Page 73 of The Love Operation

“No, you’re not hearing me.” He looks at me, eyes cold. “I think you really should find someone else. Someone who wants this life. Because I don’t.”

His words hit like a slap.

“You . . .” My throat swells. “You want to break up?”

He doesn’t flinch. “For a surgeon, you can be pretty dense sometimes.” He exhales. “Yes, Cordelia, I want to break up.” And with that, his face relaxes, like a weight has finally lifted.

Then he turns and walks out of the room.

A door slams.

I jolt upright in my own bed, my own room. The memory of the door slamming reverberates in my chest.

My stomach is sick. The disappointment is sharp and raw.

I spent months believing we were building something real—only to realize I’d invested in someone who never wanted to build anything with me.

Jonathan Spencer wasn’t the right man. But it wasn’t me he didn’t want—it was my life. He didn’t want to date a surgeon. He didn’t want to date a woman with a demanding career.

I need to be sure I’m not jumping to conclusions. This was one bad night, yes—but was there a pattern?

I close my eyes and rewind.

The car show the weekend before. A trip to the Hamptons with his friends. A golf tournament that nearly bored me to death. I’d smiled through all of it. Endured it because it mattered to him. But every time I pull up a memory where we did something I cared about, I notice his face was strained.

The more I rewind, the more I see it—his disinterest, his detachment, the way he seemed to endure me instead of enjoy me.

Relief bursts in my chest like a Mylar balloon stabbed through with a knife. I made sacrifices. He resented being asked to do the same.

And just like that, I feel lighter.

This plan is working. It’s leading me to the answers I need.

When I’m done with this analysis, it’s 8 p.m. I skipped lunch and dinner and didn’t even notice. There are multiple unread texts on my phone and two missed calls, none of which I heard.

I’ve spent the whole day with a man who never really wanted to be with me, and I’ve ignored the man who does.

I pull up Isaac’s text.

Isaac: I miss you.

Chapter 18

Optimizing My Ass

The next day, I’m up early, ready to kick Monday in the face. For the first time in a while, I feel like things are under control, despite a mild headache. I still have lots of work to do because one data point can’t be used to extrapolate meaningful results, but I feel like I’m on the edge of something good. Analyzing my relationship with Jonathan was enlightening in a way I hadn’t expected.

I feel good about Isaac, about my chances for chief, and about Delenn’s research. I even feel confident that things will smooth over with my family.

My intense initial reaction to my parents’ retirement is fading. By focusing on Isaac, work, and the experiment, I’m getting distance and perspective, something my memory explorations are also teaching me. I’m not over it, but I’m trying to see my parents’ decision from their point of view. I still think this is a phase, but I’ve realized the smartest move might be to sit back and wait. Pushing them only backfires and further alienates us.

So for now, I’m letting the dust settle—acting like I’m more okay with it than I am—and creating space when I can’t say what they want to hear. Luckily, pulling back is easy with everything else I have going on right now, and while I’m not sure my parents are buying my new “acceptance,” I think my siblings are. They just want everything to be fine, so they don’t look too hard.

I make it to the hospital extra early, and almost immediately run into a scowling Dahlia.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Did you check your email?” she asks.