The Heart of Healing

Maya spent the rest of the day trying to get a grip on herself.

Which, given her track record, was going terribly.

It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, she could still smell Carina—still picture the teasing glint in her eyes, still feel the ghost of a smirk lingering in the back of her mind. She was a mess. An absolute disaster.

Maya had never been the kind of person who overanalyzed her own emotions. She liked things simple, straightforward. No complications, no unnecessary feelings.

That was the whole point of Self-Care Wednesday.

It had started as a joke—an inside thing with herself, a way to justify the one night a week she set aside for exactly what she wanted. A no-strings-attached hookup, a couple of drinks, maybe a little cardio in the form of tangled sheets and breathless laughter. It was routine. A system. And it worked.

At least, it had worked.

She wasn’t the type to catch feelings. Not for anyone. She’d never been in love before—never even come close. Affection? Sure. Lust? Absolutely. But love? That was for other people. People who let themselves get hurt.

That wasn’t her.

And yet…

Here she was, sitting alone in her apartment, turning over every interaction with Carina in her head like a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve. She could still hear her voice, feel the heat of her gaze. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It wasn’t supposed to feel different.

She grabbed her phone, scrolling absently through her messages. She could text someone, call someone—fall back into her routine and prove to herself that nothing had changed. That she was still in control.

But her fingers hesitated.

For the first time, the idea of reaching for someone else felt like a lie.

And that scared her more than anything.

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

On the next day the set bustled with energy—a modern hospital ward complete with bright lights, cameras, and crew members ensuring every detail is perfect. Dr. Greene (Maya) stood by a patient’s bed, meticulously reviewing a chart.

"Quiet on set—and… action!", Andy Herrera called.

Dr. Russo (Carina) entered with a confident, measured stride. Her eyes sparkled with playful intent as she approached Dr. Greene.

"Nervous, Dr. Greene?"

"Not at all. Just... focused."

Dr. Russo stepped closer, invading just enough of Dr. Greene’s space to make it intentional. Her dark eyes scanned Maya’s face like she had already figured her out.

"Va bene. Because I don’t have time for distractions."

Maya swallowed hard. It was ridiculous how just a look from Carina—uh, Dr. Russo—could make her feel like a mumbling mess all over again. But she was not. She was a professional. So she squared her shoulders and smirked back.

"Neither do I. Which is why I’ll keep things strictly professional."

Dr. Russo tilted her head ever so slightly, stepped closer, her hand was grazing Dr. Greene’s forearm with deliberate, lingering contact that sent a shiver down Maya`s spine.

"Strictly professional… We’ll see how long that lasts."

And with that, Dr. Russo walked away, leaving Dr. Greene standing there, heart pounding, trying to remember how to breathe.

"And… CUT!"

Maya exhaled sharply as Carina turned back to her with a teasing grin.

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

Carina`s dressing room was cozy and softly lit, filled with the hum of hairdryers, scattered makeup, and costume pieces. Carina, still radiant in her costume and makeup, glanced into the mirror with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. Maya lingered at the doorway, uncertainty warring on her face. She had been told, Carina wanted to talk her.

"Maya, come on in! Let's talk!" Carina cheerfully said in a teasing tone.

Maya stepped hesitantly inside, her nerves evident as she replied. "Okay. What exactly do you want to talk about?"

Carina set her makeup brush down with a flourish and sauntered over, her tone light and flirtatious.

"Our chemistry on set today was magical, don't you think? And I was thinking—why not run through our upcoming kissing scene, just the two of us? Away from the cameras. What do you say?"

Maya's eyes widened slightly, and she nervously stuttered, "You want to... practice the kissing scene? Alone? Right now?"

Carina laughed softly and stepped closer, her hand gently brushing Maya's arm.

"Yes, no crew, no pressure—just us. It’ll help you relax more and make it more realistico. Besides, a little fun never hurt anyone. Just if you want, that is?"

Maya took a deep breath, her nerves mingling with anticipation.

"I’m…, Carina, I don't want… I think. Look, maybe… I think it might be good. Yes, it might be good to try. Definitely."

Carina smiled warmly, her eyes glimmering with mischief.

"Non essere nervosa! I promise, I don`t bite, except if you want me to. Right now, I’ll be just gentle…"

She leaned in and planted a soft, teasing kiss on Maya's left cheek before stepping back with a satisfied grin.

Maya couldn`t even fully comprehend what had just happened. She just continued to look dumbly at Carina.

Carina’s tone turned conspiratorial as she lowered her voice.

"See? Non è stato così male, vero? Now, imagine this is the scene where all that built-up tension finally bursts free."

The dressing room had transformed into an intimate stage where the world outside ceased to exist. The soft glow of a single lamp cast gentle shadows, and the air was rich with the heady scent of Carina’s signature perfume—a blend of warmth and spice that enveloped Maya, heightening every sense.

Maya`s pulse was thundering in her ears.

Carina moved gracefully toward her, a playful yet commanding smile on her lips. With a tender motion, she reached out and lightly brushed Maya’s hair aside, her fingers trailing along Maya’s cheek. In that brief touch, Maya felt as though time had slowed—the world narrowing to the soft caress. Her heart skipped a beat, her pulse skyrocketing as Carina leaned in ever closer.

Without breaking eye contact, Carina’s warm breath danced along Maya’s neck as she nuzzled the sensitive skin there. Her hand, gentle yet purposeful, stroked Maya’s hair, each movement designed to both soothe and tantalize. In a low, husky murmur, Carina whispered flirtatiously in Italian, “Amore, sei semplicemente irresistibile.”

Maya gasped—a soft, involuntary sound.

"You’re thinking too much, Ma-ya."

Before Maya could even process what’s happening, Carina leaned in again—smooth, effortless, like she did this every day (because she probably did).

