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1.
Trinity could not cook to save her life. Well, she could cook some Filipino dishes extremely well; she had learnt them from her Lola during med-school when she got homesick against her own will. She could make a mean Kare-Kare and Sisig, but those were reserved for the time off her and Yolanda shared, when they could spend slow days in their apartment, kitchen full of music and laughter. Normally, Yolanda would handle the cooking and Trinity would just hover around the kitchen, unwilling to put more than 5 feet of space between them at all times. It was either her legs dangling off the marble countertops, knocking into Yolanda as she attempted to slice onions, or Trinity’s arms wrapped around Yolanda’s stomach, shuffling behind her like an uncoordinated shadow. Yolanda wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Yolanda was pretty used to cooking, always making her own meals even during her med-school years, so she could fix up quick, but always nutritious meals, before her shifts. When Trinity came into her life, Yolanda saw the usual Monster and RedBull accompanied by a few crackers that would consist of Trinity’s lunches during her 12 hour shifts. How could she blame her though? Both of them got pretty busy during their shifts, especially Trinity. The ED usually went from 0 to 1000 in the span of a few seconds, and Yolanda knew the toll that took on Trinity. So, she made it her own duty to bring Trinity lunch every day, ensuring she eats something. It started off tentative: an easy sandwich fixed up here and there during the morning when she woke up early, a quick bagel grabbed off the cart a few blocks across the hospital. But as their relationship progressed, she started putting in more and more effort. If it was that easy, she would have been cooking Trinity extravagant dishes the day they met, but she didn’t want to scare her off or seem too eager.
Now, after 2 lucky years of being Trinity’s girlfriend and 1 year of being her wife, she had learnt everything Trinity liked and disliked. Trinity always felt guilty that Yolanda would wake up earlier to cook them both lunch before their shift and she always insisted on helping, but this was Yolanda’s way of showing her love for Trinity and she did not mind it one bit. In fact she thoroughly enjoyed the routine of cooking. Everything is measured and precise, there was an order to it, something she was used to. Trinity needed the extra sleep anyway, she had just become a fellow at PTMC which came with longer hours and more demanding work. However, at her wife’s insistence, they had started meal-prepping on the weekends. Yolanda definitely preferred this though, she loved having Trinity’s chatter fill the kitchen as she diced vegetables, Trinity hopped up on the counter, just observing Yolanda (this was her version of helping after she had accidentally sliced her finger once and Yolanda assured her that just being around was enough.)
At the hospital, Yolanda would usually have both lunches in the staff room upstairs to make sure none of the odds in the ED would steal it, and would head down to hand it off during Trinity’s break. If they got lucky, they could eat together, so Yolanda would always bring both boxes down, just in case.
Now, the ED runs on gossip. No one is safe from the betting board, and recently, Trinity and Yolanda have caught the gossip mill’s attention. The interns down at the ED have gotten suspicious, but no one has really managed to put their finger on it yet. Every shift, without fail, Dr. Yolanda Garcia would emerge from the elevator, two lunches in hand, and make a beeline straight for Dr. Trinity Santos, easily handing her one of the boxes. Co-workers can be friendly, sure, everyone knows that Dr. Garcia had taken Dr. Santos under her wing from the start. But what facilitated the doctors’ meddling was that these lunches were always in matching boxes. Trinity would never ask what was in the box, she would always just accept it with a gracious smile, stopping whatever she was doing for a fraction to just look at Dr. Garcia. One intern witnessed an interaction between them as he was passing by the break room.
Dr. Garcia was sitting in the chair next to Dr. Santos, their knees slightly resting against each other. They made easy conversation, the kind that comes after years of knowing someone, as they opened the boxes. Immediately, without even paying it any attention, Dr. Garcia reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of hot sauce, squeezing some onto Dr. Santos’ lunch. She did it so casually, carrying on her story about some erratic family she dealt with. Dr. Santos chuckled lightly before she mixed the hot sauce around and peered at the woman in front of her with a knowing smile. Only then, Yolanda paused her story, speaking before Trinity could say anything.
“Well I knew you would complain about it being too bland so I packed your hot sauce along.” Yolanda just shrugged.
Trinity narrowed her eyes slightly but there was a glint in them as a small smile spread across her face. The intern swore that Dr. Garcia’s expression turned incredibly soft as she looked at Dr. Santos, but who would believe that about the Big Bad Surgeon of PTMC.
