tati

How often do you drown in the depths of your own thoughts? How long do you allow yourself to stay there, willingly trapped in something that feels both agonizing and almost… sweet?

Trinity has an answer to that.

She’s had it for as long as she can remember. Since she was a child.

It shows on her body — etched into her skin in the form of countless tattoos, and along her thighs in the form of scars. Old and new. Some ugly, some almost… captivating.

But scars are still scars.

They stay. Forever.

And that forever? It’s something she could end herself. Anytime she wants.

Like today.

Cool evening air wraps around her as she steps onto the hospital rooftop. Her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag as she walks forward, stopping by the railing. Her tired gaze drifts across the horizon without much interest.

The city hums around her, familiar, constant. But after shifts like this, it all feels too quiet. Not loud enough.

Maybe every doctor knows this feeling.

You step out of the hospital and leave behind the chaos—voices, cries, laughter. Fifteen hours of noise, of life in every possible form.

And then suddenly, you’re back in the real world, not quite sure whether you should finally breathe… or hold it a little longer.

Her shift is over. The night team has taken over. She should already be on her way home.

But instead, she’s here.

On the roof.

What’s the point of rushing back to an empty apartment?

There was a reason this morning.

But then Yolanda suddenly had other plans and canceled their fireworks night. Lately, Garcia has been distant in general, making Trinity feel like she’s done something wrong.

Maybe she had. But then why not just say it to her face? They’re adults.

It was always supposed to be simple. Casual. No strings attached. Just sex. And at the beginning, Santos was fine with that. Until she started falling for the most emotionally unavailable surgeon in the entire hospital.

Lucky her.

Over the past month, there were moments—weak ones — when she almost confessed. Almost said it out loud.

Thankfully, she had enough clarity left to stop herself. To redirect the conversation. To pretend.

Maybe it really was over with Garcia.

She hadn’t been lying when she told Whitaker how she saw their relationship.

Maybe she was right. Maybe that’s all she’s good for. Not love.

Then Robby, completely unintentionally, made things worse by offering Dennis a place to stay for a while.

By the time Dennis told her that all she had to do was ask and he’d stay, she was already hiding behind sarcasm and sharp edges.

Yes, she wanted him to stay.

No, she would never say it out loud.

She’d rather die than talk about her feelings. And so, she ended up alone. The scalpel in her pocket feels like a cruel joke.

Part of her doesn’t want to add more scars.

Another part aches for silence. For stillness.

And this is the only way she’s ever known how to get it. It’s worked since she was young. The sooner she gets home, the sooner it will be over.

She’ll feel better. She always does.

But what if…

Her gaze drops downward. Her free hand grips the railing so tightly her fingers turn white.

What if she didn’t wait?

What if she ended it right here?

She doesn’t want to die. Not really. It’s more… passive than that.

For now.

No. That’s not an option. Too many people around. If the fall isn’t fatal, they’ll get to her in time. And if she survives, there’s a chance she won’t walk away from it.

She bites down on her lower lip, thinking it through. But her gaze doesn’t leave the ground below.

And what if it is fatal?

Then it’s over.

No more problems. No more thoughts. No more… situationship.

Nothing.

Isn’t that what she wants?

…Is it?

Would anyone even care if she disappeared?

For ten months, most people treated her with cold distance. Avoided her. Talked around her. Made comments just loud enough for her to hear.

All because she did the right thing.

Truth has a price. But why is she the one paying it, and not Langdon?

He was the one stealing pills. He was the one suspended.

And yet she’s the one getting punished for it.

She doesn’t have close friends. No partner. She’s distant from her family. Just acquaintances. Colleagues.

…No. That’s not entirely true. She has Whitaker. Probably her only real friend, even if she’s never said it out loud.

“What the hell is the point of any of this…”

The words slip out under her breath as she closes her eyes, letting her thoughts drift just a little longer.

The door behind her suddenly opens.

Voices. Multiple.

People.

Trinity’s eyes snap open and she turns sharply, hoping she doesn’t look like a deer caught in headlights.

To her surprise, it’s Dana, Robby, Samira, Perlah, Princess, Victoria, Dennis, and—

…Garcia?

Robby looks like Dana dragged him up here by the collar, and honestly, Trinity wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what happened. Despite acting like an ass all shift, everyone could tell he was barely holding it together. And Dana, being Dana, is trying to knock some sense into him.

Trinity shifts awkwardly when they notice her.

They’re just as surprised as she is.

“Santos? Decided to stay and watch the fireworks from here?”

Dana looks at her with mild curiosity. Trinity doesn’t strike her as the type.

“Uh… yeah. Nothing to do at home anyway.”

The lie comes easily.

She makes a point not to look at Yolanda. What the hell is she doing here?

Garcia looks at her. Says nothing. Of course.

Dana doesn’t push.

The others settle in, waiting for the fireworks to start. Samira is on the phone. Dana loops an arm around Emma’s shoulders, chatting with her, probably trying to help her feel included, before pulling Robby into the conversation. Victoria and Dennis are deep in their own discussion, though Dennis keeps glancing at Trinity every now and then.

Perlah and Princess whisper to each other, occasionally glancing her way, before clearly deciding something and walking over.

“Girl, okay ka lang ba?”

Princess deserves credit for how hard she tries not to sound worried. So does Perlah.

