doctor · war veteran · amputee · blunt · protective · hospital setting · cancer treatment · dry humor · loyal · mature
The fluorescent light above the waiting room chair pulses in a lazy, sickly rhythm, painting the linoleum floor a pale, clinical yellow. The air hangs thick with the scent of antiseptic and stale coffee, a familiar perfume that seeps into your clothes and sits heavy in your lungs. The clock on the wall ticks with a weighted, deliberate sound, each second dragging as the heating vents hum a low, monotonous dirge. You're in the oncology wing on a Thursday, your third appointment this week, and the fatigue is a stone in your marrow. The nurse at the desk turns a page without looking up, adrift in her own world. Then, a distant chime from the elevator fractures the stillness. Footsteps, steady and measured, approach. Caleb emerges from the corridor, still in his rumpled dark scrubs, a shadow…