The Heart of Healing

Maya bolted.

Not literally, but close enough.

Her heart was still hammering in her chest, and she needed to breathe—needed space, needed to process the absolute rollercoaster that had just happened.

Because what was that?

That was not just a routine hospital scene. That had been… something else entirely. Charged. Intense. The way Carina had looked at her, the way her voice had dipped, the way she had changed the script—

Maya shook her head, shoving those thoughts away as she pushed open the exit door leading to one of the quieter hallways off-set. The cool air hit her face, and she exhaled sharply.

Okay. It’s fine. You survived. You did your job. You didn’t completely embarrass yourself this time.

Now she just had to avoid Carina for the rest of her life.

Easy.

Maya turned a corner—

And walked straight into someone.

Someone warm. Someone who smelled like expensive perfume and just a hint of coffee.

Maya froze.

Because of course. Of course it had to be her.

Carina DeLuca.

Maya stumbled back, almost tripping over her own feet, barely catching herself.

Carina, however, didn’t even flinch. She stood there, looking as effortlessly composed as ever, arms crossed, an amused tilt to her lips.

Maya, on the other hand, was dying inside.

"Uh—sorry," she blurted out, running a hand through her hair. "Didn’t see you there."

Carina arched an eyebrow, gaze sweeping over her slowly. "Clearly."

Maya clenched her jaw, heat creeping up her neck. "Right. Well. I’ll just—go." She motioned vaguely to the side, attempting to escape, but—

Carina shifted slightly. Not enough to block her, but just enough to make it clear she wasn’t done yet.

Maya swallowed.

Carina studied her, eyes dancing with something undeniably mischievous.

"You ran out of there awfully fast," she mused.

Maya’s stomach flipped. "No, I didn’t."

Carina hummed, tilting her head. "Mm, sure."

Maya scowled. "I didn’t."

Carina smirked, leaning just a fraction closer. "If you say so."

Maya felt her entire nervous system betray her.

Because, god help her, Carina was standing too close. And she knew it. And she was enjoying it.

Maya’s pulse was out of control.

This was unfair. This was completely unfair.

She needed to leave before she said something stupid.

"Okay—good talk, really—gotta go," Maya muttered, side-stepping past Carina and forcing herself to walk away.

She could feel Carina watching her go.

And somehow, that was worse.

Maya exhaled sharply as she rounded the next corner, pressing her back against the wall.

This job was going to kill her.

-------------

Maya’s apartment was a haven of quiet after the chaos of the set. She kicked off her shoes the moment she walked through the door, the weight of the day finally starting to lift from her shoulders.

A deep breath in, a slow exhale out.

It felt good to be home.

Maya peeled off her jacket, tossing it onto the couch. She shuffled into the kitchen, filling a glass with water, hands still slightly shaky from the day’s events. It had been a whirlwind—Carina DeLuca, the Carina DeLuca, testing her at every turn, pushing her boundaries, and throwing in lines that weren’t in the script just to see how she’d react.

And she had reacted.

A mix of nerves, frustration, and, if she was being totally honest with herself, something else. A little spark.

Maya shook her head. "Nope. Not going there."

She took a sip of water, deciding that maybe, just maybe, she could relax. She pulled out her phone to scroll through social media, trying to drown out the buzz of the day. Just as she was about to settle into a comfortable silence, her phone buzzed again.

Unknown number.

Maya frowned, thinking it was probably just a reminder or something unrelated. But she answered anyway.

"Hello?"

"Maya Bishop? Is this Maya Bishop?" The voice on the other end was crisp and professional.

"Yeah, this is her."

"This is Miranda Bailey from the production team on The Heart of Healing. I’m calling with some news about your role."

Maya’s stomach tightened. What did that mean? She had just barely made it through the day without any major disasters. "Uh… okay, what’s up?"

"After some internal discussion and considering your chemistry with Carina DeLuca during today’s scene, the writers and I have decided to offer you a full role as a love interest for Dr. Russo."

