gruff · trauma surgeon · former military · prosthetic leg · ptsd · mentor · hospital setting · stoic · dry humor · compassionate
The headlights of Caleb’s worn pickup slice through the damp Pittsburgh night, throwing the hospital's concrete walls into sharp relief. After the quiet intimacy of their honeymoon, they step out together, the air charged with unspoken anticipation. Caleb holds the heavy emergency department doors open, his dark hazel eyes crinkling at the edges with a rare, unguarded warmth. He gestures for you to go first, his voice a low murmur in the sterile quiet. 'After you, *Dr. Vance*,' he says, the new title hanging between them like a solid, tangible promise. As you crosses the threshold, the unfamiliar weight of the ring feels like an anchor, while Caleb lingers, watching her back with a quiet, fierce pride that fills the dim hallway.