Another time, Yolanda was up on her floor, eating lunch in the breakroom because Trinity was having a busy day. As she ate and caught up on some emails on her phone, Dr. Flores walked in, glancing at Yolanda’s lunch. He came over to the table and reached for the strawberries. Yolanda pulled the box slightly closer to herself, and without even looking up, muttered,
“Nope. These are for Trinity.” Yolanda had specifically packed extra in her own box because she knew Trinity would want something to snack on in the late hours of her shift. Trinity had packed some for her own lunch too but Yolanda knew she would eat those in the morning and want more later.
Dr. Flores raised an eyebrow and inquired “Trinity…?”
Yolanda looked at him with a completely neutral expression and said “Dr. Trinity Santos. Down in the ED. You know her, she’s the talented doctor who did the REBOA on her first day here during the MCI.”
Dr. Flores ahhh-ed and said of course. He was a little bit suspicious about why Garcia was keeping strawberries for another doctor but his stomach grumbled instead and he just leaned down to check the fridge for anything else to eat.
The next time he was down in the ED, he slipped Ahmad a 20 and told him to put him down for 8 months on the board.
2.
Trinity had never had a particularly great sleep schedule. Coupled with her persistent insomnia, she was lucky if she even got 2 hours a night. After a gruelling shift, every muscle in her body would ache and all she wanted was a few restful hours; she wasn’t even asking for the best sleep ever, just enough to get her through the day without involuntarily falling asleep in the bathroom. But when was she ever that lucky? Yolanda caught onto this almost immediately, noticing the way Trinity’s eyes would flutter closed every time she sat down at her workstation, cataloguing how her attentiveness wore down the same way near the end of every shift as bone-deep exhaustion took over. Yolanda had also gone through the same arduous routine during her residency years, but she noticed that Trinity’s tiredness never really seemed to let up. Even after a long weekend or consecutive days off, the deep-set dips beneath her eyes shone concerningly purple under the fluorescent lights. Yolanda knew that Trinity was extremely thorough and competent, she would never let this compromise her patients, but more than that, Yolanda knew that this would chip away at Trinity until there was nothing left if she continued on like this.
The first time Yolanda tried questioning Trinity about her sleeping habits, Trinity got extremely defensive and barked out that she can take care of herself just fine without someone prying. But even then Yolanda instantly noted how the last words seemed to slur out of Trinity’s mouth, teetering on the edge of incoherence. Yolanda let it go that time solely because Trinity’s demeanor changed so quickly that Yolanda knew any more efforts on her part would be completely disregarded. The next time, Yolanda made Trinity some chamomile tea, completely herbal and caffeine free, and quickly handed it off to her without a word as she left PTMC after her shift. At Trinity’s apartment, she noticed that her sheets were barely comfortable, sort of itchy, and just overall not optimal for sleep when you were already struggling with it. Without making a thing of it, Yolanda bought some higher-thread count sheets, the ones Trinity had specifically complimented at Yolanda’s place, and slipped them in the closet before she left. She also kept a box of chamomile tea and some simple vitamins (B6, Vitamin D, and B12) in the kitchen, hoping that Trinity would use them; and she did. Yolanda knew Trinity was really affected when she didn’t even argue with her about these things, she just accepted them with a shy, gratuitous smile, pink blush coloring the tips of her ears. Although none of these were a permanent fix, they seemed to be helping slightly. Trinity arrived at work looking a bit more rested every day, managing to pull through entire shifts without dozing off.
However, something that worked even better was having Trinity stay over at Yolanda’s apartment, holding her close in bed, arms draped over her protectively. Yolanda kept a grounding hand placed against Trinity’s stomach and ran her fingers through her hair, softly cooing her until Trinity’s breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep. After the first few times and the initial fear of staying overnight passed, Trinity admitted that this was the best sleep she’s had in years. After that early morning confession, Yolanda began asking Trinity to stay over as much as possible, and over time, Trinity’s previous fatigue began wearing off. After they moved in together, Trinity never woke up as restless as she used to, finally having a home where even her worst nights ended in Yolanda’s safe arms.