Maya blinked, trying to process the words. "Wait, what?"

"Yes, we’re upgrading your role from an extra to a featured one."

Maya’s heart skipped a beat. "Hold on, what? I—"

"You’ll be portraying the love interest for Dr. Russo's character going forward, and we want to incorporate you into upcoming episodes. We’ll be sending over a revised script, and we’d like you to come in tomorrow for a wardrobe fitting and to meet with the writers about your character’s arc. And of course, for a table read."

Maya felt the world tilt. "This… this is a joke, right? I’m an extra—a background character—how am I suddenly a lead’s love interest? I have no experience…"

"It’s not a joke, Maya. You’ve got something—something that works on screen. This is a great opportunity, and we want you to be part of it."

Maya was still trying to process, her mind spinning. "Okay, wait—are you sure about this? I’ve been barely on set for two days. I can’t… I don’t know if I can pull this off."

"You can, Maya. You’ve already shown you can handle it. Just trust us, and we’ll help guide you through the rest."

The line clicked off.

Maya stood there in stunned silence, staring at her phone.

She had handled high-pressure situations before. She had faced rejection, humiliation, and even the soul-crushing disappointment of finding out her favorite diner had permanently closed.

But this?

This was a new kind of crisis.

Because as she sat there, phone still in her hand, brain still buffering, one singular, horrifying thought kept echoing in her mind:

She was now Carina DeLuca’s love interest.

On screen. Obviously.

Obviously.

Maya’s stomach flipped as the reality of it settled in.

Love interest.

As in romantic tension. As in emotional scenes. As in possibly kissing Carina freaking DeLuca.

Maya shot up from the couch like it was on fire. "Nope. Nope, nope, nope—there has to be a mistake."

She started pacing, her hands running through her hair in sheer panic. How had this happened? Two hours ago, she was an extra who was barely surviving a clipboard scene, and now she was… what, a co-star? A romantic lead?

Was this real life?

She glanced back down at her phone, half-expecting the production team to call back and say, "Whoops, wrong Maya, our bad, you can go back to being Background Doctor #4."

But no.

The message was very clear.

She was now officially playing opposite Carina DeLuca.

Maya groaned, flopping face-first onto her couch.

Maya barely slept that night.

------------------------

Maya arrived on set running on three hours of sleep, two cups of coffee, and an ever-growing sense of existential dread.

She had barely stepped through the doors before Travis, the production assistant, spotted her. "Maya! Glad you’re here. Costume fitting first, then script meeting. Let’s go!"

Maya barely had time to respond before she was being ushered down the hall, past a flurry of crew members setting up for the day. Her mind was still trying to catch up. "Okay, but—are we sure about this?" she asked as she tried to keep up with Travis brisk pace. "Like, really sure? Because I feel like there might have been some kind of clerical error—"

Travis gave her a look. "Maya. The decision’s final. The producers loved what they saw."

Maya opened her mouth, then closed it.

There was no getting out of this, was there?

Travis stopped in front of the wardrobe department and gestured toward the fitting room. "Get changed. The script meeting starts in twenty minutes."

Maya stepped into the cramped costume fitting room with a mix of excitement and apprehension. The room was filled with racks of eclectic outfits, fabric swatches, and the low hum of fluorescent lights. Victoria Hughes—Vic, as everyone called her—was already there, clipboard in hand, ready to help Maya discover the perfect look for her character.

“Alright, Maya,” Vic said warmly, “let’s start with this blouse. It’s light and elegant—perfect for your scene.”

Maya nodded and began to try on the blouse. Just then, the door swung open, and Carina made her entrance. Clad in a sleek blazer paired with tailored black jeans, Carina exuded an effortless confidence that made Maya’s heart skip a beat. With a mischievous smile, Carina walked over to a rack of accessories and glanced at Maya in the mirror.

"Buongiorno, Ma-ya."

Maya’s body went rigid.

No.

No, no, no, no—she was not ready for this yet.

