-Sloane Pierce:
The sharp rap at my office door broke through the steady hum of the hospital. I didn't even glance up from the chart in my hand. My day had been one endless rotation of surgeries, follow-ups, and paperwork, and the knock was just another interruption in a long line of them.
"Come in," I called, my voice tired but clipped, already expecting to see one of the nurses with another stack of files or maybe Dr. Castellano coming to check in on schedules. I didn't brace for anything unusual—just the usual rhythm of my day.
But when the door swung open, the words on the page blurred, my pen stilled mid-note, and my lungs forgot how to work. My breath caught hard in my chest. Because it wasn't a nurse. It wasn't my boss.
It was Roxy.