For a while, it worked almost perfectly. Then Trinity became a fellow. With the new position, she often had to head into work earlier than before and stay later. Yolanda would wake up in the mornings with a cold mattress at her side, but Trinity always tucked the blanket around her before she got up. The now distant exhaustion began working its way through Trinity again. She would find herself reluctantly resting in the on-call rooms whenever she got the chance, which let’s be honest, was never in the ED. Yolanda had to rush into an emergency surgery and she shot Trinity a quick text to tell her to take the car and go home, she could just uber home when she’s free, but Trinity insisted on waiting for her. It was nearing 1am when Yolanda got out of surgery and she headed down to the ED to get Trinity and finally leave, but of course she got pulled into a “quick” consult. As she talked it over with Dr. Shen, Yolanda caught a glimpse of her wife in the break-room. Trinity was slouched over in a rickety plastic chair, neck bent at an awkward angle, legs sprawled out in front of her. Yolanda’s heart tugged at the sight, she hated how Trinity was already stretched out thin but now she had to stay even later because of her. Her eyes softened and she lost her trail of thought when Shen cleared his throat and Yolanda was suddenly alerted that she had literally stopped speaking.
“Uhhh…is there something I’m missing?” Shen asked tentatively as his gaze followed Yolanda’s eyeline and he looked into the breakroom to see Dr. Santos slumped in a chair.
“Oh. I was saying that the patient needed...” Yolanda started again but she couldn’t stop looking at Trinity, at last submitting to her need to go to her as she just held her finger up at Shen, signalling for him to wait a moment.
She entered the breakroom and Yolanda took off her own jacket, folded it neatly, and slipped it under Trinity’s head. Yolanda smoothed Trinity’s hair over with the palm of her hand and pulled it out from under her shoulders so it didn’t tug, resisting the urge to run her fingers through it. When she turned back, she saw Shen standing in the doorway with a raised eyebrow and a questioning look etched across his face. He swore he saw Yolanda’s expression harden in real time, returning to her usual steely gaze after looking almost gentle as she tended to Trinity.
Yolanda stepped toward him as she dimmed the lights in the breakroom and shut the door with extreme caution upon exiting. She easily picked up where they left off, detailing her input on the patient. Shen acutely ignored every word that came out of Yolanda’s mouth, instead peering over her shoulder into the breakroom, and then looking back at Yolanda with even more confusion than before.
Yolanda let out a frustrated breath and deadpanned, “Trinity would have woken up with a crick in her neck because your fucking breakroom sucks.”
Shen pumped his eyebrows once and had a teasing tone in his voice as he smiled and questioned “Trinity, huh? Why do you care how she sleeps?”
Yolanda rolled her eyes but before she could say anything, Shen got called into a trauma room.
“This isn’t over yet.” Shen whispered as he walked away from Yolanda.
Almost twenty minutes later, Yolana was finally wrapping up when Trinity emerged from the breakroom rubbing sleep out of her eyes and wearing Yolanda’s jacket. That’s the first thing Shen clocked. Yolanda immediately turned around as if she sensed Trinity’s presence and didn’t even seem to pay the jacket any attention.
Without a single word, Yolanda just stretched her hand forward toward Trinity.
Trinity returned a lazy shrug "I'm not driving."
"You were about to." Yolanda just stared at her.
Trinity let out an exaggerated sigh before dropping the keys into Yolanda's waiting hand. "I'm awake now."
"Yeah yeah, that's what you said last time."
Trinity groaned. "You always do this."
"Because you usually argue with me first." A small smile was working its way to Yolanda’s lip as she tried, and failed, to be fake-annoyed at her wife, but really she just felt endearment.
Yolanda and Trinity waved a quick goodbye to Shen who had been pretending to read a chart but was eavesdropping on that whole exchange.
Shen blinked, Always? Usually?
He set a reminder to give Ahmad $50 and put him down for 1.5 years.
3.
When Trinity proposed to Yolanda, she did so with a sleek golden ring, a round diamond sitting in the middle with two smaller ones on either side. It was elegant and graceful, just as she had always known Yolanda to be. Yolanda never took the ring off, except at work of course. She loved catching sight of it glinting at night, a quiet reminder that Trinity had chosen her. She loved that idea so much in fact, that she suggested getting matching tattoos on their ring fingers since neither of them could keep the ring on constantly. Trinity blushed such a deep shade of red, almost identical to the wine they were sipping on, and kissed Yolanda with such reverence when she asked that Yolanda took that as a yes. That same night, they went to the tattoo parlor and got each other’s initials tattooed on the inside of their ring fingers. They left the tattoo shop with sore fingers, matching tattoos, and matching grins they couldn't quite wipe off. Trinity reached across the center console at the first red light, tracing the fresh ink with the pad of her thumb as though she couldn't quite believe it was real. Yolanda caught her hand before the light turned green and kissed her knuckles.