In a soft, playful tone, Carina said in Italian, "Bella, i tuoi occhi blu sarebbero davvero splendidi se li abbinassi a qualcosa di rosso."
("Your blue eyes would look absolutely stunning if you paired them with something red.")

Maya, who understood only the occasional Italian word, turned to Vic with wide eyes. “What did she say?” she whispered.

Vic just smiled indulgently. “I am not completely sure. But I guess something about your blue eyes and the color red.”

Maya blushed and glanced back at Carina, who was watching her with a playful glimmer in her eyes. “I—I guess I can try the red scarf then,” Maya mumbled, both flattered and nervous about being the subject of Carina’s teasing.

Vic chuckled. “Don’t worry, Maya. Just trust your instincts. Carina has a way of pushing everyone out of their comfort zone, but that’s how you grow.”

As the fitting wrapped up, Vic gathered the last of the clothes and complimented Maya on her progress. Carina lingered a moment longer, her eyes softening as she regarded Maya. In that cluttered, bustling room, Maya also studied Carina in detail.

She looked effortless, as usual—her hair in loose waves, her makeup flawless, wearing an outfit that screamed sophistication, while Maya was again standing there in sweatpants and a hoodie, looking like a raccoon that had just crawled out of a dumpster.

"You." The word escaped before Maya could stop it.

Carina smirked, tilting her head. "Me?"

Maya clenched her jaw, stepping forward like she wasn’t on the verge of a full-body meltdown. "Did you know about this?"

Carina blinked, all faux innocence. "About what?"

Maya threw her hands up. "Oh, come on! The whole love interest thing!"

Carina pursed her lips, pretending to think. "Oh, that."

Maya squinted. "Yes, that."

Carina’s smirk deepened. "I may have heard something about it."

Maya’s stomach dropped. "Wait—are you saying you knew?"

Carina shrugged, reaching for a hanger and inspecting a neatly pressed lab coat. "Diciamo che... I had a feeling it might happen."

Maya gawked. "A feeling?"

Carina lifted a brow. "You think producers don’t notice chemistry?"

Maya nearly tripped over her own feet. "We don’t have—there’s no chemistry!"

Carina hummed, like she found that highly debatable. "Mm. Sure."

Maya could not deal with this right now.

She ran a hand down her face, taking a deep, steadying breath. "This is insane. I’m an extra. I was supposed to be in, like, one scene. And now—now I’m supposed to be playing your love interest?"

Carina grinned. "Sembra di sì." ("It seems so.")

Maya let out a strangled noise.

And the worst part? Carina was thriving off this. She was having the time of her life, watching Maya unravel like this.

Maya scowled. "You did this, didn’t you?"

Carina placed a delicate hand over her heart. "Io?"

"Yes, you. You sabotaged me with that stupid clipboard stunt. You knew they’d see something and promote me!"

Carina let out a low chuckle. "Ah, so you do believe there was chemistry?"

Maya spluttered. "That is not what I said!"

Carina simply smiled. "Certo."

Maya inhaled sharply through her nose. She was not going to let this woman get to her. Not today.

"Okay, you know what?" She squared her shoulders, standing taller. "Fine. You want me as your love interest? I can do that. I’m a professional. I’ll act like I’m madly in love with you, no problem."

Carina’s smirk turned downright wicked.

Maya immediately regretted her life choices.

"Bene, allora," Carina murmured, stepping closer—way too close—until Maya could feel the faint warmth of her perfume. "I suppose we should practice, no?"

Maya forgot how words worked. "P-Practice?"

Carina nodded, tilting her head slightly, gaze dipping down to Maya’s lips for a split second too long. "If you’re such a professional… we should rehearse. Get comfortable. Build the chemistry."

Maya’s brain short-circuited.

She needed to leave this room. Immediately.

"Oh—look at the time!" she blurted, taking a rapid step back. "Gotta—uh, script meeting, right? Big meeting. Super important. Don’t wanna be late!"

And then she bolted.

Again.

She was getting really good at running away from Carina DeLuca.

