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It had taken Santos a long time to feel comfortable enough in her own skin again to rebuild her confidence. Maybe it was the result of the drastic changes her life had gone through over the years, from Whitaker, forming a close friendship as roommates, to being ready to have a new partner, her now formal girlfriend García. Or maybe it was only fair to credit the long year of therapy she went through when she was an intern.
She had been an intern. That was the key word that defined Santos’s present, because now she got to work as a pediatrician. She still remembered her surprise when Al-Hashimi suggested that career path in the break room, leaving Trinity thinking about it far longer than she expected.
She had always avoided that path. Too much vulnerability for someone who struggled to be sensitive (even if she was, in truth, deeply emotional). The simple thought of causing a child pain made her chest tighten.
Still, she was surprised again by her girlfriend’s reaction when she brought it up over dinner. Yolanda offered it almost teasingly, using humor as a shield while she played with the noodles on her plate.
“I think… that’s where you belong,” Yolanda says, pouring her more wine. “Your weakness can be your strength”.
“My weakness?” Trinity repeats with a scoff, brushing it off.
“Protecting the innocent”. Yolanda replies with a shrug. “And, I mean… what’s more innocent than a kid?”
“No, no… no way,” Trinity answers quickly, taking a big bite of noodles.
“Tri, I’ve seen you make balloon people out of gloves for the kids who wait until late at night,” Yolanda points out, tilting her head to catch her gaze. “Seriously. Think about it”.
Trinity goes quiet, setting her fork down and forcing herself to chew with her jaw tense. As if she could ever really belong there, with her stupid sticker covered scrubs and that ridiculous ocean-animal stethoscope. No fucking way.
It isn’t until, out of pure stubbornness, she decides to try it, just to prove to both her girlfriend and Whitaker that she doesn’t have what it takes. She agrees to take a trial shift, following Al-Hashimi’s advice, even if she tries not to make a big deal out of it.
On her first day seeing patients, she remembers biting her lip so hard she made it bleed, picking at the skin, and nearly doing the same to her cuticles.
Good thing it went better than her first day in the ER. No major cases, no accidents, no… deaths. Just a mother wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly as she thanked her for easing her baby’s colic.
In that moment, when Santos didn’t know where to put her hands, she still felt a warmth spread through her chest that made her feel fulfilled… after so much pain had once filled her heart.
Truthfully, for Trinity it was pure euphoria to leave her shift with a satisfied smile, without having to deal with rude adults who doubted her abilities, but instead with children, most of them scared, who eventually trusted her with the promise that Santos would take care of their pain.
In those early days, Trinity Santos felt like a winner. Even more so when she stepped into the elevator, pressed the button, and noticed how the friendship bracelet, a gift from one of her patients, moved with the motion.
“You’re already loaded with gifts, huh?” Yolanda comments as she walks in. Even if her tone is teasing, there is a softness in her smile. “Fancy jewelry, I see.”
“Handmade,” Trinity replies, playing along, even as her cheeks ache from smiling so much.
She lifts her wrist toward García, showing it off.
“Then you must be doing amazing,” Yolanda says, taking her hand and holding it for the rest of the ride.
When the doors open, they walk in opposite directions because, well, no one knew that pediatrician Trinity Santos and trauma surgeon Yolanda García were married…
It’s not like they were actively hiding it. They were simply too busy looking at each other, completely taken, to bother announcing it to the world. Between them, they understood what they had, even if it had taken them so much to get there. Neither of them felt like they owed anyone an explanation.
Which may or may not have started to raise questions. How could it be that García, who usually dropped a sarcastic comment and left as quickly as she arrived, would stop just to talk to Santos, the only one she looked at with open admiration?
The difference in how they treated each other was obvious. Yolanda’s admiration for Trinity’s skills was constant, and it didn’t help that Trinity was always right behind her, smiling like an idiot, fidgeting with her stethoscope like a teenager every time she saw her.
But there was one question none of the nurses had been able to answer. What kind of relationship did they actually have?
For a while, the rumor was that Trinity was at least thinking about getting engaged.