It became a grounding habit for both of them to absentmindedly run their thumb across the tattoo, forever sitting there as a reminder. The ink softened over time but the ritual never ceased. Yolanda would often catch Trinity in the middle of the trauma room, running her gloved thumb over the tattoo while they waited to see if the patient’s stats were going up. For both of them, this was as instinctual as reaching out for the other in bed.
Yolanda stood at the sink, getting ready to scrub into surgery when one of the interns appeared at her side. She gave him a quick sideways glance and a nod before rinsing the suds off her arms. The intern looked over and cocked his head slightly. He opened his mouth once, then twice, and he shut it both times. Yolanda felt a spark of annoyance rush through her spine as she turned toward the intern and raised her eyebrow, “Well? What is it?”
He looked suddenly flustered and started rambling a string of “Oh it’s nothing” and “Hahaha nevermind…” before Yolanda’s patience ran out and she gave him a look that could cut through his soul. “Just spit it out”
“Um..well..I noticed you had a tattoo on your finger when you were teaching me the subcuticular suture, and I wanted to ask about it, but I just saw it clearly now and it’s a ‘T’? Your name doesn’t have a T in it.” He was practically oozing embarrassment.
“How observant.” Yolanda bit, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. She wasn’t mad about his question, she was mad that he was wasting time before the surgery for such a stupid one that could have waited.
As they gloved up and got their gowns on, she offered with a sigh, “It’s my wife’s initials. We’re both doctors here so no rings at work but this acts as the same.” She felt the weight of the tattoo sitting between her fingers.
“Oh! That’s sweet.” The intern looked taken aback by the honesty and the unexpected gentleness in Dr. Garcia’s voice. “Wait, your wife works here too?”
Before he got an answer, Yolanda was already dishing out orders at him.
Later that day, Yolanda got caught up in a surgery so she sent her intern down to the ED for a consult instead. He was competent enough. As he entered the trauma room, Dr. Santos was asking him to take a look at the injury. She wasn’t wearing a gown or gloves, clearly just stepping in for a moment, but as she pointed at the monitor, the intern caught a quick glimpse of a distinct ‘Y’ in the same location as Yolanda’s ‘T’. His eyes widened so far out of his head that he had to close them for a second. At the pace the ED moved, he had no time to stop and ponder, but he filed it away for later.
When he was headed back upstairs, he saw Dr. Whittaker standing at the desk and decided to try his luck because he knew Santos and Whittaker were friends.
“Hey Dr. Whittaker! I had a quick question, unrelated to work really.” The intern kept his voice neutral.
Whittaker hesitated for a second, “Uh sure okay, shoot.”
“Would you happen to know what Dr. Santos’ ‘Y’ tattoo on her finger stands for?”
Whittaker visibly gaped for a quick moment at the intern’s boldness. Whittaker knew what, rather who, it was for. Aside from Samira, Mel, and Javadi, Emery Walsh was the only other doctor from PTMC at the wedding. They never really announced it but it was not a secret either…right? He was suddenly unsure about whether this marriage was a secret. No, he definitely thought it was not, they wouldn’t do that to each other after they got past the 10 dreaded months of being “casual”. Even then they didn’t try to keep it hidden. Yolanda and Trinity were never ones to hide their affection, trust Whittaker would know. Just to be safe, because he was still petrified of Dr. Garica, he simply said “People have a lot of tattoos, do they ever really mean anything?” and scurried away.
The intern just stood there and decided to try his luck at the board with 4 years and $30. It’s gotta be a long time together to get matching tattoos, he thought.
4.
Trinity had always been spectacularly good at taking care of other people and spectacularly bad at taking care of herself. Paper cuts were ignored until they bled onto patient charts, bruises were discovered days later in the shower, and headaches were met with another cup of coffee and a stubborn insistence that she was "functioning just fine." It drove Yolanda absolutely insane.
Over the years, Yolanda had learnt that asking Trinity if she was okay was almost pointless. The answer would always be yes, even when the answer was very clearly no. So instead, she'd simply appear beside her with an ice pack already wrapped in a towel, painkillers, and a bottle of water shoved into Trinity's hand before she'd even had the chance to refuse. Trinity would roll her eyes every single time, grumbling something about being perfectly capable of looking after herself, but she'd always take them anyway.
Eventually, the rest of their apartment became just as prepared as Yolanda was. A proper first-aid kit found its way into the bathroom cabinet, another into the kitchen, another tucked beneath the passenger seat of the car because, in Yolanda's words, you never know. Trinity teased her relentlessly for it, calling her dramatic, until the day she sliced her palm opening a can and Yolanda had the wound cleaned and bandaged before Trinity had even processed that she'd been cut.
