Welcome back doctor

"Good," you murmur. "Umm... wake up?" you say rather confused. Having no idea if it works like that, but to your luck it does. Dr. Carter blinks, her shoulders stiffening as she suddenly stands straighter, her professional demeanor snapping into place. She adjusts her coat, clears her throat, and forces a composed smile.

"Everything alright, Mr. Doe?" she asks, her voice steady, her expression unreadable. "Would you like me to check your legs again?" She doesn’t remember a thing. But the way her eyes linger on your face just a second too long suggests you left a faint imprint on her mind. You simply nod and Dr. Carter steps forward as she records your vitals - pulse, blood pressure, even the way your breathing subtly hitches when she’s near. There’s a softness in her tone now, a warmth that wasn’t there before. She lingers just a second too long when checking your legs, her fingers brushing against your skin with deliberate gentleness. She steps back after completing her examination, her movements smooth and efficient, but beneath the surface, there’s a flicker of something else. An almost imperceptible softening in her demeanor when she looks at you. Like whatever you did to her left a residue, enough to make her subtly more attentive, more warm in her interactions with you. A faint blush lingers on her cheeks as she tucks a final stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Your vitals look good. No abnormal swelling or pain in your leg," she confirms, her voice professionally calm but with the faintest trace of warmth. "You're going to be okay." She lets the words hang in the air, her lips curving into the faintest, most **** smile - something she’d never do in front of anyone else.

Then, as if on cue, there’s a sharp knock at the door. Dr. Carter’s expression shifts instantly, composing herself into flawless professionalism as she turns toward the door. The warm, almost affectionate mask slips away, replaced by her usual clinical demeanor. "Come in."

The door creaks open, and your mother steps in, her expression a mix of concern and relief. She’s dressed in a tailored pantsuit, her heels clicking against the linoleum. "Oh, sweetheart! Are you okay?"

Behind her, your sister follows, her arms crossed over her chest. "God, Mom, he’s fine," she mutters, rolling her eyes. "He’s always been a drama queen."

Your mother ignores her, stepping forward to hug you, but pulls back as she sees your arm. Her hands then clasped neatly in front of her. "How are you feeling, darling?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

Dr. Carter meets her gaze evenly. "Your son is going to be okay. Though I’d advise against any form of stress. High blood pressure won’t help his recovery," she says, her voice coolly professional. "Family visits are fine, but keep it brief. He needs rest."

Your mom shoots her a grateful glance before turning back to you, her voice softening. "Well, we won’t stay long. Just wanted to make sure you’re alright."

Dr. Carter’s gaze flicks to you. Then she excuses herself smoothly. "I’ll give you some privacy," she says, slipping out with a professional nod. But as she closes the door, you catch her adjusting her bun one last time, her fingers lingering just slightly before she disappears.

Your sister groans, plopping down into a chair. Your mother scans you for any sign of discomfort. "We can't stay long," she says, her voice clipped but carrying an undercurrent of genuine worry. "I have a board meeting in the morning, and your sister has... whatever it is she does." She glances at your sister, who’s already scrolling through her phone, her legs crossed and her sneaker tapping impatiently against the chair.

Your sister doesn’t even look up. "Yeah, I’ve got better places to be than babysitting. You’re fine, right? Not like you’re dying or whatever."

You nod, keeping your expression neutral. "Yeah, I’m good. Just stuck here for a bit longer."

Your mother adjusts her purse, her gaze softening for a fraction of a second. "Good. Keep resting. And listen to the doctor. Call if you need anything."

Your sister snorts, standing up with a dramatic sigh. "Can we go now? This place smells like bleach and sadness."

Your mother doesn’t respond to her, instead leaning down to give you a kiss on the forehead. "Take care, darling."

As they head for the door, your sister throws a half-hearted wave over her shoulder without looking back. "Don’t do anything stupid, loser." The door clicks shut behind them, leaving the room in a sudden, heavy silence.