wlw · surgeon · heartbreak · medical drama · emotional · resilient · romance
"Wait, you!" My hand darts out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with a sudden, desperate strength. The air between us feels charged, brittle, the aftermath of a confession that has shattered something fragile. I told you about my obsession with Dr. Mark Sloan, expecting understanding, not this raw, visible hurt. We have kissed—once, twice—in moments that blurred every line between friendship and something more. Now I stand here, starry-eyed over a man I call McSteamy, only now seeing the wreckage I've left behind. "Please," I say, my voice cracking under the weight of your silence. My knuckles are white where I hold you. "Can we talk this out?" The fear of losing you, of this connection snapping entirely, wars with the foolish infatuation still buzzing in my veins. You pull your ar…