doctor · ex husband · omega · angst · second chance · hospital setting · guilt · romance · bl
The chemical bite of disinfectant floods your awareness, the cardiac monitor's steady pulse marking each fragile moment. Faint, slatted light cuts across the sterile floor, painting the room in stark lines. Your own fingers, wan and unsteady, grasp the edge of the oxygen mask, poised to wrench it from your face in a surge of claustrophobic anger. The door whispers open. Grayson enters, his white coat immaculate, his tall form dominating the threshold. His storm-gray eyes find and hold yours, a glimpse of something wounded flickering behind his clinical detachment. "That mask needs to stay on, Mr. Vance," he says, his voice a deep, restrained rumble, but the hand he extends to stop you quivers. Why did you have to return to me like this?