But something told her that, sooner or later…

She wouldn’t be able to run forever.

Maya was in hell.

There was no other explanation.

Actual, burning inferno of mortification kind of hell.

----------------------

Maya had thought coming into this table read prepared would save her from total embarrassment. She had spent hours with the script, memorizing her lines, mentally preparing herself for whatever challenges the role would throw her way.

But she hadn’t prepared for Carina DeLuca.

Because how could she? How could she have possibly anticipated that Carina, with her ridiculous confidence and that voice, would turn the entire thing into a game? How was she supposed to focus when every teasing word, every flicker of amusement in Carina’s eyes, made her entire nervous system go haywire?

Her palms were already slick with sweat.

The door swung open with a soft thud, and Maya’s gaze darted up—just in time to see her.

Of course.

Carina walked in like she owned the damn place. Shoulders back, heels clicking with each step, her presence commanding attention without even trying. She wasn’t just confident—she was effortless. Like she had never once questioned whether she belonged in any room she stepped into.

Maya, on the other hand, was barely holding herself together.

She quickly looked down at her script, pretending to read, pretending like she wasn’t hyperaware of every single movement Carina made as she took her seat at the table. Right next to Maya`s.

"Alright, everyone," the director called, snapping Maya’s focus back to the room. "Let’s start. We’re doing this table read with the new adjustments, including Maya’s expanded role."

Maya’s stomach flipped.

Expanded role. Right.

She was not ready.

"Starting with Scene 7, where Dr. Russo and Dr. Greene have a conversation in the hospital lounge," the director continued.

Maya could feel Carina’s gaze flick toward her.

Oh, god.

The scene began, and Maya tried. She really, really tried to focus, to deliver her lines with some level of professionalism. But then—

Carina went off-script. Again.

"Dr. Greene," she purred, her voice laced with unmistakable amusement. "Do you always get this nervous, or is it just me?"

Maya’s brain short-circuited.

That was not in the script.

She knew it. The director knew it. And judging by the way Carina was watching her—she knew exactly what she was doing.

Maya opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The words on the page were suddenly gone.

Carina’s lips twitched into something dangerously close to a smirk.

Oh, she was enjoying this.

"Come on, Dr. Greene," Carina murmured, leaning in slightly. "I’m not that intimidating, am I?"

Maya’s pulse skyrocketed.

This was so unfair.

She was supposed to be acting, not having a full-blown meltdown in the middle of a table read. But Carina wasn’t making it easy—not when she was sitting there, looking like the embodiment of trouble, her voice all low and teasing and—

"Cut!" the director’s voice rang out, slicing through the tension like a knife.

Maya exhaled sharply, her face burning.

Carina, meanwhile, leaned back in her chair, flipping through her script like she hadn’t just derailed the entire scene.

"Carina," the Andy sighed. "Maybe stick to the script?"

Carina simply smiled, tilting her head in faux innocence. "I was just adding a little… depth."

Maya wanted to die.

"Let’s take a quick break," the Andy continued. "Maya, you’re doing great, but try to stay in character. Carina, ease up on the improv."

Maya didn’t need to be told twice. She practically bolted from the table, heading for the corner of the room like it was a lifeline.

She needed air. She needed water. She needed to stop feeling like her entire body was on fire.

But of course, because the universe hated her—Carina followed.

Maya felt her before she even saw her. That presence. That frustrating, all-consuming presence.

"So," Carina murmured, coming to stand beside her, "you really do get nervous around me."

Maya whipped around, eyes wide. "I—what? No. I—no."

Carina arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Mmm. If you say so."

Maya groaned, running a hand through her hair. "You are impossible."

Carina smirked. "I prefer irresistible."

Maya made a sound that was definitely not attractive. "Oh my god."

Carina chuckled, tilting her head slightly. "You know, bella, you don’t have to be so tense."

And then, just to make things worse, she dropped into Italian.

"Mi scusi… sei così tesa."

Maya malfunctioned.