And then—Carina’s lips were on hers.

Maya freezed.

Her brain completely, utterly shut down.

For a few seconds, she couldn’t move—couldn’t even breathe. Carina’s lips were soft, warm, and far too confident for Maya’s completely short-circuited mind to handle.

Carina pulled back, her expression half-amused, half-exasperated. She placed her hands on her hips and let out a dramatically deep sigh.

"Maya… you know how a kiss works, right?"

Maya blinked at her, still in a daze.

"…Yes?", Maya dumbly responded.

Carina bit her lip, holding back a laugh.

"Are you sure?"

Maya frowned, her brain finally rebooting and defensively responded with "Yes! Maybe? Maybe not. I just—okay, I wasn’t ready!"

Carina raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"It’s just a kiss, bella."

Maya glared at her, but it was mostly to keep herself from combusting.

Carina stepped closer again, placing her hands lightly on Maya’s waist—a dangerous move—and tilted her head in mock thoughtfulness.

"Okay, let’s try this again. But this time, try to participate, sì?"

Maya huffed, crossing her arms.

"I was participating!"

Carina gave her a pointed look.

"Maya, you just stood there like a very cute but very confused statue."

Maya groaned, covering her face for a second before straightening up.

"Fine. Let’s go again."

Carina grinned, clearly enjoying herself way too much.

"Bene! Allora, this time, let’s try some basic techniques, sì?"

Maya narrowed her eyes.

"I hate you."

"Shhh, devi concentrarti. Focus!" Carina responded in mock seriousness and with one raised finger.

Before Maya could come up with another retort, Carina leaned in, yet again—this time slower, giving Maya time to actually do something.

"Maya, this is nostro momento. Just… move your lips. You know how to do this. Right?"

This time, when Carina’s lips met hers, Maya didn’t freeze. She hesitantly and awkwardly pressed back, trying to find the rhythm.

Carina made a little hum against her lips, and then—because she just had to be a menace—pulled back again.

Maya blinked, lips slightly parted, already missing the contact.

"See? That wasn’t difficile, was it?" smirked Carina.

Maya groaned, shoving Carina’s shoulder lightly, which only made her laugh.

Carina grinned, stepping closer again, her voice low and teasing.

"Oh, Ma-ya, we’re just getting started."

Maya groaned dramatically, but a part of her (a very traitorous part) was definitely enjoying this way more than she actually should.

Carina stepped closer, hands now resting lightly on Maya’s shoulders, her touch warm and steady.

"Va bene, lezione uno. Relax. A kiss is not a battle to win, sì? It’s… una conversazione."

She dragged her hands down Maya’s arms slowly, her fingers barely skimming over the fabric of her shirt. Maya tried very hard not to react, but Carina’s smirk told her she was failing.

"This is so unnecessary." Maya muttered.

Carina ignored her.

"Lezione due—" She lifted a hand and lightly touched Maya’s jaw, tilting her face slightly. "You don’t just stand there waiting. You move with the kiss. Tilt when needed. Engage."

Maya sighed.

Carina gave her a deeply unimpressed look.

Maya groaned again, but before she could argue, Carina stepped impossibly closer. Her fingers grazed Maya’s chin, her thumb stroking lightly over the corner of her lips.

Maya’s breath caught.

" Lezione tre … kissing is about feeling, not just mechanics."

And then—Carina kissed her again.

This time, it was different.

She was slow—deliberate—like she was teaching with each movement. Her lips brushed over Maya’s, soft and sure, before she pulled back ever so slightly.

"Vedi? Questa è un'invito."

Maya still didn’t respond because she was currently losing her entire mind.

Carina leaned in again, her lips pressing just a little firmer this time, lingering. Then she pulled back again—this time dragging her fingers down Maya’s neck, as if emphasizing her point.

"And this? Questa è anticipazione." Carina murmured like a damn instructor.

Maya swallowed hard, her pulse thundering.

"Are you… narrating our kiss right now?" a hoarse, barely functioning Maya replied.

Carina pulled back slightly, looking far too pleased with herself.

"Naturalmente. I want to make sure you’re learning."

Maya let out a strangled `ugh` and dramatically dropped her head against Carina’s shoulder. "I continue to hate you."

Carina laughed, wrapping her arms loosely around Maya’s waist.

"No, non è vero. You like me. Very much so, solo judging tutta la tua reazione al fatto che io stia così vicino a te. And touching you." Carina teased, stroking Maya`s back lightly.

Maya groaned again. "I definitely don’t."

Carina hummed, leaning down to whisper into Maya’s ear, voice laced with amusement.

"We should probably practice more, just to be sure and to able to fully verify your statement."

Maya’s heart was pounding, her skin tingling in the places where Carina’s fingers had just been—her cheek, her neck, the ghost of a touch lingering. She was trying to regain control of her breathing, but Carina, effortlessly poised, didn’t seem in any rush to step away.

Carina watched Maya with an amused glint in her eye, clearly enjoying the effect she had on her. Then, with a slow, knowing smile, she leaned casually against the vanity, crossing her arms in a way that made her look effortlessly confident.

"You did well, Maya. You do feel the difference between our first try and our last one, didn’t you?"

Maya swallowed hard. Oh, she felt it, alright. Every single second of it.

She nodded, but words didn’t come out. Because how was she supposed to talk when her mind was still stuck on the fact that Carina had just kissed her like it was the most natural thing in the world?

Carina tilted her head, watching her reaction, then decided to push a little further.

“I was thinking… maybe we could meet again sometime? Go over a few lines? Rehearse some more?"

Maya’s brain malfunctioned. Private? As in, alone? With Carina? Practicing this? Again?

"You… I… you want—what?" May blinked rapidly.

