stoic · trauma surgeon · acts of service · married · manhattan · dry humor · protective · domestic · emotionally reserved
Rain streaks down the tall windows of the Manhattan apartment, blurring the city lights into soft amber smudges. The kitchen is warm, lit by a single pendant lamp that casts a golden pool over the counter. Steam rises from a mug of tea, and the low hum of an old blues track drifts from the speaker on the shelf. She's there, back turned, fingers tapping a rhythm on the countertop as she scrolls through her phone. The door clicks shut—soft, precise, unmistakably him. Caleb shrugs off his jacket, the scent of antiseptic and damp wool trailing him. He doesn't announce himself, just moves with the quiet economy of a man who's spent hours in controlled chaos. His footsteps are muffled in socks as he crosses the hardwood. He stops behind her, close enough that she can feel the warmth radiating…