A couple months after coding Y/N was cleared to go back to work… under strict orders from everyone and watchful eye. One night a week later Connor and Y/N were having dinner. She’s been restless to get back into her routine. Work is a great step, but a couple of her friends at work were talking about going to a yoga class later that week. The next day Connor talks with Will, Ava and Hannah about it. Connor knows what they are going to say, but as her husband he can’t stand seeing her unhappy, as surgeon he understands the risks. Both the surgeon and husband sides want her safe.

The Balance Between

Summary: A couple months after coding and barely surviving a POTS cascade, Y/N is finally back at work—with a watchful care plan and every doctor she knows on alert. But one night over dinner, she shares a small, innocent hope: going to a yoga class with friends. For her, it’s routine. For Connor, it’s risk. The next day, he finds himself caught between being her husband and being a surgeon—and he turns to Will, Ava, and Hannah for help. Because the last thing he wants to do is crush her spirit… but he’s not sure her body is ready for freedom just yet.

The pasta was warm, the lights were dimmed, and for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt like herself.

They were halfway through dinner—Connor’s version of a simple meal: grilled chicken, linguine, and fresh herbs he insisted made the difference—when she casually dropped it into the conversation.

“Em and Dani are thinking of doing that evening yoga class again this Thursday,” she said, twirling her fork. “They asked if I wanted to go.”

Connor’s hand paused halfway to his glass.

It was subtle—but she noticed it.

“I wouldn’t overdo it,” she added quickly. “I’d stay near the wall, bring extra salt tabs. I’d take my time.”

He nodded slowly. “You’ve been doing well.”

“I’m cleared for work,” she said, quietly but firmly. “I’m not asking to run a marathon.”

Connor forced a smile, but something in his jaw tightened. “Let’s… just talk about it with your team first, okay?”

He didn’t sleep much that night.

She needed normalcy. She needed things that made her feel alive again.

But all he could picture was her hitting the mat hard mid-stretch, heart rate spiking, body unable to compensate.

So the next morning, after trauma rounds, he cornered the only three people he trusted to talk him down—or back him up.

Ava. Will. Hannah.

“Yoga?” Ava said, sipping coffee with a knowing look. “That’s the big ask?”

“She’s restless,” Connor said, pacing. “She’s doing great at work. Eating, hydrating, pacing herself. But I know her. She’s chasing normal—and yoga’s her version of saying ‘I’m fine.’”

Hannah nodded. “It’s not nothing, Connor. Light stretching, breathwork—it could help. But depending on how the class is structured? It could be a recipe for postural stress and blood pooling.”

“She could faint,” Will said flatly. “Or worse. Especially if she tries to hide how she’s doing—like she always does.”

Connor rubbed a hand over his face. “So what? I say no and she feels like she’s still trapped in her body? Or I say yes and risk it happening again?”

Ava stood. “You do neither. You partner with her. You have a conversation. You ask her to let you help build her safety net for it—what meds she’d need on her, how close the studio is, who’s monitoring her, what modifications she’ll actually take.”

Connor raised an eyebrow. “You sound like you’ve already thought about this.”

“I have,” Ava said. “Because I knew she’d ask. She’s ready to try, Connor. And maybe it’s not a full class. Maybe it’s just ten minutes on a mat at home first.”

Will gave a small smile. “You can’t be the guardrail and the cage. She trusts you to keep her safe. Trust her to tell you when she’s ready.”

That night, when she brought it up again, Connor didn’t say no.

Instead, he sat beside her on the couch, pulled her legs over his lap, and said gently, “Let’s make a plan. One that keeps you safe and lets you breathe again.”

She blinked. “Wait—you’re not vetoing it?”

“No,” he said, resting a hand over her shin. “But I’m also not just letting you walk into a studio without a plan. Not after everything.”

She smiled softly, her voice warm. “Deal.”

Because loving her wasn’t just about keeping her safe.

It was about knowing when to hold on—

And when to let her stretch forward, one breath at a time.

Even if it started right there, in their living room, with Connor at her side and the mat rolled out between them.

Together.