Carina chuckled, clearly entertained, and stepped forward again, her presence once again consuming all of Maya’s focus.

"Tu. Io. No distractions. Just rehearsing."

The way she said it—her voice a warm, lilting tease—made Maya’s stomach flip. She had to mean this professionally… right?

"Oh. Oh, yeah, I mean, of course, totally. Practicing. That’s… yes. We should do that. Practicing is good. Words. Lines. Talking. I love talking. And, um… rehearsing. In private. With you."

Carina bit her lip, trying to suppress a grin, but her dimples were betraying her.

"Are you okay? You seem a little tense and also you a very red, Maya…"

Maya let out a breathy, nervous laugh, willing herself to pull it together.

"Nope. Not flustered. Totally normal. Just, you know, thinking about… acting. And, uh, professionalism." Maya responded quickly, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

Carina smirked, stepping just close enough that Maya could once again smell that ridiculously intoxicating perfume.

"If you say so, bella. So… tonight?" Carina lowered her voice slightly, very amused.

Maya’s brain short-circuits again. She nodded panicked.

"Tonight? That’s… yep. That’s a time. Good time. Great time for kis- ehm…practicing."

Carina let out a small, satisfied hum before stepping back, grabbing her phone from the counter.

"Perfetto. I’ll text you the details. Be ready."

She actually winked before heading toward the door, leaving Maya standing there, still trying to remember how to breathe.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Carina, Maya let out a deep breath and groaned into her hands.

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

Maya stumbled into her apartment, barely remembering the drive home. Her mind had been a chaotic mess ever since she left Carina’s dressing room.

Her hands were still unsteady as she threw her keys onto the kitchen counter. She paced back and forth, raking a hand through her blonde hair.

"What the hell just happened?"

She could still feel it—Carina’s touch on her skin, the way her breath had ghosted over her neck, the teasing lilt in her voice when she whispered in Italian. It had all been so… intense. And now, Maya was supposed to just casually show up at Carina’s place and “rehearse” like nothing happened?

Yeah, right.

She flopped onto her couch, gripping her phone like it held all the answers. But so far, nothing.

The minutes crawled by. Every time her phone buzzed with some stupid notification, she jumped, only to feel the crushing disappointment when it was not Carina.

Her mind spiralled.

"Was she even serious about tonight? Was it just a game to her? Or—oh god—what if I looked like a total idiot back there?"

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. The waiting was unbearable.

Then—her phone buzzed.

She scrambled to grab it, her heart hammering in her chest as she saw Carina’s name on the screen.

Carina [8:42 PM]: Hey, Maya. I have to cancel tonight. Something came up.

Maya stared at the message, reading it three, four, five times, waiting for… more.

But that’s it. No explanation. No rain check? No I’ll make it up to you? Just… something came up.

Her stomach sank.

"What does that even mean?"

A hundred possibilities rushed through her head. Did she change her mind? Did I do something wrong? Is this her way of backing out of whatever that was between us earlier?

She tapped on the message box, started typing, then deleted it.

Then typed again. Then deleted it again.

Because what was she even supposed to say?

She locked her phone and threw it onto the coffee table, crossing her arms as she sank back into the couch, chewing her bottom lip.

The excitement she had felt just an hour ago had twisted into something entirely different now. Confusion. Frustration. And a nagging, uneasy feeling in her gut that she couldn’t quite shake.

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

The next day, sometime around noon, between fumbling through her next scene and almost spilling coffee on herself, Maya noticed something she hadn’t before.

Carina was… quiet.

Not just quiet in the normal I’m too elegant for small talk kind of way—this was different.

She wasn’t lingering in conversations. She wasn’t flashing that knowing smirk at Maya or anyone else. She wasn’t throwing out her usual offhanded remarks to make Maya stumble.

She was just… there. Keeping to herself.

It was weird.

And Maya, who was still struggling to not think about her every five seconds, decided that teasing Carina about it was the only logical course of action.

After all, Carina had spent the past two days making her flustered beyond reason and cancelled their meeting last night with no explanation whatsoever.

It was only fair she returned the favor.

So, when she spotted Carina standing off to the side of the set, leaning against a table, her phone in hand, Maya pounced.

"Wow," Maya said as she sauntered up. "Look at this. No sharp comments? No mind games? You’re really letting me down here. Like you also did last night."

Nothing.

Not even a flicker of amusement.

Maya frowned. "Come on, you’re not even going to try and insult me? I thought that was your thing."

Carina didn’t look up.

Her grip on her phone tightened slightly, but that was it.

Maya hesitated.

Something felt off.

But she had already committed to the bit, so she kept going. "Seriously, what’s up? First you wanna meet up and then you ditch me. Then you’re ignoring everyone today, not just me."

Still, no real reaction.

Carina just blinked down at her screen, barely acknowledging Maya’s existence.

That was—frustrating.

Maya had spent hours spiraling because of this woman, because of the way she made her feel, and now Carina wasn’t even paying attention to her?

It was infuriating.

So, before she could stop herself, she muttered, "Oh, I get it. The great Carina DeLuca is too good to talk to anyone today. Guess we’re all just beneath you, huh?"

It was meant to be light. A joke.

But the second the words left her mouth, she knew she had messed up.

Because Carina finally reacted.

Not with a smirk.

Not with a sharp retort.

Not even with annoyance.

No, she just inhaled slowly—like she was trying to steady herself—and that’s when Maya saw it.

A single tear.

Just one.

Sliding down her cheek before she could brush it away with the back of her hand.

Maya’s stomach dropped.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

"Carina," Maya breathed, suddenly feeling like the worst person on the planet. "I—"

But Carina shook her head, still not looking at her.

