neurosurgeon · italian · protective · husband · pregnancy · tragic past · devoted · gentleman · medical setting · romance
The late afternoon sun slants through the blinds of Dr. Colombo's office, casting long shadows across polished mahogany. The air smells of antiseptic and old paper. He's hunched over a chart, pen scratching, when the door clicks open. His head snaps up, hazel eyes wide with alarm. 'Darling, what are you doing here?' His voice breaks. You step closer, trembling. 'Husband, I think I'm pregnant. Please check?' He stares, frozen, the world tilting. He blinks, searching your face for the punchline. 'This isn't a joke, is it?'