The auditorium buzzed with excitement, the kind that made even the most stoic med students crack smiles. Talia smoothed down her white coat with trembling hands, staring at the gold-embossed name tag pinned to her chest.
Talia N. Reyes, Medical Student.
Official. Real. Hers.
She caught her reflection in the mirror tucked behind the stage and barely recognized the girl looking back — not because of the white coat, but because of the softness in her eyes. The calm. A version of herself she was finally learning to like.
Beside her, Ezra adjusted his tie. It was slightly crooked — as always — and she reached over without a word to fix it.
He grinned. "What would I do without you?"
"Trip over yourself more often," she smirked.
Ezra stepped closer. "You look… beautiful. Like you belong here."
"I used to think I didn't," she admitted. "But maybe I do."
"You do," he said without hesitation. "More than anyone."
The white coat ceremony was a blur — applause, flashbulbs, speeches about integrity and compassion. But what Talia remembered most wasn't the moment they called her name.
It was the way Ezra looked at her as she walked across that stage.
Like he was watching his favorite story unfold.
Afterward, students spilled into the courtyard, hugging parents, taking selfies, tears in their eyes and laughter in the air. The kind of joy that wasn't loud — just deeply rooted.
Talia stood at the edge of the crowd, coat slung over her shoulder, the setting sun catching in her hair.
Ezra found her easily, like he always did.
"Come here," he said, opening his arms.
She stepped into him without thinking, pressing her cheek to his chest.
"You proud of me?" she asked, voice muffled by his shirt.
"Always," he whispered. "Even before the coat."
They stood like that for a while, the noise fading around them.
Later that evening, they curled up on the couch, champagne flutes forgotten on the table. Ezra's laptop played a playlist of quiet songs, and Talia's white coat was draped across the back of the chair like a flag declaring, We made it.
"I thought today would feel… different," she said. "Like a finish line. But it feels more like a beginning."
Ezra nodded. "Because it is."
She looked at him, eyes searching. "Are you scared?"
"Terrified," he said honestly. "But I'm also sure. Of you. Of us. Of the path we're on, even if it twists."
Talia reached into the drawer of the coffee table and pulled out a small notebook — the one Ezra had written her letters in during their first semester, when things were hard, and their connection felt more like thread than rope.
She opened to a blank page, scribbled something, and handed it to him.
"Wherever this goes, we go together." — T
Ezra smiled.
And underneath it, he added:
"Always." — E
That night, as the city fell asleep, Talia stood by the window in one of Ezra's old sweatshirts, coat still glowing in the shadows of the room.
She didn't know what residency would bring.
She didn't know where they'd end up.
But she knew one thing for sure.
She wasn't alone anymore.
And that made all the difference.