She had been overheard talking about wedding rings with Whitaker. But that faded when another rumor took over, that García was wearing an engagement ring. Still, no one connected them… not like that.
Of course, people assumed they had slept together. Anyone who watched them for more than half a second could see the way Trinity bit her lower lip when her gaze traveled up and down Yolanda, and how Yolanda didn’t exactly hide the looks she gave her either.
But commitment? Between them? Marriage? The rumors grew and so did the bets.
Perlah and Princess teamed up, as usual, trying to get information out of Trinity, at least a name or a picture of her future wife. They tried everything, even bribing her with energy drinks, but not even that seemed enough to make her talk.
“Ladies, ladies… my wife would kill me if she found out I showed you the pictures I have of her,” Trinity says, shrugging, clearly amused.
“Why? Is she shy?” Princess insists, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Quite the opposite…” Trinity murmurs under her breath, shaking her head.
“At least give us something…,” Perlah suggests, leaning into Princess. “A small description.”
“Yeah, yeah. People are betting you’re with that blonde they saw outside the other day,” Princess adds excitedly.
“… a blonde?” Trinity repeats, pausing, pulling her lips into a slight frown. “No, my girl isn’t blonde.”
“Then she’s not blonde, but maybe she’s a redhead?” Princess presses.
“Cold, very cold…” Trinity replies before turning away.
As soon as she walks off, her green eyes land on the betting board. More specifically, on the usual hookups between doctors and nurses, except this time her last name and her fiancée’s are taking center stage… separately.
Trinity can’t help the small laugh she hides behind her lips at how far off they are from the truth.
Even more so when the rumors drift further away from reality. Sure, Santos is getting married. García maybe too, though she avoids confirming anything, while Santos keeps dropping ridiculous hints.However, no one seemed to notice it…
“Can you believe Santos is cheating on her fiancee with García?” Princess gasps to Dana, who looks up, wide-eyed.
“You shouldn’t be getting into the kid’s business,” Dana mutters, going back to her paperwork.
“Someone should tell her what her future wife is doing,” Princess insists, shaking her head. “I mean, go ahead and do it, but at work?”
“It’s the one place you’d never find out if you work separately,” Perlah points out with a shrug.
“… true,” Princess nods. “How did I not think of that? Smart girl.”
Trinity has to try really hard not to laugh as she walks past them, heading for the stairs, where she ends up running into her… supposed affair.
They both stop halfway up the steps. Without hesitation, their pinkies brush against each other, and they smile.
“Who are you cheating on me with?” Yolanda asks, raising an eyebrow playfully. “If you’re going to do it, you should at least try not to get caught.”
“Oh no, no… you’re my mistress. I’m actually cheating on my fake wife,” Trinity replies immediately, a small grin on her lips.
Yolanda lets out a quiet, amused huff, rolling her eyes. “Right. How could I forget?”
Trinity laughs softly, unable to stop herself from wrapping an arm around her waist, fingers brushing over the fabric of her scrubs.
“I didn’t know you had a thing for women who are about to get married…” she teases.
Yolanda nudges her shoulder in a playful bump, not pulling away, instead leaning in a little closer.
“Oh please… just for one woman,” Yolanda replies, winking.
And that’s exactly when Trinity loses it, because she can feel all the blood rushing up to her face with her cheeks burning.
“… sure, yeah… uhm…” she tries to recover, but another light shove hits her chest.
“See you at dinner,” Yolanda says over her shoulder as she walks away.
Trinity just nods like an idiot, turning to watch her go, holding onto the image of her hips swaying as she walks. She was going to marry García!
And maybe part of that excitement was what kept her from feeling any urgency to tell the truth. Also… she had always liked messing with people a little.
Santos’s day starts off quietly, with her first patient, a girl no older than ten, accompanied by her father, who looks weighed down with worry. Trinity quickly pats the exam table with a small smile directed at her.
“Please, have a seat, okay?” she says, and almost immediately hears the rough and metallic sound of her cough. “I see…”
“Yeah, the cough started yesterday after she got back from her game,” the father explains, fidgeting nervously with his hands. “We didn’t sleep at all last night because it got worse.”