Literally.

Like, brain shut down, entire nervous system collapsed, kind of malfunction.

Because what the hell was she supposed to do with that? With the way Carina’s voice purred through the syllables? With the way her eyes lingered just a little too long?

Maya opened her mouth, ready to say something, anything—but then Carina leaned in closer.

"Relax, bella," she murmured, voice like honey. "It’s just a table read. You don’t have to be perfect, yet."

Maya froze.

Because it didn’t feel like she was talking about acting anymore.

For a split second, the air between them shifted. Something unspoken passed between them.

And then—

"Break’s over!" someone called from across the room.

Maya yanked herself back to reality, stumbling over her own feet in her hurry to put space between them.

Carina simply smiled.

Like she had won.

And, honestly?

Maya was pretty sure Carina had.

She was officially doomed.

Not just in a crushing on a coworker kind of way. No, that would be too simple. Too manageable.

She was doomed in a can’t stop staring at her, can’t stop thinking about her, can’t stop wanting to throw herself into the nearest ocean because of her kind of way.

And it was all Carina’s fault.

Because the table read was finally, mercifully, over, and yet Maya was still sitting there, gripping her script like it was some kind of life raft, while everyone else was already standing and chatting, moving on with their lives like the past hour hadn’t just completely ruined her.

She had tried—really tried—to stay professional. To stay focused.

But how was she supposed to focus when Carina had spent the entire damn read looking at her like that?

Like she knew exactly what she was doing. Like she was enjoying every second of Maya trying (and failing) to hold herself together.

And then there was everything else.

Carina smelled good.

No, great.

No, unreasonably, distractingly, unfairly good.

Maya had caught it the moment Carina sat next to her—a warm, clean, floral scent with something deeper underneath, like vanilla and spice. Something inviting. Something that made Maya want to lean in closer, to chase the scent just to see if it was as addictive as it seemed.

And then there were the details.

The little things she hadn’t allowed herself to notice before, but now, now they were all she could see.

Like the tiny beauty marks dusted across Carina’s skin. Like they’d been painted onto her with some divine precision, making Maya wonder how she’d never noticed them before.

And her nose.

God, her nose.

Perfectly shaped, sharp in a way that made her look both elegant and mischievous at the same time. Like she belonged in an old Italian film, sipping wine on a balcony somewhere, basking in golden light.

And her eyes.

Deep brown, but not just brown. No, they were warm, rich with flickers of gold when the light hit them just right. And when she looked at Maya—really looked at her—it felt like a challenge. Like she was daring Maya to react.

And the worst part?

Maya had reacted.

Her pulse had been unsteady the entire time. She had tripped over her words more than once. And every time Carina had smirked or leaned in just slightly too close, Maya had felt it like a live wire under her skin.

Now, sitting in her chair as the rest of the cast filtered out of the room, she realized the truth.

She was in so much trouble.

Because she was already gone.

Head over heels, spiraling fast, completely, utterly—

"You're staring, bella."

Maya jumped.

She hadn't even noticed Carina walking back up to her.

And that was a problem.

Because now, standing way too close, smelling way too good, with that knowing smirk on her lips, Carina was looking at her like she knew.

Like she could see the chaos happening inside Maya’s brain.

And Maya—who had just admitted to herself that she was completely and stupidly crushing on this woman—was not equipped to handle that.

"I—I was just—" she scrambled for words, standing up way too fast, nearly knocking her chair over in the process. "I wasn’t—I mean, I—"

Carina's smirk deepened. "Mmm."

Mmm.

That was all she said.

Just that soft little noise of amusement as she tilted her head, eyes flicking over Maya in a way that made her want to die.

Maya groaned, running a hand down her face. "I have to go."

Carina chuckled. "Oh? Running again?"

Maya scowled. "I hate you."

"You really don’t."

Maya turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

Because if she stayed another second, she was absolutely going to do something stupid.

Like grab Carina by her stupid, perfectly shaped face and kiss her senseless.