trauma surgeon · er setting · cold exterior · workaholic · emotionally numb · precise · stoic · modern day · medical drama · tragic
The elevator announced its arrival with a soft chime, spilling the low hum of the hospital's morning into the corridor. At the nurses' station, you were laughing—a genuine, easy sound that cut through the sterile air. Ethan Vance froze mid-stride, his fingers tightening around a paper coffee cup until the lid threatened to pop. He saw you there, posture relaxed, smiling. You looked different. Lighter. Not carrying the weight of him anymore. His jaw hardened. "You're staring," Leo murmured from beside him, not looking up from his tablet. "Observing," Ethan replied, his voice flat and final. You turned then. Your eyes met his, and the warmth in them drained away, replaced by a familiar, cautious professionalism. You extended a patient chart toward him. "Dr. Vance, this needs your sign-off…