clinical exchange.
Around them, the meeting continued smoothly, staff members asking technical questions and taking notes. But for the two women at the center of it, every word felt like walking a tightrope, balancing professionalism against their shared history and trauma that could neither be acknowledged in this room.
The meeting wrapped after a long time of disagreeing and agreeing. The cardiology and pediatric teams began to separate, speaking in low tones about schedules, test orders, and resource allocations.
Milk remained seated for a moment, eyes down on the folder in front of her, as if rereading the patient summary would shield her from what was inevitable coming. She could feel Love’s gaze on her even before she looked up.
“Dr. Vosbein.” Love said formally, her voice flat. “A moment?”
It was polite enough for the room, but Milk knew exactly what that tone meant. The real conversation was coming. Piploy knew this as well but she only stared worriedly at the two of them.
Milk rose, offering a faint, professional nod to the remaining staff before following Love out of the conference room. They walked side by side down the quiet hall, the air between them tight and suffocating. Milk could even hear the measured click of Love’s heels against the floor, steady but just a fraction faster than the usual.
They reached an empty panel room. It was small, and dimly lit. The hum of the air-conditioning was the only sound that could be heard. The door shut with a soft but final click.
Love crossed her arms, the professional mask slipping just enough to reveal her true face beneath.
“You knew about this? Didn’t you?” Her voice was love, almost calm, but too controlled to be anything close to calm. Milk knew this.
She met her eyes, her own expression guarded. “I did.”
“And you agreed?” Love’s voice cracked on the last word, just faintly, but it was enough for Milk to notice.
Milk inhaled slowly. “Yes.”
Love’s laugh was quick, almost a scoff. “Of all the cases? This is the one you chose to take?”
“This isn’t just about choosing.” Milk said evenly, though there was a shadow of strain in her tone. “It’s about doing my job.”
“Your job…” Love repeated, the words tasting bitter this time. “You think I wouldn't—” She cut herself off, pressing her lips together. Her hand curled into a loose fist at her side. “You think I wouldn’t care to be consulted? Or I don’t know, Milk, be warned?”
“You were going to find out either way.” Milk replied. “I just wanted to be sure before we had this conversation.”
Love stepped closer, her eyes locking on Milk’s. “Sure about what?”
Milk hesitated, her gaze briefly dropping before lifting again. “That I could handle it.”
The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful. It was the kind of silence that hummed the unsaid things. It was a mixture of everything. The shared history, the nights spent pacing the hospital floors together, that one case neither of them could save.
Love’s voice softened. “You think handling it alone is strength? No, Milk. It’s just you shutting me out. Again.”
For a second, Milk looked like she might reply, to say something. Instead, she swallowed whatever it was, her jaw tightening.
“If I thought it would protect you…” She said softly, “Then I’d do it a hundred times over.”
Love stared at her for a long moment, the space between them, feeling far smaller than it was.
“That’s not your choice to make anymore.”
The words landed heavy and neither of them moved.
Milk’s gaze didn’t waver, but there was a glimmer, just enough for Love to see that her words had hit somewhere deep inside Milk.
“Why this case?” Love’s voice was sharper now. Not backing out.
“I told you. This is my job. I am qualified—”
“No.” Love stepped forward, cutting her off. “Don’t give me the textbook answer. You know damn well that’s not what I’m asking.”
Milk’s fingers curled inside her palm. “It’s not about the past—”
“It is!” Love snapped, her voice rising. “It is exactly about the past. Don’t stand there and present it isn’t the same diagnosis, same prognosis, the same—” Her voice cracked, and she stopped.
The air between them was thick now. Too many memories coming back.
“You think I don’t remember?” Milk’s tone was low, almost hoarse.
“Then why put yourself through it?”
Milk’s eyes softened, but it wasn’t comfortable. It was worse. “Because maybe…maybe this time, I can save it.”
Love’s breath caught. There it was.
“Or maybe…” Love said quietly, “You’re trying to save her . And you can’t, Milk. You know that.”
“I know.” Milk said, but her voice was so quiet. It almost sounded like she didn’t believe it herself.
“You should have told me. Not just as your colleague. As…” Love trailed off, shaking her head. “Forget it.”
She moved to leave the room, but Milk’s hand caught her wrist, gently, but firm enough to stop her.
“As what?” Milk asked, her voice almost pleading.
Love didn’t look at her, afraid that she'd crumble down. “As someone who lived through it with you.”