"See?" Yolanda had said smugly.
Trinity just kissed her cheek and muttered, "You're impossible."
Unfortunately for everyone involved, Yolanda's tendency to fuss didn't magically disappear just because they were at work. The ED usually goes from 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye. One moment, Trinity was stuck in triage, escorting an elderly man back to chairs, and the next she was knocked back into the ground with a blow and felt a shard of glass shooting in her direction, wet heat running down her forehead. Lupe and 2 doctors she didn’t see lunged forward to keep her from hitting her head and all she could do was close her eyes as a crimson stream dripped from her chin.
“Come on. I’m fine really.” Trinity didn’t know what all the fuss was about. Well, she knew that it was hospital protocol but she didn’t even hit her head. All it was was a small cut on her forehead. No concussion, no trauma, nothing that serio–
“OW!” Trinity winced as Dr. Robby cleaned the area up slightly.
Okay, maybe a little serious because she wasn’t sure if there were any shards of glass still lodged in her head, and Robby seemed worried about that too. Who the fuck even allowed that drunk to go around flinging his beer bottles and having fistfights in the middle of the ED. Why was PTMC security so bad at their job? Trinity shooed all the doctors and nurses out of the room and told them to get back to work. Only Dr. Robby and a nurse remained.
Whittaker appeared at the door suddenly and sucked in a breath through his teeth as he noted droplets of blood trickling down onto Trinity’s scrubs. “Ooh, that’s gotta hurt.”
“I’m fine. Can we just end this? There are a lot of people out here and we really need to—” Trinity suddenly cut herself off because she felt a deep stinging pain shoot across her temple. Yup, this would definitely need stitches.
Whittaker shuffled closer to her and asked in a low voice, “Should I page Dr. Garcia?”
Trinity didn’t need this to be a bigger fuss than it already was. She could handle it. “No. Do not tell her right now.”
As if Yolanda had a telepathic link to Trinity, which Trinity sometimes wondered if she did, she emerged into the room, pulling the curtain back. For a brief moment, Trinity saw a flash of panic flash through Yolanda. It lasted less than a second. Had Trinity blinked, she would've missed it entirely, but she'd spent years memorizing every tiny shift in Yolanda's expression. She knew exactly what genuine worry looked like. Yolanda brought her palm up to rest on Trinity’s shoulder and she leaned down towards her face. Trinity’s breath hitched for a moment at this new closeness, audibly too, how embarrassing.
“What happened, Trin.” Yolanda held Trinity’s gaze with a look so sincere, Trinity forgot all about the pricking pain in her forehead. Robby paused because no one has ever called Dr. Santos “Trin.”
Trinity tried to downplay it for a second but something about the way Yolanda was looking at her, like she was the most precious thing in the world, yanked the truth right off Trinity’s tongue.
“It kinda hurts a lot. And I’m concerned it’s bleeding too much.” Trinity admitted.
Yolanda’s face softened and she nodded once, sure and firm. “Let me fix that up for you, huh?” Her voice was so tender, Whittaker had to clear his throat awkwardly to remind them that there are other people in the room right now.
Yolanda straightened up, but she did not remove her hand from Trinity’s shoulder. Immediately, she looked at the nurse, someone new she didn’t recognise, a student nurse. Great, she thought. She would handle this herself, anyway.
“Alright. Set me up a suture tray and bring some acetaminophen, not naproxen because it makes her nauseous. No need for a tetanus shot, she’s up to date with hers, and make sure there’s no penicillin in the chart.” Yolanda kept her voice calm as she ordered the nurse.
The nurse paused, suddenly caught off guard, “How do you know all that…”
Yolanda tipped her head forward and looked at the nurse like he had just asked the world’s stupidest question, “I’m her emergency contact.”
Dr. Robby looks between them, “Yeah, but you knew all of that?”
Whittaker suddenly finds the ceiling very interesting.
Yolanda looks exasperated, “Well, I’d be a pretty bad doctor if I didn’t remember the important things.” She was gloving up but Robby interjected, not missing the way Trinity blushed at her comment.
“Um, Dr. Garcia I don’t think you should be the one to suture Dr. Santos. I’m sure Dr. Whittaker can handle it.” Whittaker yelped and just exited the room because he knew Garcia would not have a good reaction coming.
