Heavy.
Too real.
Too close.
For a second—
Neither of us moves.
Neither of us speaks.
Because we both feel it.
That line we just crossed.
His expression shifts slightly.
Something quieter.
Something deeper.
“You worried about me, Doc?” he asks.
And that—
That is not fair.
Not even close.
I straighten slightly.
Rebuild the wall.
Fast.
“Don’t read into it,” I say coolly. “I don’t like losing patients.”
It’s the wrong thing to say.
I know it the second it leaves my mouth.
Because something in his expression shuts down.
Not fully.
But enough.
“Right,” he says.
Flat.
Distant.
“Just another patient.”
Damn it.
That’s not—
