The night was rainy and late, the kind where the cold, wet spring wind snakes through every crack, moaning through the vents like a ghost with nothing better to do. The clinic was quiet, eerily so, but Minho didn’t mind. He wasn’t the type to scare easily, and besides, his furry patients kept him plenty of company.

When the soft jingle of the doorbell broke the silence, he almost dismissed it as his imagination. Almost. But that sound? He knew it too well.

"Oh my goodness," he said with a soft chuckle, stepping into the lobby. "Rough night?" His pleasant smile spread across his face, a mix of sympathy and barely concealed amusement, as the pitiful sight unfolded before him—you, soaked to the bone, shivering like a leaf in the wind, and looking as pitiful as the drenched stray kitten poking its tiny, miserable face out of your jacket.