Possessively Mine

Her Only Friend

Lilia’s day began early, as usual. The morning chill nipped at her cheeks as she waited at the bus stop, the sky still painted in soft pastels of dawn. Her journey to med school required two bus transfers and nearly twenty minutes of travel, but she never minded. It was her quiet time. Time to think, revise flashcards, or simply watch the city slowly wake up through the window.

By the time she reached campus, the sun had fully risen. The medical college stood like a quiet fortress of ambition, its glass-and-concrete buildings reflecting both light and pressure, expectations of students who dreamt of saving lives of many.

Lilia walked straight to the canteen, her shoes tapping lightly against the tiled corridor floors. The scent of hot coffee, buttered toast, and croissants filled the air as the space buzzed with sleepy chatter and hurried footsteps. She spotted Judy sitting at their usual corner table, waving a hand animatedly at someone before turning toward Lilia with a bright grin.

“Hey, you’re late,” Judy teased, pulling out a chair for her.

“I’m early,” Lilia corrected gently, her lips twitching into a soft smile. “You’re just too early.”

Judy laughed loud, carefree, the kind of laugh that made people turn and smile even if they didn’t know the joke. She was everything Lilia wasn’t: bold, bubbly, and unapologetically loud. Where Lilia preferred silence, Judy filled every space with energy. And yet, they had been inseparable since the first day of medical school.

Back then, Lilia had been painfully shy. New city, new people, unfamiliar faces in white coats and everything felt overwhelming. To make things worse, some seniors had taken a liking to harmless teasing, which to Lilia felt anything but harmless. That was when Judy stepped in as an unexpected knight in floral scrubs. She had stood up for Lilia with the confidence of someone who’d done it a hundred times before, and somehow, a friendship was born.

Over the years, Judy remained Lilia’s constant and her only real friend. They were complete opposites, yet fit together like a puzzle pieces that somehow made sense.

Lilia sipped her tea, listening to Judy go on about some intern who forgot to remove a stethoscope before walking into the MRI room. Lilia chuckled softly, but her mind was elsewhere.

It was her final semester. The end of an exhausting yet fulfilling journey. Clinical rotations had pushed her beyond her limits, and the countless exams, sleepless nights, and endless anatomy dissections all pointed to one thing. That is her dream. She wanted to become a cardiothoracic surgeon. Not just wanted and she needed it. There was something deeply compelling about the human heart: its rhythm, its fragility, its strength.

She had taken every elective she could related to cardiology and surgery. Her academic record was excellent. Professors had noticed her dedication, and her name often came up during clinical discussions. But what she wanted now was the chance to prove herself at Montelure Heart & Surgical Center—MHSC—one of the most prestigious hospitals in the city. Advanced equipment, elite surgeons, groundbreaking procedures. it was everything she aspired to be a part of.

She had applied for a residency rotation there, and while competition was fierce, her scores gave her hope. Still, doubt lingered. What if it wasn’t enough?

“Hey,” Judy nudged her, pulling her out of her thoughts. “You spaced out again. Thinking about Montelure?”

Lilia nodded. “I just… really want it. I don’t want to end up in a place where I’m not learning, or worse, not operating.”

“You’ll get in,” Judy said with absolute certainty. “They’d be idiots not to take you. You’re like the human version of a scalpel sharp, precise, and kind of scary when focused.”

Lilia laughed, genuinely this time. “Thanks, I think.”

Judy grinned. “Anytime. Just don’t forget me when you’re famous and operating on prime ministers and billionaires.”

“I’d rather fix the hearts of people who can’t afford it,” Lilia said, quietly but firmly.

Judy blinked, then smiled even wider. “And that’s why you’ll go far.”

As the canteen filled up and the noise level rose, Lilia looked around. Her classmates were chatting, laughing, scrolling through phones, planning night outs and shopping trips. Lilia didn’t belong to that world. She didn’t care about the latest trends or spending a small fortune on makeup. She had no interest in parties or clubbing or group selfies in the name of friendship. She was here for something else.

She didn’t need a crowd. She had Judy. And she had a dream.

As they finished their breakfast, Judy’s pager buzzed. “Ugh, emergency in ortho,” she groaned. “Gotta run.”

Lilia nodded, gathering her things slowly. “Be careful in there. Try not to fight with the residents again.”

Judy winked. “No promises.”

Once she was alone, Lilia wandered out of the canteen and into the courtyard. The morning sun had climbed higher, bathing the stone benches and trimmed hedges in gold. The world moved around her. students in scrubs rushing to lectures, professors with coffee cups in hand, nurses on their way to the wards.

She pulled out her phone and stared at the screen.

Still no email.

Her fingers hovered over the inbox icon again, even though she had already checked it three times that morning. She sighed and slipped the phone back into her coat pocket.

Montelure’s decisions were supposed to be out this week, but there was no exact date. Waiting was its own kind of torture.

She sat on one of the benches, letting her thoughts drift.

The courtyard around her hummed with life, but her mind floated elsewhere—sutures, anatomy reviews, residency schedules, future surgeries she hadn’t yet been allowed to touch. Her fingers traced the edge of her coat pocket, feeling the smooth shape of her phone again. Still no buzz.

She leaned back and looked up at the sky. Cloudless. Cruel, almost, in how peaceful it looked.

Her stomach tightened. She hated waiting. Not because of impatience, it is because she had done everything she could. The exams, the electives, the research paper. There was nothing left to improve, no more checkboxes to tick. All that remained now was judgment. And silence.

A glance at the campus clock tower told her it was nearly 11:30.

She stood with a sigh and stretched her arms, the motion stiff after hours of sitting in classes and clinics. She still had a full shift ahead of her. Her part-time job at Café Lys, a little independent coffee shop tucked two blocks from campus. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid just enough to cover her rent and groceries.

And tonight, like most nights, she'd be there until close.

As she walked to the bus stop, she passed a group of her classmates chatting near the library steps. They were making plans for a weekend getaway like France, maybe, or Brussels. Someone mentioned hiking and wine. Another talked about shopping and live music.

None of it felt like her world.

Lilia didn’t mind. She had made her choices long ago.