"Forget it, Maya," she said, voice barely above a whisper. And then, before Maya could say anything else, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Maya just stood there, heart hammering, watching her go.

And for the first time in a long time…

She had no idea what to do.

Maya was spiraling.

Full-blown, heart-pounding, stomach-churning spiraling.

She had replayed the moment at least a hundred times in her head already. The way Carina had barely acknowledged her. The way her shoulders had seemed tense, how her eyes had stayed glued to her phone, and then—then—how Maya, in all her brilliant wisdom, had decided to push her.

How she had said something awful.

And how, in response, Carina had let a single tear slip down her cheek before walking away.

Maya felt sick.

The sounds of the set felt too loud, too overwhelming. It was like her body was buzzing with the sheer weight of regret, and she had no idea how to fix it.

So, naturally, she went to get coffee.

Because what else was she supposed to do?

She was clutching a lukewarm cup, barely even aware of the fact that she hadn’t taken a sip, when a familiar voice called her name.

"Maya!"

She turned—and instantly tensed.

Miranda Bailey.

The Miranda Bailey, executive producer of The Heart of Healing, the woman who had the power to fire her on the spot if she so much as breathed wrong.

Maya tried to look normal, like she wasn’t currently having an emotional breakdown in the middle of set, but Miranda had the kind of gaze that could see right through someone’s soul.

"You look terrible," Miranda stated bluntly.

Maya let out a strangled laugh. "Thanks."

Miranda arched an eyebrow. "Something you wanna tell me?"

Maya absolutely did not want to tell her.

But unfortunately, Maya’s self-control had apparently abandoned her today, because before she could stop herself, she blurted out:

"I think I made Carina cry."

Miranda blinked. Slowly. Like she was processing whether Maya had actually said what she thought she had said.

"Excuse me?"

Maya groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "I—ugh. I was an idiot. I was trying to tease her, and I pushed too hard, and she just—she didn’t say anything. She just left."

Miranda studied her for a long moment. Then, with her usual no-nonsense tone, she said, "Well, that would explain why she’s gone."

Maya froze.

"Gone?" she repeated.

Miranda nodded. "Yeah. Family emergency. She left about twenty minutes ago."

Maya’s stomach clenched.

"What kind of emergency?"

"Something about her brother. Andrea, I think? She didn’t say much before she left—just that she had to go."

Maya felt like the floor had been ripped out from under her.

Not only had she been horrible to Carina, but Carina had already been dealing with something before Maya had even opened her mouth.

God.

So Carina maybe had a valid reason for cancelling their meeting last night.

Maya exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers to her temples.

"I’m an idiot."

Miranda gave her a long, assessing look before sighing. "Well. You wouldn’t be the first idiot on this set."

Maya let out a humorless laugh. "Doesn’t make me feel any better."

Miranda’s expression softened—just slightly.

"Look," she said, crossing her arms. "Whatever happened, you’ll have a chance to make it right. But for now, let her handle whatever she needs to handle."

Maya nodded, though it did nothing to ease the pressure in her chest.

Carina had left.

She was dealing with something serious.

And Maya had made it worse.

She had no idea how to fix it.

Still reeling from the conversation, Maya wandered through the bustling corridors of the studio. Lost in her thoughts, she nearly missed the hushed conversation by the makeup trailer. Curious, she edged closer and overheard Robert Sullivan—one of the lead actors—talking animatedly with a few crew members.

Robert’s tone was loud enough for Maya to catch fragments of his words.

"He’s bipolar—Andrea’s a real mess these days," Robert sneered, shaking his head. "Carina always coddles him, always putting him before anything else. I mean, come on, instead of dealing with all that drama at home, she could be out having some fun with me."

A murmur of agreement rose from one of his companions.

"And you know how it is with that guy—always on an emotional roller coaster. It’s like he is Carina’s baby, and she just can’t let him go."

Maya’s stomach twisted in anguish. She felt a surge of anger—not only for what Robert was saying, but for the way he dismissed the struggles of someone with a serious condition. How could he so flippantly mock Andrea’s disorder? And worse, how could he complain about Carina’s love and concern for her brother?

Horrified and heartbroken, Maya stepped back, her ears still burning with the unflattering gossip. For a moment, Maya wished she could gather the courage to confront him, to defend Carina—but she couldn’t even find her voice.

---------

Carina barely registered the way her heels clicked against the hospital floor.

She moved quickly, efficiently, her mind already three steps ahead, running through all the possible scenarios.

How bad is it this time?

Is he safe?

Did he hurt himself? Someone else?

She hated this feeling—this helpless, frantic ache in her chest every time Andrea spiraled.

The last time had been… bad.

Worse than the others.

And now?

Carina inhaled sharply, pushing through the automatic doors, barely glancing at the nurse at the front desk before making a beeline for the psych ward.

She didn’t need to be told where he was. She knew the drill by now.

And yet, despite the urgency pressing against her ribs, a fleeting thought crossed her mind—Maya Bishop.

Carina rolled her eyes before she could stop herself.

Of course she had to think about her now.

It wasn’t even because of what Maya had said earlier.

No, the comment itself had been insignificant.

It was the fact that she had let it show.

That damn tear.

Carina hated losing control like that.

She wasn’t someone who got easily rattled, especially not by some rookie actress trying to get under her skin. But today, of all days, her emotions had already been stretched too thin. The moment her phone had buzzed with a text from her father—three simple words: It’s happening again—Carina had felt the ground shift beneath her.

She had known.

And then Maya had come along, all sharp edges and misplaced bravado, prodding at her when she had nothing left to give.

So yes, she had let a tear slip.

And she hated herself for it.

Because it wasn’t Maya Bishop who had made her cry.

It was Andrea.

