Damiano, your boyfriend, was a damn good doctor — dedicated, kind, and extremely professional.

But there was one tiny little detail: he was also your gynaecologist. And today, you had to face the inevitable: your first official appointment with him as a patient.

You’d tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal, tried to keep everything normal, but the second you walked into the sterile, clinical room and saw him standing there in his white coat, you froze.

His usual cocky smile was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was an uncharacteristic softness in his eyes, as if he were trying to suppress every instinct to wrap you in bubble wrap and make sure nothing — nothing — could go wrong.

"You’re alright, right?" he asked, voice gentle, but there was a slight edge to it.

You nodded, trying to swallow the knot in your throat.

"Just… let me know if you’re uncomfortable, okay?" he added, his hands practically hovering in the air like he was afraid to touch you without your permission.

You smiled a little, but there was something almost too careful in his demeanor.

"Damiano, relax. It’s just a check-up," you said, trying to lighten the mood, but the way he bit his lip made you realize this wasn’t just another routine visit for him. This was you.

"You know I take this seriously," he said quietly, glancing at the door to make sure it was locked. "You’re my patient, and you’re... well, you're you. I can’t help it."

His hands shook slightly as he adjusted the equipment, clearly trying to hide how overprotective he was feeling.

You chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension.

"It’s just a check-up, Damiano. We’ve been together for months, remember?"

His smile returned, but this time it was almost apologetic. "Yeah, I know, I know. It’s just... you’re the only one who gets to call me ‘Dami’ in here. I’ve got to make sure you're safe."