“Okay, I understand…” Trinity says, nodding slowly as she slips her stethoscope off her neck. “I’m going to place this under your shirt, alright? I promise it won’t hurt, it’ll just feel a little cold for a moment,” she adds, showing it to the girl.
When her young patient nods, Trinity adjusts herself and carefully slides the instrument under the fabric until it reaches her back.
“I need you to take a deep breath…” she instructs in a patient tone. “And let it out.”
Following the movement of her breathing, Trinity listens closely before continuing.
“Now, could you cough a little for me?” she asks, hearing again that bark-like sound.
With that, she has what she needs and decides against placing the stethoscope on her trachea after noticing the sound of her breathing following the cough.
“Well done,” Trinity says, removing the instrument. “You did really good, okay?”
She takes a moment to write down her findings. No stridor at rest. The child appears calm, swinging her legs on the exam table and Trinity offers her a small smile before turning to the father.
“She’s going to be okay, right? Nothing serious?” he asks quickly, before Trinity can speak. “I… I feel terrible. I should have insisted more on her bundling up, and—”
Before he can continue spiraling, Trinity gently interrupts him. “The kind of cough she has is usually caused by inflammation in the upper airway, what we call croup, generally viral.”
The father nods slowly, running a hand through his daughter’s hair. Trinity writes one last note before continuing.
“She’s stable and breathing well. I’m confident that with medication we can reduce the inflammation,” she assures him, noticing his shoulders relax. “You did the right thing bringing her in early.”
“However, if when you get home tonight you notice she’s agitated or struggling to breathe, don’t hesitate to come back,” she adds, firm but calm.
He nods eagerly, wrapping an arm around his daughter and pulling her into a small hug.
“Thank you so much, doctor,” he says, with such sincerity.
Trinity blinks for a moment before answering. “It’s nothing, just doing my job.”
“It’s just… it’s hard, being just the two of us, and sometimes I feel like I’m not doing enough,” he admits, repeating, “thank you, really.”
“You’re doing well,” Trinity reassures him, noticing the girl settling into her father’s arms, eyes closing. “Don’t worry…”
She watches them for a few seconds more as the little girl climbs down from the table with his help, quickly resting her head against one of his legs.
“We’ll give her this corticosteroid. It’s a single dose to reduce the inflammation…” Trinity explains, handing him the prescription.
The father takes the paper, tucking it into his pocket with a grateful smile.
“Thank you, doctor,” Trinity hears in the girl’s small voice as they leave the room.
She allows herself a soft smile, staying behind to tidy her space. Her own space. A place where no one rushed her or judged her, and where she was growing more attached to her profession with each passing day, as if this was truly where she belonged.
A soft knock against the doorframe draws her attention. She assumes it’s another patient, but instead finds García leaning there, hands behind her back, watching her with a small smile.
“I heard this is where the hottest pediatrician is…?” Yolanda says, revealing what she had been hiding, a bag of red heart-shaped lollipops. “And that her patients might enjoy a little something like this.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” Trinity exclaims, quickly accepting the gift. “Seriously, I—”
Yolanda simply shrugs and steps closer, tilting her head to press a kiss against the dimple forming at the corner of Trinity’s smile.
“Thank you…” Trinity murmurs shyly, returning a kiss to her cheek.
Soon enough, they’re both busy filling a jar with the sweets for Santos’s next patients, and Trinity feels like her heart might burst at the simple thought that García believes in her.
Weeks after their wedding, they become more and more obvious. Santos heading down, García heading up to surgery, crossing paths in trauma, Yolanda immediately smiling when she sees her.
“You? Again?” Yolanda asks, stepping away from her team to approach her. “Miss me?” she adds in a whisper.
Trinity suppresses a smile, biting lightly on her lower lip. “Maybe, maybe not.”
García lifts a hand to adjust Santos’s scrubs as an excuse to touch her, her ring catching the light as she moves.
