chapter 3

 

The morning sun felt entirely too bright, filtering through the lace curtains of her parents’ kitchen and casting warm, domestic geometric patterns across the wooden table. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and frying eggs usually brought Yolande a sense of comfort, a reminder of a time when life was simple and predictable, but today, the aroma made her stomach twist in a tight, nervous knot. She sat quietly, tracing the rim of her porcelain mug with her thumb, watching her mother move efficiently between the stove and the counter while her father sat opposite her, reading the morning paper.

"You're quiet today, Yo," her father noted, setting the paper down and looking at her over the rim of his reading glasses, his brow furrowing with gentle concern. "Tough shift last night? You look like you didn't sleep a wink."

Yolande swallowed hard, taking a slow breath to steady the sudden tremor in her hands. "I didn't, actually, dad, mom, can you sit down for a second, I need to tell you both something."

Her mother paused, wiping her hands on a dish towel before walking over to the table, her eyes scanning her daughter's face with that innate maternal instinct that always picked up on hidden grief. She sat down next to her husband, reaching across the table to place her hand over Yolande's cold fingers. "What is it, sweetheart? Is everything okay at the hospital?"

"I'm resigning," Yolande said, the words rushing out of her before she could lose her nerve, the sudden declaration hanging heavily in the quiet air of the kitchen. "I want to resign from St. Jude’s, and I want to go back to school to study something else."

Her parents exchanged a bewildered, worried glance, the silence stretching out between them until her mother broke it, her voice filled with gentle confusion. "Resign? But, Yolande, why? You worked so hard for your nursing certification, you always told us how much you wanted to be in medicine, how much you wanted to help people at the hospital."

Yolande looked down at her coffee, watching the dark liquid swirl, a sad, bitter smile touching the corners of her lips. "That's the thing, mom, I didn't want to be a nurse, medicine was always Don's dream, not mine, he was the one who was obsessed with the hospital, the anatomy, the surgeries, and because we were together since high school, I just... I wrapped my entire identity around his world, I chose nursing because it meant I could be close to him, because it meant we could build a life in the same building, speaking the same language."

Her father leaned forward, his expression softening as he listened to the raw honesty in her voice. "And what about your own dream, Yo? What is it that you actually want to do?"

"I wanted to be a lawyer," she whispered, the truth feeling incredibly fragile yet immensely heavy now that it was out in the open. "I always wanted to study law, before I let myself get swept up in Don's ambitions, I wanted to fight for people in a courtroom, not a hospital ward, I want to go back to school and do this for myself, because if I stay at that hospital, I am going to completely lose whatever is left of me."

Her mother looked at her husband, a quiet understanding passing between them, before she squeezed Yolande's hand tightly. "If medicine isn't your passion, Yolande, then you shouldn't spend another day sacrificing your happiness for it, we want you to be fulfilled, we want you to live a life that belongs to you, not to Don."

"Your mother is right," her father agreed, his voice firm and supportive, a steady anchor in the storm of her uncertainty. "If law school is where your heart is, then you have our full support, you've spent ten years supporting everyone else's dreams, it is about time you started living your own."

The relief that washed over her was so intense it made her eyes sting with unshed tears, she thanked them, holding onto their encouragement like a shield as she left the house and drove toward St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital, knowing that the hardest part of her day was still ahead of her.

The hospital cafeteria during the lunch rush was a chaotic symphony of clattering trays, overhead pages, and the low, exhausted murmur of medical staff. Yolande stood near the entrance, her eyes scanning the crowded room until she spotted Don sitting at a corner table, a half-eaten sandwich in front of him, his eyes glued to his tablet. He looked up as she approached, his expression instantly hardening, the warmth he usually reserved for his colleagues completely absent.

"Where the hell did you disappear to yesterday?" Don demanded before she could even slide into the plastic chair across from him, his voice low but sharp with irritation. "Maria and I waited at the restaurant for twenty minutes, I called you three times, Yolande, you left us standing there like idiots, acting like a spoiled child because a friend tagged along for lunch."

Yolande didn't interrupt, she just sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, watching him with a calm, detached serenity that seemed to irritate him even further. She noticed how his brow furrowed, how his tone carried the heavy weight of an accusation, treating her emotional withdrawal as a mere inconvenience to his busy schedule.

"We are adults, Yolande, we work in a high-stress environment, and I don't have the time or the energy to play these passive-aggressive high school games," Don continued, leaning forward, his jaw tight. "Maria felt incredibly guilty, she thought she ruined our afternoon, and I had to spend half my shift reassuring her because you decided to throw a tantrum and walk away without a word."

He paused, clearly expecting her to apologize, to offer an excuse, to play the role of the submissive, understanding girlfriend who would promise to do better next time.

Instead, Yolande just looked at him, really looked at him, noticing how the boy she had loved for ten years had completely vanished, replaced by a man who couldn't see past his own ego and the sterile walls of his profession.

"Are you done?" she asked, her voice steady, cool, and entirely devoid of the anger he was trying to provoke.

Don blinked, thrown off by her lack of emotion. "Yeah, I'm done, I just hope you realize how ridiculous you were being."

"I want a break up, Don," she said, the words falling between them on the laminate table, clean and sharp as a scalpel.

Don froze, his hand hovering over his tablet, his eyes widening in complete disbelief. "What? What are you talking about? A break up? Because of a missed lunch date? Yolande, don't be dramatic."