She pulled her hand free, the door clicking shut behind her as she left Milk standing alone in that room.
Notes:
I'll be uploading the next chapter later or tomorrow :))
Thanks for reading!
Chapter Text
Present - Love’s POV
The repeated beeping of the heart monitor was like a faint metronome in the background as I guided the surgical team through the final sutures. The patient who is a middle-aged woman with a complex valve issue had come to us after months of worsening symptoms. Hours in the operating room had stripped away any concept of time, we started at around three in the morning. It’s now lunch time. It was long, but it was my routine. One cardiothoracic surgery a day, at least. My day never felt complete without one.
I am used to balancing my roles. A cardiologist, the hospital’s co-chair, and a business owner. It was the kind of challenge that might exhaust a lot of people. However, for me, it was a strange, grounding comfort. The precision of surgery, the weight of responsibility, the quiet hum of the operating room, it never felt tiring for me. If anything, the act of saving someone’s life was the only part of my day that felt uncomplicated.
When I left the OR, stripping off my gloves and surgical gown, I could already feel my mental shift into an administrator. My office was quiet when I entered.
Similar to Milk’s office, I have designed mine to be modern, professional, and meticulously organized, with a touch of subtle hints about my personal life that I have kept well-guarded.
On my desk sat framed photos of my daughter, Amara. One from her first day of school, another from a school event where her hair was messy from doing sports. But in one of my drawers inside the office, buried beneath the files and old conference documents, was a single and carefully hidden photograph.
It wasn’t a photo of me, nor a photo of us. It wasn’t even a planned photo.
It was Milk, back in med school, leaning against a café window, sunlight catching the strands of her hair, eyes were half-closed due to sleepiness. I have taken it with her own film camera, back when she was close to being asleep, and she had never noticed it. Even now, I wasn’t so sure why I kept it. Maybe it was a reminder of something beautiful. A reminder of something we used to have.
A knock sounded on my door that had interrupted my thoughts.
“Come in.” I said, shifting back into my professional tone.
The door opened, and Lingling stepped inside. Her sharp formal attire immediately caught my attention. She had probably just got out of work. Handling the Vosbein Firm as the sole lawyer in their family made her so busy. Milk’s younger sister had always been the picture of composure, and she always had that lawyer’s habit of observing everything without giving much away.
But today, she wasn’t alone. Amara leaped excitedly into my office with her school bag slung over her shoulders, her hair slightly undone from the afternoon wind.
“Mommy!” She greeted, rushing toward me with her small steps. I crouched down, wrapping her in a hug that instantly softened the edges of my long day.
“Sweetie! You’re so early today.” I said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead.
“Auntie picked me up! I even told her about my new science project.” She announced proudly, her smile shining brightly inside the room.
I glanced at Lingling, who shrugged lightly. “She was compelling too.” She said, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.
While Amara moved toward the corner of my office where I kept a small collection of toys, I exchanged a quick look with Lingling. Despite her cool lawyer exterior, Lingling had always been warm with me. After all, she has known me since my first year of dating Milk, back when I was just “the friend in med school who kept borrowing her older sister’s notes.”
“You spoil her too much.” I said softly. It was supposed to be one of our guards to pick up Amara from school today since both Milk and I were busy with surgeries today. Lingling always insists that she’ll pick up her niece from school. We had no problem with it, even though she always went out of her way to spoil our child. From buying small toys to enormous ones that filled up Amara’s play room.
“She’s my niece. It’s kinda a legal obligation.” Lingling replied, taking a seat across from my desk.
I sat as well, keeping an ear on Amara’s happy chatter as she lined up a toy stethoscope along with plastic syringes. I honestly have expected my daughter to resent hospitals since both her moms spent too much time here. But instead, she seemed to enjoy them. Even telling us that she wants to be like her moms someday, though I kept telling myself it was just a phase.
Lingling’s gaze shifted to me, more pointed now. “So…I’m guessing you already know.”
I leaned back slightly, recognizing where this conversation was going.
“The joint case. Yes.” I said, my voice flat.
She nodded. “I figured Milk would have told you by now.”
“She didn’t exactly tell me. I found out. Yesterday.”
Lingling studied me for a moment, as though weighing how much I wanted to say. “It’s going to be a high-profile case. I know what it means for both of you.”
“We’ll handle it.” I said finally. My voice sounded calm enough but the faint tightness in my chest told me I was lying.