It was this endless, exhausting cycle of hope and disappointment, of manic highs and crushing lows, of watching someone she loved be at the mercy of his own mind.

Her little brother.

Her brilliant, stubborn, infuriating little baby brother—who had spent his whole life fighting against a brain that refused to let him rest.

Carina shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time.

She turned the corner and finally saw him.

Andrea was sitting on the hospital bed, arms crossed, glaring at the doctor speaking to him. He looked exhausted, but his expression was still defiant—still him.

Carina exhaled, bracing herself.

Then she stepped into the room.

"Hey, Andrea," she said softly.

Andrea turned to her, and despite everything—despite the hospital gown, the IV in his arm, the dark circles under his eyes—he still managed to smirk.

"Hey, sis."

Carina stepped closer, her eyes scanning Andrea carefully. He was still him—still her little brother, still that same infuriating mix of sharp wit and vulnerability—but there was something different this time. Something that made her stomach clench.

He looked tired.

Not just the physical exhaustion of coming down from a manic episode, but something deeper.

Something that made her afraid.

She pulled up a chair beside his bed, exhaling slowly.

"Dimmi la verità, Andrea," she said softly. "Quanto è stato brutto?"
(Tell me the truth, Andrea. How bad was it?)

Andrea let out a humorless laugh, leaning his head back against the pillows. "Non è stato poi così male."
(It wasn’t that bad.)

Carina shot him a look. "Non mentire."
(Don’t lie.)

His smirk faltered, just a little. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

"Va bene." He finally admitted. "Era… brutto."
(Fine. It was… bad.)

Carina felt something twist inside her chest, but she kept her expression neutral.

"Hai preso le medicine?" she pressed, already knowing the answer.
(Did you take your meds?)

Andrea groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. "Perché sempre con questa domanda?"
(Why always with that question?)

Carina’s jaw clenched. "Perché è l’unica cosa che potrebbe evitare tutto questo, Andrea!"
(Because it’s the only thing that could prevent all of this, Andrea!)

Andrea snapped his gaze to her, his frustration flashing. "Non è così semplice, Carina! Lo sai!"
(It’s not that simple, Carina! You know that!)

Carina inhaled sharply, gripping the armrest of her chair. She hated this. Hated fighting with him when all she wanted was to keep him safe.

Andrea sighed, running a hand through his messy curls. "Ascolta…" he started, his voice softer now. "Lo so che fa schifo. Lo so che ti fa preoccupare. Ma a volte… a volte voglio solo sentirmi me stesso, capisci?"
(Listen… I know this sucks. I know it makes you worry. But sometimes… sometimes I just want to feel like myself, you know?)

Carina’s throat tightened.

"Ma questo non sei tu, Andrea," she murmured. "Tu sei brillante. Sei testardo. Sei il medico più talentuoso che conosca. Ma quando smetti di prendere le medicine… perdi te stesso."
(But this isn’t you, Andrea. You are brilliant. You are stubborn. You are the most talented doctor I know. But when you stop taking your meds… you lose yourself.)

Andrea was silent for a long moment.

Then, finally, he looked at her. Really looked at her.

"Lo so."
(I know.)

Carina reached out, taking his hand in hers. She squeezed, grounding him, grounding herself.

"Per favore, fratellino," she whispered. "Non farmi perderti."
(Please, little brother. Don’t make me lose you.)

Andrea swallowed hard. His fingers curled slightly around hers.

"Ci proverò."
(I’ll try.)

It wasn’t a promise.

But it was something.

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

Maya had convinced herself that an evening grocery run would be the perfect distraction.

She needed to do something—something mindless, something ordinary, something that didn’t involve replaying the look on Carina’s face over and over again like a goddamn broken record.

So, there she was, wandering the aisles of an overpriced organic grocery store near her apartment, absently tossing things into her cart. Protein bars. Almond milk. A box of pasta she probably wouldn’t even cook.

Totally normal. Totally fine.

And then—

Maya stopped mid-step, blinking.

Because of course.

Because why wouldn’t the universe punish her just a little more today?

There, standing a few feet away, completely unaware of her surroundings, was Carina DeLuca.

And—Maya had to do a double take—Carina was stuffing her shopping cart to obscene levels.

Maya watched, equal parts amused and confused, as the Italian casually reached for a third box of flour, then tossed in an entire loaf of fresh bread on top of what already looked like a week’s worth of food for a small army.

Maya bit her lip to keep from laughing.

The normally put-together, slightly intimidating Carina DeLuca looked completely in her own world, muttering something under her breath in rapid Italian as she inspected a container of cherry tomatoes before throwing two of them into the already overflowing cart.

Maya leaned slightly closer, trying to listen.

"Hmm… meglio prenderne un altro, nel caso…"
(Hmm… better grab another one, just in case…)

And just like that, another box of tomatoes landed on top of a dangerously teetering pile of vegetables.

Maya couldn't help herself. A small chuckle slipped out before she could stop it.

Carina froze.

Maya immediately regretted making a sound, but it was too late. Carina turned, her sharp brown eyes locking onto Maya’s with a flicker of surprise.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then, finally, Carina arched an eyebrow. "You are following me now, sì?"

Maya smirked, crossing her arms. "Oh, yeah. Stalking you in the vegetable aisle was definitely my plan for the evening."

Carina huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head as she returned to stuffing even more groceries into her cart.

Maya couldn’t help but watch her, fascinated.

She had never seen Carina like this—so relaxed, so unfiltered. The usual poised, sharp-edged woman was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was this distracted, food-hoarding whirlwind in front of her, mumbling to herself in Italian while tossing absurd amounts of produce into her cart like it was a sport.

Maya tilted her head, curiosity getting the better of her. "Okay, I have to ask—are you stocking up for the apocalypse, or…?"

