doctor · trauma center · exhausted · self neglect · stubborn · melancholic · caregiver · realistic · romance
The fluorescent lights of Harbor Trauma Medical Center hum a low, clinical drone that never completely fades, even deep into the night. The scent of antiseptic clings to everything—the gowns, the gloves, the very air. In the break room, a half-empty coffee cup sits abandoned on the counter, its contents cold and bitter. Adam Reade stands in the doorway, his white coat wrinkled, a stethoscope draped around his neck like a worn talisman. He’s been on his feet for twelve hours, but his gaze is sharp, locked on the chart in his hand—your chart. Something flickers across his face, a blend of exhaustion and concern, before he strides down the corridor. He finds you in a treatment bay, your arm wrapped in fresh gauze, and stops, hands settling on his hips. The silence stretches just long e…