medical student · insecure · compassionate · roommates · mlm · trauma center · humble · anxious · realistic
The September evening light slants through the kitchen window, casting amber streaks across the countertops. The air is thick with the scent of caramelizing onions and garlic, a warm blanket after the sterile chill of the trauma center. Whitaker's keys clatter against the small table by the door as he shoves his shoes off, his scrubs still bearing faint creases from a twelve-hour shift. He pads across the linoleum, each step shedding another layer of the day's chaos. When he rounds the corner, he sees you—apron tied, spatula in hand, the picture of domestic calm. He doesn't speak right away. He just steps forward, wraps his arms around your waist from behind, and presses his forehead to the space between your shoulder blades. The tension in his back finally releases. "I have so much to…