“I’m sorry, by the way. I know how hard it is to handle Milk in this position. Even keeping things from you.” She replied worriedly.
I have always known Milk that way. It was both her strength and weakness at the same time. Yet I loved her regardless of the consequences of it.
“I know her, Ling. We all do.”
She nodded. “I also wanted to apologize again—”
“It’s okay, Ling. None of it was your fault.”
“No—I should’ve done way better of handling it for the both of you. It was hard to—”
“Ling. It’s okay. It’s done.”
It was never anyone in our family’s fault.
We spoke a little longer, mostly about Amara’s school and Lingling’s latest trial.
When they finally left, the office felt quiet again. I sat back in my chair and reached for the drawer, my fingers finding that hidden photograph without thinking. Milk, eyes closed, lashes resting on her cheeks, the faintest curve of a smile on her lips. It was a stolen moment, but I made sure that it was mine’s. And it always brought me back to that day.
Flashback - Eleven Years Ago
The coffee shop had become their place over the past few months. It was like a sanctuary tucked away from the chaos and difficulties of med school. Love liked it because it was quiet but not too quiet. It was the kind of place where the hum of the espresso machine and the low murmur of conversations of other students made it easier to focus. Meanwhile, Milk liked it because the light from the big front window was perfect for taking photos.
That afternoon, Love sat hunched over the pile of her cardiology notes, with her pastel pink highlighter dragging across the page in neat strokes. She was in full concentration mode. Her brows drawn closer together, lips slightly parted, trying to memorize the terms, when suddenly a faint click of a shutter broke her focus.
She didn’t even have to look up. “Baby.”
“Yes, baby love.”
“You’re doing it again.”
Another click.
Love sighed, though the corners of her mouth were threatening to lift. “You’re wasting your brand new film.”
“Huh? I’m not wasting anything.” Milk replied, her grin audible in her voice. She sat across from Love, her new film camera rested in her hands like it was the most precious thing she owned. “I’m investing in memories.”
Love rolled her eyes, but she could feel her chest tighten at the words. “You already have, what, like forty pictures of me this week?”
Milk pretended to count on her fingers. “It’s forty-seven, actually. And counting.”
Love tried to get back to studying, but she could feel Milk’s stare on her, heavy and warm. It was impossible to concentrate when her girlfriend was looking at her like that. Like she was studying her for something more important than an anatomy exam.
A few minutes later, the shutter clicked again.
“Milk—”
“Shh…” Milk said, leaning over the table to get a better angle. “You’re in your natural habitat. Future Dr. Pattranite, or should I say Dr. Vosbein, ruler of the highlighters.”
Love fought the smile that wanted to escape. She knew Milk had been obsessed with photography lately. Her girlfriend even converted the spare room in her condo unit into a makeshift red room so she could personally develop her own prints. The smell of developer fluid had become as familiar to Love as the scent of Milk’s perfume.
She has even memorized the way of developing a photo because Milk told her a thousand times.
“That’s a film developer. Stopper. Fixer.”
Eventually, the teasing gave way to a comforting silence. Milk fiddled with her camera, occasionally glancing out the window. Love kept reading, highlighting, jotting notes in the margins. Time passed by quickly.
It was only when Love looked up again that she realized Milk had gone quiet. Too quiet.
Across the table, Milk was slumped against the wall, her camera resting in her lap. Her dark hair fell into her face, and her lips were slightly parted in sleep. The rise and fall of her shoulders was slow and steady, completely at odds with the frantic energy of the usual hell weeks.
Something warm bloomed in Love’s chest. Something deeper than infatuation, steadier than the rush of their first kiss. She absolutely adores Milk’s face when she’s asleep.
Slowly, she reached for the camera. It was heavier than she expected, its metal was warm from Milk’s hands. She adjusted the focus the way Milk had taught her and, without thinking too hard about it, she pressed the shutter.
The sound was soft, almost like a whisper.
The image that would later develop and be one of Love’s favorite photos of Milk. The one that Love would hide in her desk drawer years later.
Love didn’t know then how precious this photo would become. She only knew she wanted to keep that moment forever.
Present - Milk’s POV
I was crouched beside the exam table, my stethoscope cool against my palm as I adjusted it against the little boy’s chest. His name was Tinh, eight years old, hair sticking out in every direction like he’d run straight from bed to the hospital. His mother sat at the chair, worrying pinching her brows, her hands holding a worn handkerchief.