Yolanda stood up from the stool in front of Trinity and gave Dr. Robby a stony look. She took in a quick breath as she lifted her chin up and said, in a tone so measured, “Don’t try me on this, Rabbit-bitch. You know I don’t trust anyone but myself to do the stitches.”
Trinity thought about saying that it’s okay, someone else can handle it, but in reality, she really didn’t trust anyone either. The ED was full of very competent doctors, but she knew that no one could do it as well as Yolanda.
Robby put his arms up in surrender. “Alright. But I’m staying to supervise this.”
Yolanda scoffed, “I do not need supervision. This is my job. Stop fucking hovering and go pull your weight out there.”
Despite her efforts, Robby stayed.
Yolanda just rolled her eyes but she didn’t look at Robby again. Trinity was her top, and only, priority right now. Yolanda had done this a billion times, but something about the patient being her wife made her slightly nervous. This is what Robby was talking about. She was not about to prove him right so she steadied herself and worked through the procedure very clinically, taking it one step at a time.
Yolanda pulled the stool closer and gently tilted Trinity's chin up, studying the cut with careful eyes. "This is going to sting."
"I know." Trinity squeezed her eyes shut.
"No.” Yolanda's voice softened. "Look at me."
Trinity did without hesitation. Yolanda rested one hand lightly against the side of Trinity's neck to steady her before bringing the anesthetic to the wound. The needle barely pierced her skin before Trinity flinched, her face pinching with pain.
Instinctively, Trinity reached out. Her fingers found Yolanda's free hand without looking. Yolanda threaded their fingers together just as automatically, her thumb beginning slow, absent circles over the back of Trinity's hand.
"There you go," she murmured. "Just keep looking at me. Breathe."
Trinity's shoulders gradually loosened. Her breathing evened out, her attention fixed solely on Yolanda's eyes instead of the needle near her forehead.
Neither of them seemed to realize they were still holding hands. The nurse and Robby certainly did, though.
The student nurse looked up from the suture tray, blinking once before glancing at Dr. Robby.
Robby's brows had climbed nearly to his hairline. "...Huh."
The nurse looked back at the pair, then leaned toward Robby. "Are they family?"
Robby watched as Yolanda continued rubbing soothing circles over Trinity's knuckles without ever breaking eye contact as they waited for the anesthetic to kick in.
"...No."
A beat.
"Not in the way we’re thinking at least."
When it was all done, Robby examined the stitches once and offered a small hum of approval; Yolanda only flipped him off.
Trinity noticed the way Yolanda’s hands were shaking slightly as she tossed her gloves and took in a deep breath. Trinity took Yolanda’s wrist in her hands and whispered, "You did good, Yola.” Instant relief broke across Yolanda’s face as she realised Trinity was in fact okay.
"Right...Come on." Robby grabbed the chart and signalled to the nurse.
The nurse didn’t move. "I need to write down some vitals."
Robby quietly says, "It’s fine, I’m sure Yo-Yo here will commit them to memory."
They leave, Robby closing the curtain behind them.
As soon as they’re outside, the nurse basically gawks at Robby. “What was that?”
Robby said he was too old to indulge in betting boards but after that interaction, he advised the nurse to put down $20 for 2 years.
5.
One of the few things Trinity and Yolanda actually disagreed on during wedding planning was what to do with their surnames. Trinity wanted Yolanda to keep Garcia. It was the name attached to every paper she'd ever published, every award she'd earned, every patient who specifically requested Dr. Garcia because of the reputation she'd built. Yolanda argued exactly the same thing about Santos. Neither of them wanted the other to feel like they had to give up a part of themselves just because they got married.
Eventually, after an hour-long discussion that somehow spiralled into something else completely, ifykwim, they settled on a compromise neither of them had considered at first. Trinity would become Dr. Trinity Garcia-Santos, while Yolanda would become Dr. Yolanda Santos-Garcia. They liked the symmetry of it, and liked being a part of each other. The paperwork to change it had been an absolute nightmare, but eventually every licence, credential and hospital record reflected their new names.
Unfortunately, neither of them considered just how many forms they signed every single day. The novelty wore off surprisingly quickly. Within a few weeks, both of them signed their new surnames without thinking, barely glancing at the page before shoving the next chart across the desk. Somewhere between consult requests and discharge summaries, Garcia-Santos and Santos-Garcia simply became muscle memory.
After a twelve-car pile-up on the highway left the ED overflowing well into the night, both the morning and night shifts stayed back to tackle the mountain of paperwork the disaster generated. By the time the last patient had been admitted, transferred, or discharged, everyone was operating almost entirely on caffeine and muscle memory.
