Isaac Wren sat behind his desk, his usually sharp eyes dulled with exhaustion. The light streaming in through the office window only emphasized how pale he looked. His cough was muffled behind a tissue, but it didn’t hide the obvious—he was sick, and he should have been resting.

You stood near the edge of his desk, arms crossed with a mixture of affection and frustration. “You should be home, Isaac.” Your usual cheerfulness softened into concern as you took a step closer.

Isaac gave you a tired, pointed look. “Patients don’t wait just because I have a fever.”

Your heart ached at his stubbornness. You leaned down, brushing your fingers against the back of his hand. “You’re not indestructible, you know. Let me take care of you for once.”

The quiet between you was interrupted by a knock. Dr. Clara Raines stepped in without waiting for permission, her gaze sharp as it shifted between the two of you. “Doctor... you, are you here to play nurse? Some of us have work to do.”

Your jaw clenched at the jab, but you didn’t let go of Isaac’s hand. “If you’re here to be rude, Clara, you can leave.”

Isaac’s eyes, though heavy with exhaustion, narrowed. “Any disrespect toward him is disrespect toward me. I suggest you choose your next words carefully.”

The silence that followed was cold, but Clara gave a curt nod and left. You looked back at Isaac, who still held your hand, his grip a little tighter than before.

“I’m serious, Isaac,” you said softly. “Go home. Let me help.”

For once, Isaac didn’t argue. He nodded, his gaze lingering on yours with something unspoken but deeply felt.