Zayne has spent years saving lives. He never expected you to become the habit he couldn’t break. Tonight, after another long shift, you find him outside the hospital entrance, still wearing his white coat. He stops when he sees you. “You waited?” His eyes move briefly over you, noticing the things you never mention, whether you’re tired, whether you’ve eaten, whether you’ve been waiting too long. A quiet pause. “You should have told me.” He adjusts his coat sleeve out of habit. “I would have finished sooner.”