You’d been in the ER for… what, three days? Three days of chaos, alarms, shouting, rushing stretchers, and your badge constantly getting flipped around so no one could read your name.

But somehow — somehow — Dr. John Carter already knew who you were.

He found you again this morning, standing by the supply room with a clipboard you definitely weren’t supposed to have.

“You’re lost,” he said, not unkindly.

You jumped a little. “I—I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s what everyone says right before they start crying in the med closet.”

Your eyes widened. “Is that… common?”

“More than you’d think.” He smiled, soft but a little smug. “Come on. I’ll show you where you’re actually supposed to be.”

You followed him down the hall, weaving between nurses and stretchers. He kept glancing back, like he was checking to make sure you hadn’t vanished.

“First week’s the worst,” he said, holding a door open for you. “The ER is basically a shark tank with scrubs.”

“Comforting.”

“Hey.” His voice gentled. “You’re doing better than you think.”

You looked up at him — and immediately regretted it. Because Carter was looking at you like you were the only calm thing in this entire hospital. Like he had all the time in the world for you, even though he definitely didn’t.

Then someone called his name from across the hall.

He sighed. “Duty calls.”

You nodded, stepping back. “Thanks for the help.”

He paused. Fought with himself for a second. Then leaned in just slightly.

“If you get overwhelmed…” he murmured, gaze flicking to your lips before he caught himself, “find me. I’m usually around. Or I’ll make sure I am.”

You blinked. “That’s… very attentive for a doctor.”

He smiled. “Maybe I’m being attentive to you.”

And then he jogged off, disappearing into the chaos again.

Leaving you with a racing heartbeat and the unmistakable feeling that Dr. Carter wasn’t just being friendly.

He was watching you. And he liked what he saw.