Chapter 18: Chapter 18. Will She Understand?

The scent of Rayleigh's distinctive perfume enveloped Isabelle as soon as she walked through the door of her apartment in Bangkok, Thailand. The rich, leathery notes of YSL Cuir clung to the air, a tantalizing blend of woody oud and unexpected floral softness.

Isabelle inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar aroma that evoked such powerful memories. It was as if Rayleigh's presence had been frozen in time, a ghostly reminder of the warmth and affection they had shared just days ago.

Clutching her bags, Isabelle made her way to the living room, her steps heavy with the weight of Rayleigh's absence. As she flopped down onto the sofa, she couldn't help but feel the overwhelming emptiness that had settled into her once-vibrant home. For Isabelle, home is always her safe haven from the world, but after Rayleigh forced her way into her life, her house is no longer the same place she remembered before Rayleigh entered her life.

Just a few days ago, Rayleigh had been sitting right beside her, munching on a burger with elegance. Her iPad had been balanced on her lap, her keen eyes scanning the screen as Mona chattered away, oblivious to the fact that no one was barely listening.

Isabelle smiled at the recollection, her heart swelling with bittersweet longing. She had been so engrossed in Rayleigh's every move, her eyes drawn to the woman she adored like a moth to a flame. Even as Mona's voice had filled the room, Isabelle's attention had been fixed solely on Rayleigh, drinking in every detail of her expression, her gestures, and the way her lips curled into that irresistible smile.

Isabelle still remembers the last TV show on that day because the TV had been left unattended that day, its flickering screen forgotten as Isabelle had lost herself in the presence of her girlfriend. Rayleigh, meanwhile, had been deep in conversation with Tamara, the nurse in charge, and her assistant, her voice lilting and her words measured, as if she were talking about a delicate surgical procedure and the patient's last condition. Mona continued to talk, seemingly unaware of the fact that she was the only one in the room truly engaged in the discussion.

As Isabelle lay on the sofa, the aroma of Rayleigh's perfume engulfed her like a warm embrace. She felt a deep sense of longing. She understood that the distance between them was just temporary, an event in the wonderful stages of their lives.

"I'll be back in your arms soon, my love," Isabelle whispered into the silence, her voice barely audible. "You're mine, Rayleigh MacKenzie."

She wanted to call Rayleigh, but she remembered that her girlfriend had surgery in an hour. She has spent quite a lot of money to use the wifi services on board, just to call Rayleigh. And so Isabelle decided to text her girlfriend about her already getting home and going to sleep, knowing Rayleigh would not reply to her immediately.

In New York, at Weill Cornell Medical Center, Rayleigh just finished her three-hour surgery. Her scrubs are still stained with the remnants of her latest procedure. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on her brow, a proof of the intensity and focus she had poured into the surgery.

A fourteen-year-old boy had his arm broken due to a fall caused by skateboarding without safety. The boy is safe now; the family will just need to wait for him to awaken after the anesthesia's effect wears off.

As Rayleigh stepped into the hallway, she was immediately met with the stern gaze of Lauren. She has been trying to get in touch with Rayleigh for the past four days. But the latter was so busy and always quick to go home. The old Rayleigh loved to stay longer in the hospital at her office, just spending time until she felt it was necessary to go home.

Rayleigh continued walking away without so much as a glance at Lauren. "What do you want, Laur?" she said, her tone flat and disinterested.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'what am I doing'?" Lauren nearly shouted, her voice laced with anger and desperation. "What are you doing?"

Rayleigh stopped in her tracks, turning to face Lauren with a cold, hard stare. "I just finished a surgery," she said, her words clipped and emotionless. "I'm going to check my phone and then go home."

Lauren's eyes narrowed, her lips twisting into a sneer. "Are we not going to talk about that bitch you brought from Thailand?" she spat.

The moment the derogatory term left Lauren's lips, Rayleigh felt a surge of rage coursing through her veins. She whirled around, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Her name is Rose Isabelle," she growled, her voice low and menacing, "and she is my girlfriend. Don't you ever speak of her that way again, you hear me?"

Lauren recoiled, taken aback by the intensity of Rayleigh's reaction. "But, Ray," she stammered, "what about me? What are we?"

Rayleigh shook her head, her expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "I can't believe you graduated as a pediatrician when you can't even comprehend a simple thing," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "We are done, Lauren Thompson. We've been done for a long time. We broke up! There's nothing between us; I don't even consider you a friend!" words echoed through the hospital's hallway, commanding the attention of passing staff and visitors. Lauren's eyes welled with tears, her lower lip trembling.

"No, Ray, please," she pleaded. "We have something special. I'm the only woman you've ever allowed into your apartment, right?"

Rayleigh's eyes narrowed, her nostrils flaring in anger. "You stalked me," she spat. "Fuck, I'm tired of dealing with you and your antics. It was all because I don't have to waste my time cleaning or hiring cleaning services! So, I let you do that in the past. I have Isabelle now, and I'm moving my apartment, and if you try to stalk me again, I'll get a restraining order against you. Do you understand?"

Lauren's face crumpled, and the tears were now streaming freely down her cheeks. "What? You can't be serious, Ray," she cried.

Rayleigh's expression hardened; her voice was firm and unwavering. "I am dead serious," she said. "Don't try to find out where I live or what I do. If you do, I'll get that restraining order. Understand?"

"Ray!" Lauren opened her mouth to protest, but Rayleigh had already turned her back and continued walking away, leaving the distraught woman.

The hallway surrounding the operating room had grown eerily quiet, save for the sound of Lauren's anguished sobs. A few doctors and nurses, who had been hovering in the vicinity, exchanged sympathetic glances, their expressions a mix of pity and discomfort.

They all knew the backstory: Lauren has been very protective and possessive for Rayleigh over the years, and they knew that the beautiful surgeon has always told everyone that Lauren is not her girlfriend; she's just someone who loves to clean her apartment for Rayleigh.

And today, seeing Rayleigh say those words so strongly and clearly was a frightening experience for everyone who watched the conversation. Rayleigh's tone was firm, hitting through Lauren's misunderstandings after so many years.

One of the nurses, a seasoned veteran who had seen her fair share of hospital drama, shook her head and muttered, "Damn, she killed her with that."

Another, a young intern still navigating the complexities of interpersonal relationships, chimed in, "You think Dr. Lauren is going to believe that?"

The senior nurse scoffed, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Bet me," she replied.

Suddenly, the rest of the gathered medical staff sprung into action, eagerly pulling out their wallets and digging for cash. A flurry of hushed conversations and the sound of bills changing hands filled the air as they placed their bets.

"Twenty bucks says she's not going to understand," one of the younger nurses declared, her eyes glinting with a mischievous gleam.

"Thirty says she will," a senior internist chimed in, his voice filled with certainty.

"Alright, alright, let me grab a notebook," a shrewd-looking orderly interjected, already scribbling down the wagers. "We need to keep track of this."