Ch 18

The first day at Mount Sinai loomed ahead, but my mind kept wandering to the same gnawing frustration I'd carried for months: my last name. De Torre. Three syllables that felt heavier than any title, any white coat, any accolade I could earn.

I flopped onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. "Honey... sometimes I swear I'd be better off just taking my mother's name," I muttered, voice muffled. "Laurente. Quiet, somehow. But no baggage, no expectations. Just... me."

Lea collapsed beside me, smirking. "Or," she said with a wink, "you could just marry me, hon. That way, you'd be a Salonga instead of a De Torre. Problem solved."

I froze mid-sigh, lifting my head to stare at her. "Wait... what?"

Lea shrugged, grin widening. "I mean, we're basically already soulmates, right? A little courthouse action, and voilà — no more De Torre drama. Just pure, uncomplicated us."

I blinked. For a moment, I wasn't sure if she was joking... and then I realized she wasn't entirely. My lips curved into a sly grin. "Honey... you'd really whisk me away like that? Just... sweep me off my feet and into marriage?"

Lea laughed, the sound warm and teasing. "I might, hon. But you'll just have to wait and not worry. Because eventually? It's happening."

I leaned back against the couch, smirking at her, heart fluttering in a mix of amusement and affection. "Well, honey... I suppose I'll let you. You do have a way of making ridiculous ideas sound... inevitable."

She nudged me playfully. "Of course, hon. That's my specialty. Ridiculous ideas, delivered with charm."

I shook my head, laughing softly. "Honey, you're infuriating and amazing all at once. But I... I wouldn't have it any other way."

Lea brushed a strand of hair from my face, her smile gentle. "And you, hon, get to live with me, laugh with me, and... eventually, be my legally-claimed wife. That's the plan."

I pressed my forehead to hers, the weight of my worries finally lifting. "Well, honey... I'm ready to be whisked away whenever you are."

She laughed again, the sound filling the apartment. "Patience, hon. All in due time. Trust me — it's going to be worth the wait."

And for the first time in months, I felt entirely free.

By the time I arrived at Mount Sinai, my nerves had settled into a focused excitement. The hospital was alive with motion — nurses moving with swift precision, doctors exchanging rapid-fire instructions, the rhythmic beeps of monitors. My first patient was a challenge, but I felt a surge of confidence guiding my hands. Each interaction reminded me that this was my work, earned and deserved, and not just a reflection of my last name.

Throughout the day, I ran into a few familiar moments of irritation: someone quietly referencing my family, a subtle hint that my past was being weighed alongside my skills. But I reminded myself — I was here on my own merits. My accomplishments. My dedication. My passion.

By the time I stepped out of the hospital and onto the bustling New York streets, exhaustion and exhilaration mingling, my phone buzzed. A message from Lea: How was my favorite doctor's first day, hon?

I smiled, typing back quickly: Exhausting, nerve-wracking... but worth it. Can I come home now? Need my honey.

Within minutes, she was waiting for me at the apartment, arms open. I sank into her embrace, letting the tension of the day melt away.

"Tell me everything, hon," she said, guiding me to the couch. "And don't leave out the drama."

I laughed, leaning my head against her shoulder. "Well, honey, there was the usual De Torre commentary. A few eyes rolling, a few hushed whispers. But overall... it was fine. I managed. I survived. And somehow, I didn't mess anything up too badly."

She kissed the top of my head, grinning. "See? You were amazing, hon. I already knew that. And now, you've survived the New York crucible. I'm proud of you."

I rested my hand over hers. "Honey... I can't tell you how much it means to have you here. I could handle the job alone, yes, but having you... makes it so much easier. And even fun."

Lea laughed, nudging me playfully. "Hon, I'm basically your secret weapon. And let's be honest — anyone who messes with you now has to get through me first."

I smiled, the warmth of her presence filling the apartment. "Honey... I think I could get used to this. The job, the city, the chaos... as long as you're here."

"And I'll always be here, hon," she said softly, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Cheering you on, laughing at your quirks, and keeping you grounded. Just... keep surviving first shifts, okay?"

I laughed again, letting the comfort of home and her unwavering support wrap around me. For the first time since leaving Houston, I felt like I belonged somewhere — professionally, personally, and most importantly, with her.