Carina rolled her eyes but didn’t stop what she was doing. "I cook when I am stressed. And today? Molto stress."

Maya felt something twist in her chest at that.

She knew why Carina was stressed. She knew that whatever had happened with her brother was weighing on her, even if she wasn’t talking about it.

And now, Maya regretted teasing her way more than before.

Still, she couldn't help but soften a little. "Well, at least whoever gets to eat your stress cooking is lucky as hell."

Carina finally looked at her again, something unreadable flickering in her gaze.

For a moment, Maya thought she might say something—something real, something about what had happened today.

But instead, Carina just gave a small, knowing smirk.

"You have no idea."

And with that, she turned back to her cart, leaving Maya standing there, feeling way more flustered than she should be in the middle of a grocery store.

Maya had zero intention of following Carina around the grocery store like some lovesick, curious golden retriever.

And yet.

There she was.

Trailing behind her, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, watching as Carina inspected a bundle of fresh basil like it was a precious artifact.

"So… what exactly are you making with all this?" Maya asked, nodding toward Carina’s comically overfilled cart.

Carina didn’t even look up. "Food."

Maya rolled her eyes. "Oh, great, super helpful, thanks."

Carina plucked a bag of pecorino from the shelf and placed it gently in the cart, before glancing at Maya with a smirk. "Pasta. Some chicken. Maybe risotto. Or lasagna." She shrugged. "Depends."

Maya whistled, impressed. "Wow. So, you do take your stress cooking seriously."

Carina arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I am Italian."

Maya couldn’t help but grin. "Right, right. I forgot you people basically treat cheese and olive oil like religion."

Carina gasped dramatically, clutching at her chest. "Madonna, you Americans—no respect!"

Maya laughed. It was so easy, the way they bantered. Even after everything that had happened earlier, even with that awkward tension still lingering in the air, Carina was just… fun.

Maya didn’t even realize she was still following her through the store until they reached the bakery section, and Carina turned suddenly, giving her a look.

"You have no groceries in your cart, Maya."

Maya blinked. She looked down. Sure enough, her cart was… gone. She had completely abandoned it somewhere back near the overpriced organic hummus section.

Carina folded her arms. "Are you following me because you want something?"

Maya hesitated for half a second too long.

Because, yes.

Yes, she did.

She wanted Carina to talk to her. She wanted to make up for earlier. She wanted to know more—about her, about her brother, about the way Carina’s face softened just the tiniest bit when she talked about cooking.

But saying that would make her seem completely unhinged, so instead, she went with:

"I just like to keep an eye on people who hoard absurd amounts of tomatoes."

Carina exhaled a sharp laugh, shaking her head.

Then, without looking at Maya, she reached for a fresh loaf of sourdough, casually dropping it into her cart before saying, "Do you want to eat dinner with me? Let me make it up to you for cancelling our meeting last night. We could go over our lines for tomorrow, if you want? I could use the company. "

Maya’s brain short-circuited.

"I—what?"

Carina finally looked at her, one eyebrow raised, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "I am making too much food anyway. And clearly, you have no dinner plans."

Maya opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Because this was not what she expected. Not after earlier. Not after the weird tension, the sharp words, the single tear she had stupidly caused.

“I am thinking of making lasagna, Maya.”

Carina was watching her now, lips twitching in amusement, like she knew she had just scrambled Maya’s brain.

And maybe she had.

Because Maya found herself mumbling, "I mean… sure. I guess I wouldn’t say no to lasagna."

Carina smirked. "Va bene. Then you can carry the bags."

Before Maya could even process what just happened, Carina turned and continued down the aisle, leaving Maya standing there, completely flustered, heart hammering for reasons that had nothing to do with the grocery store’s questionable lighting.

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

Maya did not expect that outcome tonight.

And yet, here she was.

Standing outside the grocery store, arms completely overloaded with bags of fresh produce, bread, and enough tomatoes to single-handedly supply a small Italian village for a week.

Carina, of course, carried a single bag.

A loaf of sourdough bread.

That was it.

"You did this on purpose," Maya grumbled, shifting the weight in her arms as they made their way toward the parking lot.

Carina hummed in amusement. "You agreed to come over, bella. That means you help."

"Yeah, help—not get turned into a damn packhorse," Maya huffed, adjusting a bag of potatoes before one nearly slipped out of her grasp.

Carina simply walked ahead, completely unbothered, tossing her keys effortlessly from one hand to the other as she led them toward her car.

Maya wasn’t paying attention at first, too busy trying to balance an absurd amount of groceries. But when they finally reached the car—when Carina casually pressed the key fob—Maya’s jaw nearly hit the pavement.

Because parked in front of her, sleek and shiny under the dim grocery store parking lights, was a black Porsche Cayenne.

"No freaking way," Maya blurted out. "This is yours?"

Carina barely spared her a glance as she popped the trunk. "Of course."

Maya’s eyes were still wide as she gawked at the luxury SUV. "Jesus, I knew TV doctors made good money, but—"

Carina smirked. "Who said I bought it with TV money?"

Maya’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait—so you're just naturally rich?"

Carina shrugged, which Maya was quickly learning was her default I enjoy watching you suffer move.

Maya groaned. "Oh, great. So not only are you talented and insanely good-looking, but you’re also rich? Fantastic. Amazing. Really love that for me."

Carina chuckled as she leaned against the car, watching with way too much amusement as Maya struggled to load the groceries into the trunk. "Flattery will not get you out of carrying everything inside, Maya."

"It was worth a shot," Maya grumbled, finally dropping the last bag into the trunk with an exaggerated sigh.

Carina smirked, clearly enjoying herself. "Come on. Get in."

Maya shot her a glare, but her face was still slightly flushed as she climbed into the passenger seat.

