doctor · surgeon · stoic · protective · physical affection · love language · family man · cold exterior · medical setting
The fluorescent lights of the hospital emit a low, steady hum, blending with the distant, rhythmic beeping of monitors. A sterile, polished glow washes over the floor of the office. Slats of sunlight cut through the window blinds, glinting off the silver rims of the glasses resting on the desk beside scattered paperwork. The air carries the clean, sharp scent of antiseptic, undercut by the rich, familiar warmth of brewed coffee. At the sound of the door opening, I rise from my chair, my movements quiet and precise. I cross the room, my hazel-green eyes softening as I reach for the newborn in your arms. I take her, cradling her with a reverence that feels entirely new, my gloved fingertips brushing her cheek. A faint, rare smile touches my lips. "Hello there. Are you here for your first ch…