“You handling it okay?” Trinity asks, noticing a few dark curls slipping loose from her hairstyle.
“Yeah, yeah… it’s total chaos, as always,” Yolanda replies, rolling her eyes, though there’s a fond grin on her lips. “Apparently someone doesn’t know how to do their job.”
“Could never be you…” Trinity murmurs, lowering her voice.
“Obviously,” Yolanda agrees, though her tone softens. “I’ll see you later,” she adds, noticing the others heading toward the elevator.
Trinity taps lightly against her watch. “Don’t be late.”
Yolanda just shrugs, as if she doesn’t have much of a choice about that.
“Is the case going to take long?” Trinity asks as she approaches the main desk where Dana is organizing paperwork. “The trauma one, I mean…”
“No idea, kid. They’re in good hands with García, at least,” Dana replies, offering her a small smile.
“Yeah, of course… Yolanda is…” Trinity cuts herself off, biting her tongue. “She’s good.”
“You two are pretty close,” Dana notes, raising an eyebrow as her glasses slide slightly down her nose.
“You could say that,” Trinity answers with a shrug.
Dana watches her for a few seconds before adding, “So, how was your wedding? Got any pictures or something?”
“It was good, it was… more than I thought it would be,” Trinity says, nodding, a smile already forming.
She pulls out her phone and shows Dana the photos without bothering to zoom in or hide the fact that Yolanda appears in every single one, in that open-back white dress, Trinity’s hand always resting on her.
“… really nice, kid,” Dana comments, looking up to smile at her. “Happy for you.”
Trinity smiles lightly. “Thanks.”
“Yolanda looked beautiful,” Dana adds, leaving her leaning against the counter.
Without hesitation, Dana walks over to Perlah, tapping her shoulder to get her attention, already holding out a hundred-dollar bill as she leans in to whisper, “I’m betting Santos’s wife is actually García.”
“What? No, no… we established García is the mistress,” Perlah argues, frowning.
“I know what I’m talking about,” Dana insists, pushing the bill forward.
Perlah takes it, looking her up and down with suspicion.
“It’ll be obvious once you actually start paying attention,” Dana adds in her defense.
From that moment on, Perlah makes it her mission to study García and Santos, seriously considering the possibility that they might actually be married, starting to gather evidence before bringing it to Princess, just to make sure she doesn’t lose a good chunk of money. Something about Dana’s confidence makes her feel like it’s worth the risk.
And then she feels like a complete idiot when she notices the identical rings on both of their ring fingers, something García doesn’t even bother hiding as she pulls off her gloves and shakes out her hands under the bright lights.
It had always been right there in front of her. And it gets worse when she starts noticing how they interact, not like a forbidden affair, not like something secret and thrilling, but something deeply domestic.
From stopping in the middle of the hallway just to talk in low voices, neither of them using their usual tone, García no longer sharp and teasing, Santos no longer sarcastic, but both of them soft only with each other. Even the way one waits at the desk for the other to come out, like they already know each other’s schedules.
“Hey, Perlah…?” Trinity says, announcing her presence with a light tap against the desk. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Yeah, sure. Tell me,” Perlah replies, still a little skeptical, watching her like someone who already knows her secret. “Go on…”
Trinity narrows her eyes slightly before continuing. “García forgot her lunch in the car. Can you give it to her if you see her? I’ve got a patient waiting.”
“No problem,” Perlah agrees, taking the container, but pauses to add, “… if you confirm something about your wedding.”
“I didn’t wear a dress,” Trinity answers quickly, before she can even finish.
Perlah shakes her head with a smile. “Not that. But… did she wear a dress? García…?” she said the last part in a conspiratorial whisper.
Trinity just winks and turns to leave, giving Perlah more confirmation than she needed.
She’s got it, she’s definitely got it! Perlah is going to take that money home and rub it in Princess’s face at the first chance she gets.
Perlah moves to write her bet under Santos + García = Married on the board, only to freeze when she sees Whitaker’s name already there, a thousand dollars next to it, dated two weeks before even Dana placed her bet.