“Oo, pagod lang ako tulad ng iba.”

Trinity forces a smile, slipping her hands into her jacket pockets so they won’t see them shake.

The two women exchange a look. Push or don’t push?

“Ito ay parang hindi ka sa sarili mo ngayon.”

Princess blurts it out and instantly looks guilty. Perla mutters something in another language and nudges her. They’re usually fun to watch. She liked them from day one.

She doesn’t quite know what they are to her… but she hopes it’s something more than just coworkers. Friends would be nice.

“Hindi, talaga, ayos lang ako. Maraming nangyayari, iyon lang. Wala kang dapat ipag-alala.”

She answers quickly. Too quickly.

What she doesn’t know is that Garcia is watching. Pretending to scroll through her phone.

Garcia, meanwhile, feels like an idiot.

Perlah and Princess, the hospital’s main gossips, dragged her up here. She could’ve gone home after that hellish shift. But then they mentioned Santos might be here.

And suddenly, she wasn’t in a hurry anymore.

After their conversation earlier, the one where she’d been a little too harsh, she had time to think.

She regrets reducing whatever they had to sex and ramen in bed. But she doesn’t regret telling her to see a therapist. Trinity clearly needed to talk to someone about Frank. Garcia can’t be that person. Not when she doesn’t even know the full story.

Still, she’s aware she’s been acting like a teenager lately, not a grown woman in her thirties.

Avoiding Trinity. Trying to figure out what this even is. Despite the fact that ten months ago, she was the one who set the rules.

No strings. No feelings. Just sex.

Until it wasn’t.

God, she even canceled their plans to watch the fireworks together. Plans they had actually made in advance.

“I have other plans” turned out to mean she had none. She knows why she said it. She just doesn’t want to admit it. If the elevator doors hadn’t closed right in her face, she might’ve fixed it.

But it was too late.

Santos has been on her mind all day. An actual crime. And Dr. Yolanda Garcia isn’t known for feeling guilty. So she plans to fix it.

Tonight.

While Trinity is distracted, Garcia watches her. Studies her. The exhaustion is obvious. But it’s more than that. Something else. Something she doesn’t like.

Finally, she decides to step in.

Trinity is just about ready to excuse herself and leave when a voice stops her.

“Santos.”

She freezes. Turns.

Yolanda Garcia, in all her composed glory. Didn’t she have plans?

“Dr. Garcia.”

Petty? Maybe. Right now, she doesn’t care.

Princess and Perla sense the tension immediately and quietly retreat. Not their battlefield.

“We’re not at work” Garcia raises a brow, arms crossing loosely over her chest. Calm.

“Then why are you here? Didn’t you have plans?” Trinity doesn’t know where she’s still finding the energy to be sharp.

Garcia looks at her for a few seconds. Feels like forever.

“No.”

Trinity opens her mouth, ready to snap again and stops.

“What do you mean? You literally—”

“I lied.”

Garcia steps closer.

“I didn’t have plans. I made them up.”

She looks calm. She isn’t. This isn’t something she’s used to. Every woman before followed the same rule.

No strings. No complications.

But Trinity Santos didn’t care about rules. Not even realizing it, Santos got under her skin like something dangerously addictive. Not deadly. Just… impossible to quit.

After that, Trinity looks hurt. She tries to hide it. Fails.

Too tired to pretend.

“Why would you do that? You could’ve just said you changed your mind.”

She starts pulling back, retreating behind her walls. Garcia sees it. Knows she has to move fast.

“I don’t know. A lot was going on, and I took it out on you.”

A lie. She was just confused.

“Doesn’t really matter now,” Trinity mutters.

“It does. Maybe not how we planned it, but we can still watch the fireworks together.”

An olive branch. Garcia doesn’t usually offer those. But for Santos… she can bend. A little.

Trinity looks at her, uncertain. Her fingers tighten slightly around the scalpel in her pocket.

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. But a few hours ago, she had already made peace with things falling apart.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Garcia tilts her head slightly, softening her expression.

“Trinity?”

Just like earlier.

Trinity reacts immediately. The way her name sounds in Garcia’s voice... something tightens in her chest.

God.

“…Yeah. But we...”

She doesn’t know how to finish that.

Are we okay? What is this? Why were you avoiding me? What are we doing? What are we?

Too many questions. No answers.

Garcia seems to understand anyway. She hesitates, then shakes her head.

“Not here. We’ll talk at home.”

Trinity wants to argue. Stops herself. Not the place.

“…Okay. But I’m holding you to that” she rolls her eyes, though it lacks its usual bite.

Garcia just nods, gesturing toward the others.

First, fireworks. Then home. Probably hers. Then they talk. Maybe, if it goes well… they fall back into something familiar.

When the time comes, the sky lights up. Fireworks bloom overhead. Everyone looks up.

Trinity’s shoulder brushes lightly against Garcia’s. Nothing obvious. But enough.

Her fingers loosen around the scalpel. Not today.

Maybe she’s not alone.

Maybe there’s still something left to hold onto.

Girl, okay ka lang ba? (Tagalog) — Girl, are you okay?

Oo, pagod lang ako tulad ng iba (Tagalog) — Yes, I'm just as tired as everyone else.

Ito ay parang hindi ka sa sarili mo ngayon (Tagalog) — It's like you're not on your own now.