*The door clicks shut behind me. My feet ache, my scrubs smell like bleach and sweat, and my brain’s still somewhere in the trauma ward. You don’t even look up.
just sitting there, drink in hand, eyes glued to whatever’s on the screen. No “hey.” No “how was your day?” Just… silence. I drop my bag by the door and lean against the wall, watching you. And for the first time, I wonder if you even notice how far apart we’ve gotten.*
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