“Alright, Tinh.” I said softly, catching his eyes. “Big breath in for me…and out.”
He exaggerated the motion, cheeks puffing up like a fish before releasing it. I smiled.
“That’s good. Try again for me, okay?”
While I listened to the rhythm of his heart and its beat, I asked him about school, about whether his friends were still playing basketball during their breaktime. It distracted the boy from the cold metal against his skin.
“They play…” He mumbled, “But I’m not allowed to run like they do.”
My pen paused over the notes in my chart. The faint murmur I’d caught earlier wasn’t my imagination. “Okay, buddy. We will make sure you can play like them again soon.” I told him, jotting down my observations. I explained to his mother the importance of follow-up visits and the plan to run a few non-invasive tests. She nodded, clinging to the reassurance in my tone even though I could still see the fear in her eyes.
After giving Tinh a lollipop, which is a contraband to most parents, but it was an easy bribe for us doctors, I left the room with the chart on my hand.
I actually never was the “kid person” person back in med school. In fact, I loathed the fact of having kids nearby. I was glad that Lingling didn’t have a huge age gap from me because I really did not like kids. Children were unpredictable, messy, and prone to crying over the simplest things to even over nothing.
But the first time I had imagined having children with Love, back when everything was still rainbow and happiness, something shifted. It made me patient in ways I have never thought I could be. It made pediatrics feel less like a specialty and more like a destiny, a choice for the future I wanted for myself.
I was halfway down the hallway when a familiar voice broke into my thoughts.
“Dr. Vosbein.” Piploy called, jogging up to me with her own clipboard tucked under her arm. “Ready to start all the prep for the joint case? We’ve got the patient file and preliminary reports from cardio.”
I adjusted the strap of my stethoscope around my neck. “Send the file to my office. I’ll review it before meeting with Dr. Vosbein—”
“You mean…Dr. Love Vosbein?”
I gave her a look. “Do you know any other Dr. Vosbein in cardiology?”
Piploy grinned, a little too knowingly for my liking. She knew too well how to push my buttons.
“No, ma’am. Just making sure I heard you right. She’s actually already on-site today. I saw her earlier in the lobby. She was wearing this gorgeous maroon dress under her coat. Definitely not standard hospital attire, isn’t it?”
I bit back a comment and started walking toward my office. Piploy, unfortunately, followed and her voice continued with a teasing manner.
“She was talking to Dr. Rachanun. I think they grabbed coffee together”
That landed like a tiny, sharp pebble in my shoe. I’m starting to get irritated by Piploy’s face now.
“Didn’t even know that they were close like that. They were even laughing.” Piploy said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
I opened my office door and turned to her, making sure my smile was polite but firm. “If you’re done with the gossip, I’d like the patient’s file now.”
She let out a laugh and handed me the file. “See you later, doc.”
When she left, I sank into my chair, flipping through the file. The child’s case was rare and complicated. A congenital heart defect that needed a high surgical risk. It was exactly the kind of challenge Love and I used to stay up all night planning for. Before .
Only now, things would be different since we weren’t the same people we’d been.
I told myself I didn’t care who she was laughing with. That the maroon dress was none of my concern. But my eyes still lingered on the part of the file that had her name on it and I couldn’t stop my stomach from tightening.
Attending Cardiologist - Dr. Love Pattranite Vosbein
The room was silent when I stepped inside, except for the low murmurs of the doctors near the far end. Love was already there, white coat draped open, pen in hand as she leaned over a patient chart with another doctor I didn’t recognize.
It was the kind of image that punched me right in the chest. Love is in her natural element. Her being focused, confident, and moving with authority that made people listen. The way her eyes sharpened when she was explaining something, her hand making little gestures in the air, and that slight tilt of her head when she asked a question.
The other doctor, probably a cardiology fellow basing on her badge, laughed softly at something Love has said. And then out of nowhere, all so casual, she touched Love’s arm. Just fingertips, light, but long enough that I noticed.
I told myself to keep walking, to already take a seat and not make a thing out of it. But my feet slowed down before I forced myself towards their direction.
Love glanced up as I passed. She gave me a smooth, professional smile that she’d perfected over the years. “Dr. Vosbein.” She said.
I returned the greeting with a curt nod, taking the chair nearest the window.
A moment later, Piploy entered, taking a chair to sit beside me.
“Already here early, huh?” She said, her tone too casual to be innocent. “Looks like Dr. Love is making friends.”