Because now, she wasn’t just heading to Carina’s place for dinner.

She was doing it while riding shotgun in a ridiculously expensive Porsche, with an even more ridiculously gorgeous woman who smelled like spice and something faintly floral.

Maya exhaled.

This was fine.

Totally fine.

If she just focused on the lasagna and not the fact that Carina’s hand was only inches from her thigh as she reached for the gear shift, everything would be totally normal.

Maya had made a mistake.

A huge mistake.

Because as Carina turned onto a private road leading into one of the richest neighborhoods Maya had ever seen, she felt her stomach drop.

The houses—no, mansions—were straight out of a luxury real estate magazine. Modern glass fortresses, sprawling estates with fountains, homes that had gates before the actual gates. Every single one of them screamed, you don’t belong here.

Maya shifted in her seat, her knee bouncing slightly as she cleared her throat. "So, uh… you live here?"

Carina, completely unfazed, kept her eyes on the road. "Mmhmm."

Maya swallowed. "Like… actually live here?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of Carina’s lips. "Would you like me to pull over and ask the neighbors for proof?"

Maya shot her a look. "No, I just—" She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face. "Jesus. I knew you were rich, but this? This is next-level."

Carina only hummed in response, as if she hadn’t just casually shattered Maya’s already fragile sense of belonging.

Maya sank further into the plush leather seat. This was a mistake. A huge mistake. She had let her stomach—and maybe some idiotic, flirty curiosity—lead her into a situation where she was wildly out of her depth.

What the hell was she doing here?

She was a former Olympic runner who barely scraped by after retiring from professional sports. She didn’t grow up with money. She didn’t even know anyone who lived in a place like this.

What if she embarrassed herself, again? What if she said something stupid, again?

What if she broke something that cost more than her entire apartment?

Carina, completely oblivious to Maya’s inner spiral, turned onto a long, secluded driveway that wound up a hill. They passed the last few massive estates, and then—suddenly—the neighborhood disappeared behind them.

The road became quieter, lined with towering trees, the air fresher, cooler. Maya could see city lights twinkling below as they ascended, but the noise, the excess, the overwhelming luxury of the gated community faded into the background.

And then—finally—they arrived.

Maya blinked in surprise.

She had expected another mansion, something sleek and cold and intimidating.

But instead, nestled among the trees, was a cozy, warm home.

It was still big—much bigger than anything Maya had ever lived in—but it didn’t scream obscene wealth. The exterior was a soft, earthy beige, with rustic wooden beams and wide windows framed by dark green shutters. A wraparound balcony overlooked the hillside, vines curling along the railings. A few dim outdoor lanterns glowed warmly, illuminating the driveway.

It looked like something out of a small Italian village—a place meant to be lived in, not just displayed.

Maya’s shoulders loosened slightly.

It wasn’t what she had expected.

Carina pulled into the driveway and parked, turning off the engine with a quiet sigh. She glanced at Maya, an amused glint in her eyes. "You look like you were expecting a castle."

Maya scoffed, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I mean, I was fully prepared to walk into one."

Carina chuckled, shaking her head. "Sorry to disappoint."

Maya stepped out of the car, inhaling deeply. The air smelled different up here—cleaner, fresher, with a faint hint of pine and something warm, like woodsmoke and herbs.

Carina grabbed a few of the lighter grocery bags and nodded toward the house. "Come on. I also have vino…"

Maya rolled her eyes but followed her up the stone path to the front door, still feeling slightly out of place, but…

Maybe not entirely unwelcome.

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

Maya had one job.

One simple, straightforward, idiot-proof job.

And she still managed to mess it up. What else is new?

Carina was humming softly as she moved around the kitchen, swaying slightly to the rhythm of whatever Italian song was playing in her head. The entire space smelled divine—garlic sizzling in olive oil, fresh herbs filling the air, something rich and savory simmering on the stove.

Maya had been given chopping duty.

Which should have been easy. Simple.

Except that Carina was right there, moving so gracefully, so effortlessly. The way her hands moved as she kneaded dough, the way her sleeves were rolled up just enough to expose her forearms—Maya was not proud of how much she was noticing all of it.

And the humming.

God, the humming was going to kill her.

It wasn’t just absentminded. No, Carina was humming in Italian. Some soft, sultry little melody that was probably about love or passion or something equally infuriating, and it was distracting.

So distracting that Maya didn’t even realize she had been holding the knife wrong until—

"Shit!"

The pain hit first. A hot, searing flash across her fingertip. Then came the sight of the blood—a lot of blood.

Carina turned instantly at Maya’s yelp, eyes widening as she saw Maya clutching her hand. The knife clattered to the counter.

"Che cazzo—Maya!"

Maya winced, gripping her finger, trying to keep the blood from dripping onto the pristine countertop. "It’s fine—just a scratch—"

Carina was already moving. "Let me see."

"It’s not that—"

Carina grabbed her wrist, tilting Maya’s hand up so she could inspect the damage.

Maya winced again. The cut was deep, too deep. Blood welled up fast, trickling down her finger, dripping onto her other hand.

Carina muttered something in rapid Italian that Maya didn’t understand, but she did understand the way Carina’s expression shifted from concern to pure exasperation.

"Fantastico," Carina sighed, shaking her head. "This needs stitches."

Maya groaned. "Oh, come on. It’s not that bad—"

"Maya, this is a deep laceration. You need stitches, or it won’t close properly."

Maya groaned louder, tilting her head back. "Ugh, can’t we just slap a bandage on it? Do we really need to make this an emergency?"

Carina rolled her eyes. "So dramatic. You act like I’m sending you into surgery."

