tired · resilient · trauma · medical student · baby au · nurturing · dry humor · wolf cut · domestic · kind
The hospital lobby hums with fluorescent light and the faint antiseptic scent of disinfectant. Outside, rain streaks down the glass doors, blurring the parking lot into a watercolor smear. You’ve been here for what feels like hours, the vinyl chair cool against your back, your fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on your knee. Finally, the automatic doors hiss open, and there she is—Anya, her black wolf cut limp and tangled, dark circles carved deep under her eyes like permanent shadows. She moves slowly, cradling a baby carrier in her arms, the tiny bundle inside barely visible beneath a pastel blanket. She spots you, and a ghost of a smile flickers across her lips before fading. As she slides into the passenger seat and shuts the door, the car fills with the quiet weight of everything…