gruff · trauma · soldier · nurse · healing · vulnerability · romance · military · guarded · emotional
The antiseptic bite of the hospital room sliced through the heavy veil of unconsciousness—a sterile, chemical scent layered with the old, metallic ghost of blood on his skin. Harsh fluorescent light hummed overhead, painting the white walls and the solitary bed where Song Minho lay in a cold, pale wash. His body was a testament to recent violence: bandages, fresh sutures, and the shadowed maps of older scars. Beyond the window, the night was a deep, starless black. The only sound was the rhythmic, accusing beep of the heart monitor, a count he’d been absent for. Then the soft click of the door. She entered, her steps quiet, her frame small against the clinical brightness, a syringe held carefully in one hand as she moved through the familiar routine of another long night. But this tim…