Maya gave her a look. "Because I know what’s next. You’re going to make me call urgent care, and then they’re going to tell me to go to the ER, and then I’ll have to sit there for five hours with a bunch of other idiots who also failed basic knife skills—"

"Or," Carina interrupted, "you could just let me stitch it up here."

Maya blinked. "What?"

Carina smirked, dabbing at the wound with a towel. "I can fix it here. No hospital needed."

Maya squinted. "You mean, like… you just happen to have a suture kit lying around?"

"Of course I do."

"Of course you do," Maya muttered.

Carina ignored her and continued pressing on the wound. Her touch was firm but gentle, her fingers warm against Maya’s skin.

"Wait—how do you even know how to do stitches?" Maya asked, narrowing her eyes.

Carina arched an eyebrow. "Because I’m a doctor, Maya."

Maya blinked again. "Yeah, I know. You are a TV doctor—"

"No, like an actual doctor."

Maya’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

"WHAT?"

Carina huffed, already turning toward the cabinet to grab a first aid kit. "I have a medical degree. I was a practicing OB-GYN before I started consulting for the show."

Maya gaped. "You’re telling me you’re a real doctor? Like… legit? Licensed and everything?"

Carina smirked. "Would you like to see my diploma?"

Maya’s brain short-circuited. "You’ve just been… walking around the set… letting people believe you’re just a good actress?"

"I am a really good actress," Carina said, tossing her a wink.

Maya’s whole perception of reality started crumbling.

Carina DeLuca, the woman who drove a Porsche, who owned a secluded Italian dream house, who somehow managed to be both insanely gorgeous and impossibly intimidating—was also a damn doctor?

That was it. Game over. Maya officially had no chance.

"You’re freaking out," Carina noted, snapping Maya out of her daze.

"No," Maya lied. "I’m just… having an existential crisis."

Carina chuckled, rolling up her sleeves. "Come on, bella. Let’s get that finger stitched before you pass out."

Maya groaned again but followed her toward the bathroom. Because honestly? At this point, she was pretty sure Carina could tell her the sky was green, and she’d just nod along like an idiot.

Because clearly, Carina was full of surprises.

Maya really shouldn’t be finding this situation attractive.

She was sitting on the edge of Carina’s ridiculously luxurious bathroom counter, her injured hand resting in Carina’s as the woman calmly stitched her up like it was just another Tuesday.

And Maya? Maya was doing everything in her power not to focus on how close Carina was.

Her breath hitched slightly as she felt the delicate but firm press of fingers against her palm. Carina was so effortless about it—like she had done this a thousand times before. And she probably had. Her expression was focused, lips pursed slightly, dark eyes locked on the neat sutures she was threading with an expert hand.

Maya should have been paying attention to the pain, but instead, she was paying attention to her.

Which was a problem.

She needed a distraction—any distraction before she embarrassed herself further by swooning like a teenage girl.

"So," Maya blurted out, wincing slightly as Carina tightened a stitch. "What kind of doctor did you say you were again?"

Carina didn’t look up. "OB-GYN."

Maya snorted. "Of course you were."

That earned her a small smirk. "Why do you say it like that?"

Maya gave her a look. "Because it makes too much sense. You walking around set like you own the place, being all confident and flirty and mysterious and... knowing things. And now you’re telling me you literally spent your career studying the female body?"

Carina finally glanced up, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Do you have a problem with that, bella?"

Maya gulped. "Nope. No problem. Totally normal."

Carina chuckled as she clipped the last suture. "You do realize that means I also studied the female brain, sì?"

Maya raised an eyebrow. "How does an OB-GYN study the brain?"

Carina smirked as she reached for a bandage. "I specialized in sexual research. My last official study before I left medicine was actually quite interesting."

Maya, against her better judgment, took the bait. "Oh yeah? What was it about?"

Carina’s smirk widened. "I conducted a study to examine the effects of orgasms on women's brains to explore the potential of natural oxytocin as a pain relief method."

Maya actually choked.

"I—what?!"

Carina hummed, like she had just casually mentioned the weather. "The female brain is a magical place. It is fantastico to see how the female brain reacts to sexual pleasure in real-time. We had women stimulate themselves while inside an MRI machine to track the neurological response."

Maya blinked. "You… you—" She pointed at Carina. "—had women masturbate in an MRI machine?"

Carina nodded. "Mmmhmm."

Maya’s jaw dropped. "And people agreed to that?!"

Carina chuckled as she smoothed the bandage over Maya’s stitched-up finger. "You’d be surprised. Science is very important, Maya."

Maya opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

She wasn’t even bleeding anymore, but somehow, she felt lightheaded.

"You’re telling me you personally studied orgasms? Like… professionally?"

Carina tilted her head playfully. "Sì."

Maya let out a strangled sound.

"Jesus Christ."

Carina laughed.

"I even provided sex toys."

Maya, on the other hand, was not laughing. Because of course the universe had given her a crush on the world’s most interesting woman. Of course, Carina DeLuca wasn’t just gorgeous and confident and talented—no, she also had to be unfairly fascinating.

And the worst part?

Carina knew exactly what she was doing.

The Italian finished taping the bandage and gave Maya’s hand a small pat. "There. Good as new. Try not to cut yourself again, sì?"

Maya just stared at her.

Carina raised an eyebrow. "Maya? You look a little… how do you say? Flustered?"

"Oh, I don’t know, Carina," Maya deadpanned. "Maybe because you just casually told me you spent your medical career scientifically studying orgasms while threading a needle through my skin like some ridiculously hot Florence Nightingale?"

Carina smirked, standing up straighter. "Oh? You think I’m hot?"

Maya groaned, hopping off the counter. "That’s not the point."

Carina just gave her a knowing smile, wiping her hands on a towel.

Maya clenched her jaw.

Yeah. She was so screwed.