At the Club
The dim lights of the club cast a warm glow over the polished wooden bar. Soft jazz music hummed in the background, blending with the murmur of conversations. Wilson sat on one of the leather stools, fingers lightly drumming against her glass of whiskey.
Beside her, Emily swirled the straw in her cocktail, watching Wilson carefully. "It's been a while since we did this."
Wilson exhaled through her nose, not quite looking at her. "Yeah. It has."
Emily leaned in slightly. "Do you ever let loose anymore?"
Wilson smirked, taking a sip of her drink. "I'm here, aren't I?"
Emily chuckled, the sound laced with something softer, almost nostalgic. "Fair enough." She lifted her glass, clinking it against Wilson's. "To... second chances?"
Wilson's smirk faded, her grip tightening around her whiskey glass. She wasn't sure she believed in second chances—not with Emily.
But for tonight, she let it slide.
She pulled out her phone, snapped a quick photo of the club's neon lights reflecting in her drink, and uploaded it to Instagram with a simple caption:
"Breaking the routine. #NightOut"
She ignored the way Emily smiled at the screen like she knew exactly what Wilson was trying to do.
Back at the Hospital
Damien helped Stella back to her bed, tucking the blanket around her. "Get some rest, okay?"
Stella nodded absentmindedly, already reaching for her phone.
"Goodnight, Stella."
"Mhm… night."
The moment Damien left, she jumped right back on Instagram.
Her fingers moved swiftly, pulling up the account she had found earlier.
Something felt off.
The pictures were all reposts. The captions were… too polished, too impersonal.
Then she saw it—the account was just a fan page.
Her heart skipped.
Her brows furrowed as she tapped the tagged posts, scrolling through until she found the real Wilson.
@DrEllahWilson
Verified. 3.2 million followers.
And unlike the fan page, this one was real.
Stella's breath caught.
The photos weren't just professional. They were… personal.
There were pictures of Wilson in surgery, candid moments with colleagues, family outings—Wilson holding a baby…
A baby?
Stella stared at the image of Wilson at what looked like a park, holding an infant in her arms while her family surrounded her.
She didn't even realize she was holding her breath.
Then—a new post appeared.
A fresh update.
Stella clicked on it immediately.
A picture of a whiskey glass, the club's dim lighting reflected in the liquid.
Caption: "Breaking the routine. #NightOut"
She's out. Drinking. With who?
Stella bit her lip.
She shouldn't care.
She didn't care.
…Did she?
Her fingers hovered over the follow button.
Then, before she could think twice, she tapped it.
UNEXPECTED TENSION AT THE BAR
Emily tilted her head, watching Wilson with curious eyes. "You don't strike me as the kind of person who posts on social media."
Wilson shrugged, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. "People assume a lot of things about me."
Emily smirked, resting her chin on her hand. "Like what?"
Wilson glanced at her, expression unreadable. "That I don't have a life outside of the hospital."
Emily let out a small laugh. "Well, do you?"
Wilson took a slow sip of her whiskey before answering. "Not really. But I'm trying."
Emily leaned in slightly, her voice softer now. "Good. Because I like this version of you—outside of work, in a bar… with me."
Wilson arched an eyebrow. "That almost sounds like flirting."
Emily chuckled. "Relax, it's just drinks, remember? Just two old friends catching up."
Wilson hummed, unconvinced. Emily had promised nothing more, yet the way she kept looking at Wilson—the way her fingers occasionally traced the rim of her glass or drifted close to Wilson's without quite touching—felt like anything but casual.
Wilson didn't respond immediately. Instead, she tapped her fingers against the side of her glass, her mind drifting—not to Emily, but to Stella.
Was she still awake? Has Damien finally left her?
A gentle touch at her wrist pulled Wilson back to the present. It was barely there, just Emily's fingertips brushing against her skin before pulling away, but it lingered all the same.
"You seem lost in thought," Emily murmured. "Am I boring you already?"
Wilson looked at her, forcing a small smirk. "Not at all."
Emily studied her for a moment, then pulled out her phone. "Let's take a picture together."
Wilson hesitated. "Why?"
Emily laughed, tilting her head. "Because I want proof that the great Dr. Wilson actually went out for drinks."
Before Wilson could refuse, Emily leaned in close, her shoulder brushing against Wilson's, holding her phone up and snapping a quick selfie.
She looked at the image and smiled. "You look good."
Wilson glanced at the screen. The photo showed her looking effortlessly composed, her usual serious expression softened by the dim lighting. Emily, on the other hand, was all bright smiles and something else—something unspoken, lingering in the way she tilted toward Wilson.
She hesitated for a second, then typed a quick caption and uploaded it.
"Drinks with the most intriguing company. #GoodVibes"
Wilson shook her head slightly, amused. "You don't waste time, do you?"
Emily smirked, tucking her phone away. "Not when I see something I want."
Wilson gave her a look, but Emily only sipped her drink, as if she hadn't just said something loaded with meaning.
Wilson didn't react—at least, not outwardly. But she couldn't shake the feeling that someone else might see this post