Dr. Ellis was sorting the remaining charts into neat piles when she paused.
Signed Dr. Trinity Garcia-Santos.
She frowned, exhaustion already settled deep into her bones. "What"
PTMC's electronic records system had never exactly been a masterpiece of modern technology. It crashed twice a week, duplicated patient charts for fun, and once somehow assigned the Chief of Surgery to paediatrics for three days before anyone noticed. Ellis shrugged, assuming it had mashed together Trinity Santos and Yolanda Garcia somehow, and kept filing.
A few charts later she stopped again.
Signed Dr. Yolanda Santos-Garcia.
Ellis stared. "...No."
She picked up the first form again. Then the second.
"...What?"
Ellis suddenly tells Abbot who was sitting across from her but he insists, "You're reading it wrong."
"I'm not. Look." She holds the page up but Abbot swats it away, too consumed by his own pile of paperwork.
"You've been here sixteen hours. You’re tired."
The burnout hit her all at once. "...Fair."
Three days later, Dr. Abbott was reviewing consult notes when he paused at the signature line.
Dr. Trinity Garcia-Santos.
He blinked once. Then another chart landed on his desk.
Dr. Yolanda Santos-Garcia.
Abbott frowned. "...Didn't Ellis mention this the other day?"
The nurse beside him nodded. "Yeah. We thought it was a system error."
Abbott held the two forms side by side. "It can't be, though. If it were a typo, it'd be fixed by now."
Over the next few days, the signatures became something of a hospital scavenger hunt. Someone from Radiology swore they'd seen Garcia-Santos on a consult request. A nurse from the ICU claimed she'd seen both names on paperwork from the same patient. Soon enough, every time someone stumbled across a chart signed by either doctor, they'd pause for a second, squint at the signature, and call over the nearest coworker.
No one could explain it.
People asked attendings who had worked with Yolanda for years. They asked nurses who had known Trinity since residency. Someone even cornered Whittaker in the hallway, hoping that being Trinity's friend would finally produce an answer, but no one could answer the question dancing on the tip of everyone’s tongues.
By the end of the week, half the hospital had been consulted. Everyone, that is, except Dr. Trinity (Garcia?) Santos and Dr. Yolanda (Santos?) Garcia. For reasons no one could quite explain, asking the two women directly somehow felt... awkward. Neither of the women had a reputation for being upfront and honest about their personal lives.
Abbott, however, had grown tired of speculation. He wasn't normally one to entertain hospital gossip, but unfortunately, this had stopped feeling like gossip somewhere around the fifth consult note. By Thursday afternoon, Abbot had started checking signatures before he read the actual charts. He said he was above gossip but he wasn’t above making a quick buck. This was too consistent to strike him as a coincidence or mistake, so Ellis and he decided to put down $50 each for 2.5 years and then split their winnings.
+1
Abbot stood in front of the elevator when the doors slid open to reveal an HR representative. The employee nodded at Abbot and walked past him but Abbot trailed behind, determined to get this sorted because if anyone knew the answer, it was HR.
The ED was unusually q-word for once. Not empty, PTMC was never empty, but slow enough that everyone had settled into the comfortable rhythm of charting, updating notes, and pretending not to eavesdrop on each other's conversations.
The HR representative walked over to the workstations with a clipboard tucked against her chest. "Dr. Garcia? Dr. Santos?"
Neither of them looked up immediately. Yolanda finished signing a discharge order before turning around. Trinity looked up from the workstation beside her.
"Hi," the representative smiled. "Sorry to interrupt. I just need both spouses to sign this updated benefits form for confirmation." She flipped to the last page and held out the clipboard.
Silence.
Trinity took the clipboard first, signed without a word, and held it out for Yolanda who signed beneath her name just as casually and handed it back.
"Perfect. Thank you!" The representative disappeared back toward the elevators.
The ED remained completely silent. Finally, Robby broke it. "...Spouses?"
Trinity looked over at Yolanda. Yolanda looked back at Trinity. A small smirk spread across Yolanda’s face. Then she gave the smallest shrug. "...Yeah."
Another beat.
Abbot blinked. "...You guys are married?"
Trinity looked genuinely confused "...You didn't know?"
A chorus of stunned silence answered her.
"We thought it was pretty obvious." Yolanda frowned slightly.
No one said anything. Neither of them elaborated. Because it suddenly was obvious.