“She’s working.” I said, flipping the folder open.
“Yeah?” Her voice was laced with amusement. “Dr. Film, that doctor’s hand was definitely on her Love’s arm for more than two seconds. I counted.”
I shot her a sharp look, but she just smirked and pulled out her pen. Clearly, this was going to be her entertainment for the day.
Before I could answer, Love straightened and began speaking to the room. Her voice was smooth and steady, threaded with the kind of calm authority that drew everyone’s attention. She laid out the patient’s history, clinical findings, and proposed steps and people actually leaned forward when she spoke.
I hated that I still noticed.
The doctor from earlier stayed close, passing her files, nodding along like she’d been shadowing Love for weeks. Every so often, Love would glance her way, and the women would smile, too warmly, in my opinion.
I sat there pretending to write, while my eyes betrayed me, flicking towards the two of them more times than I cared to admit.
This is ridiculous. I knew this was just for work. I knew Love had that effect on everyone.
And then Piploy, without even looking up from her own chart, whispered, “Should I ask if you want me to switch seats with you? In that way you can stare at her without straining your neck.”
I exhaled slowly through my nose and kept my eyes on the table. “Focus on the case, Piploy.”
She hummed a laugh. “Oh trust me, I am.”
By the time we moved to the observation room, I forced myself to focus on my work more. I tried to focus on the chart in front of me, scanning the vitals, noting the patterns, and double-checking the background information on our case. But my eyes had their own agenda..
Across the room, Love continued to focus on her work.
I should have been admiring that. I should have been proud. Instead, I noticed her again with the other cardiologist.
Film’s hand brushed Love’s elbow when they leaned over the monitor together. Too close. Happened multiple times tonight. Love didn’t even pull away, and I hated that my chest tightened at the sight.
This should’ve been none of my business.
I took a breath, wrote something down just to keep my hands busy, and tried not to think about the fact that I had once been the one leaning in that close. That I’d once been the reason Love’s eyes softened mid-discussion, her voice lowering just enough to be meant for me alone.
No—I was not jealous. I was just…concerned.
“Pansa…” Piploy’s voice jolted me from my thoughts. She had a smirk on her face, the kind she wore when she knew exactly what she was doing. “You’re doing it again. You look like you’re about to strangle someone with your stethoscope.”
“I’m working, shut up.” I muttered, eyes flicking back toward Love.
“Of course! Don’t let me stop you from working…observing.” She replied. I could practically hear the teasing tone.
I rolled my eyes at her and returned to my work, but my pen stilled after another moment. Love was laughing at something Film had said for like a hundredth time. And Love—god help me—looked beautiful with that smile.
That was my last straw for tonight.
I stood up, the chair making a sound against the floor.
I crossed the room before I could talk myself out of it. Love turned, confusion flickering across her gorgeous face just as I reached her.
“Come with me.” I said, not giving her a chance to reply to anything.
Her brows furrowed, but she didn’t resist when I took her wrist. I felt her pulse beat beneath my fingers, a steady yet quick beat, as I led her down the hall to an empty on-call room.
The moment the door clicked shut behind us, she pulled her hand back, crossing her arms.
“Milk, what is wrong—”
“There’s…dirt on your face.” I said suddenly, not thinking through. I stepped closer. The excuse was flimsy, but it gave me permission to be near her again, to breathe in the familiar scent of her shampoo, faint under the clean hospital air.
Her eyes searched mine, suspicion mixed with confusion. “You honestly dragged me in here for that?”
“Maybe.” My voice was quieter now. I reached up, brushing my thumb across her cheek, catching the tiny smudge near her jaw. My touch lingered, more than necessary, as if my skin could memorize her again.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Her gaze softened, her lips parting slightly. It is as if we didn’t hate each other recently. As if we didn’t despise one another.
I didn’t notice the door opening until the sound of footsteps made us both jump back.
A female doctor who I vaguely recognized poked her head in, grinning. “Oops. Sorry doctors. Didn’t mean to interrupt. But…you know…” She winked. “I get it. Wives need their alone time too.”
She left as quickly as she came, leaving me with a racing heart. Love’s eyes still on mine, and a silence that felt too fragile to break.
Maybe this is one of our days.
Maybe.
Notes:
Milk yearning (& being jealous) for the most parts in this chapter lol.
Thank you for reading, even if it felt like a filler chapter.
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