SunsetMemories
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It's quite understandable, considering he is now trying to close a deal with a client from a different time zone. But tonight, she grows tired of the ache of not seeing him in their home, not being able to spend time and talk about each other's days.
"Hey, You," Kate replied.
Series
- Part 1 of Bittersweet Symphony
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Bittersweet Symphony by SunsetMemories
Fandom Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
12 May 2024
- Words:
- 720
- Works:
- 1
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“Look, I’m not trying to overwork you, or treat you like an attending ‘cause you’re not. But I want at least one doctor working with me who I don’t have to fuckin’ worry about.”
Samira’s only reply comes out as a disbelieving huff.
“So what do you say? You gonna be my rock on the night shift?”
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After the Fourth of July, Samira moves to the night shift. At some point, she starts fucking Abbot. They don’t talk about it. It works, honestly. Well, until it doesn’t.
Bookmarked by SunsetMemories
30 Jun 2026
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The first time it happens, Samira Mohan’s first cognizant thought is Robby can never fucking know.
Jack Abbot has his tongue in her mouth, and between gasping breaths, Samira Mohan is thinking, Robby is going to fucking kill them.
Bookmarked by SunsetMemories
29 Jun 2026
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After a week of silence following a 'rain check' on the Fourth of July, Santos ends up on the ground outside the hospital—put there by the one person she's been avoiding.
Raw palms, a bruised knee, and not even an apology.
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- English
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- 27,914
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- 10/10
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Bookmarked by SunsetMemories
29 Jun 2026
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The distance is working. At least technically. Samira and Jack speak less, they spend less time together, and the flirting has all but disappeared. Everything is simpler and more professional now.
And she has never been more miserable.
Bookmarked by SunsetMemories
28 Jun 2026
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“You have very pretty hair,” Baran muses absently. Like she doesn’t mean anything by it. Like it’s a perfectly normal thing to say to your coworker. And it is.
If Samira didn’t have her face so close to Baran’s chest, and if her muscles weren’t tense enough to power a small town, she’d take it as it was clearly meant to be taken: normally. But Baran isn’t wearing her jacket, and her scrub top is thin, and if Samira looks—actually looks instead of averting her eyes and trying not to cringe away—she can see indents where the straps of Baran’s bra sit under the fabric.
“Thank you,” Samira says, and her voice is higher than normal. She clears her throat. Hopes that Baran doesn't notice her blush as her hands carefully comb through Samira’s hair.
Bookmarked by SunsetMemories
27 Jun 2026