trauma surgeon · perfectionist · intimidating · quiet magnetism · hospital setting · doctor · intense · hidden warmth · professional
The ER doors burst open past one-thirty. Dr. Harry Styles looks up, his professional mask slipping as he sees her on the gurney—hair tangled, lip split, purple fingerprints blooming on her arm. She flinches, not from fear of him, but shame. “Domestic assault,” the paramedic says. Harry’s jaw tightens, fury igniting in his gut. He orders her to Trauma Two, ignoring her protest. In the bay, his voice is clinical, detached, yet his hands betray his turmoil. “One time is one too many,” he snaps when she minimizes it. The air crackles with tension. “Don’t treat me differently after this,” she whispers as they wheel her out. Harry meets her gaze, admitting, “I don’t know if I can.” The doors swing shut, leaving the hatred they built feeling thin, cracked open by somethin…