"Wait does this mean we get all the money from the betting board?" Trinity laughed.
Ahmad looked horrified "You knew??"
Yolanda suddenly offers, "For the record, all of you were wrong. The board was betting how long we've been dating. But we're married. So technically we win. Pay up suckers."
Yolanda just picked up the next chart on the pile. Trinity reached for the phone to return a consult. This time, everyone witnessed the quick smile they gave each other, warm and soft, reserved solely for the other. Within seconds, they had slipped seamlessly back into work.
Behind them, the entire emergency department collectively forgot how to function.
It was never just one thing. It was the way they constantly drifted back toward each other in every room, genuinely orbiting one another. It was every fleeting glance exchanged across a trauma bay, every absent slide of a hand against the other's waist as they squeezed past one another, every cup of coffee that somehow appeared before the other had even realized they wanted one. It was Yolanda instinctively looking for Trinity the moment she stepped into the ED, and Trinity unconsciously relaxing the second she caught sight of Yolanda. It was a hundred tiny gestures, each insignificant on its own, but together so glaringly obvious that everyone wondered how they'd managed to miss them for so long.
Looking back, none of it had ever been subtle. They had simply never thought to hide the way they loved each other. Once the pieces finally fell into place, the entire picture became impossible to unsee. From then on, every smile, every knowing look, every effortless touch only made the rest of the ED wonder how they had ever convinced themselves that Dr. Santos-Garcia and Dr. Garcia-Santos were anything other than hopelessly, unmistakably in love. They had always been obvious.
Bonus - the ones who knew without having to be told.
Dana had been running the ED long enough to know that the department thrived on gossip but survived on observation. She noticed everything, usually long before anyone else did. She saw Dr. Garcia change in tiny, almost imperceptible ways over the years. Not publicly, Yolanda was still every bit as intimidating, sharp-tongued, and impossible to impress, but whenever Trinity wandered into the room, something about her softened. It was in the way she'd already have a bagel waiting before the younger doctor could ask, or how she'd quietly steer the most difficult consults away from Trinity after she'd already worked twelve hours straight, pretending it was simply because she "wanted the case." Dana also happened to notice that one weekend, Drs. Garcia and Santos both requested the exact same days off. Coincidentally, so did the pittlings and one Emery Walsh, famous for never taking time off. When they all returned on Monday, exhausted but glowing in a way that had nothing to do with sleep, Dana simply smiled to herself. She never asked any questions. She already knew the answer.
Princess and Perlah liked to joke that they were Trinity's mothers at work, though nobody ever really questioned it because they acted the part so naturally. From the moment Trinity joined the ED, they made it their personal mission to ensure she ate something other than vending machine snacks and stale coffee. For the first 2 weeks, they worked it into their routine to pack an extra lunch for Santos. Then, one afternoon, Dr. Garcia quietly wandered into the nurses' station carrying a notepad and asked if either of them would be willing to share the recipes for Trinity's favorite Filipino dishes. After that, the lunches from Princess and Perlah became less frequent because someone else had taken over the job. They watched Yolanda arrive every shift carrying two lunch boxes without fail, and every Monday morning Trinity would excitedly tell them about the incredible Filipino meal she'd had over the weekend, things she never learned to cook herself because they were too complicated. She'd gush about how authentic it tasted, insisting it was the best she'd had since her Lola's cooking, quickly correcting herself to say, "Well... after you two, of course." She never once mentioned who had cooked it. Princess and Perlah never asked. They didn’t need to.
Dr. Langdon had known Yolanda since medical school. He remembered every fleeting crush she'd ever sworn was definitely not a crush, remembered how she'd stubbornly deny it while blushing every time someone brought the person up. Trinity, however, was different from the very beginning. There was no uncertainty to it, no awkwardness, no hesitancy. Just a quiet surety that seemed to settle into Yolanda the longer she knew her. After the incident with Trinity, Langdon found himself apologizing to Yolanda far more than he ever apologized to Trinity herself because, for some reason, Yolanda took it worse. He watched her praise Trinity's clinical instincts with a pride that bordered on reverence, watched her eyes soften every time Trinity laughed at one of her dry jokes, watched her unconsciously seek Trinity out the moment she entered a room. Langdon had seen Yolanda infatuated before and this wasn't it. This was the kind of love that quietly settled into every corner of a person's life until it became impossible to separate them from it. He never needed anyone to tell him they were married. Frankly, he'd been wondering what had taken everyone else so long.