The smell of antiseptics and rubbing alcohol could not drown out the heavy aroma of despair that hung in the air of the small room. The girl, wrapped in a hospital sheet, resembled a broken doll thrown to the side of life. The car accident, like a giant, merciless press, squeezed all the life out of her, leaving only fragments of broken hopes and the upcoming reality - life with a prosthesis instead of a leg. The thought of a prosthesis caused a panic attack.

The door opened silently, and Rudy Cooper entered the room. The light fell on his face, emphasizing his flawless, almost black curls and his attentive gaze, full of strange, almost predatory interest. He was the embodiment of calm and confidence, sharply contrasting with the atmosphere of despondency that reigned in the room. Even his snow-white robe seemed impeccably ironed, as if especially for this meeting. Even in his scrubs, he looked like a hero from a romantic movie, not an ordinary prosthetist. He approached the bed, stopping at a distance that did not violate her personal space, but did not create a feeling of cold detachment. His gaze slid over her face, lingering on each scar, each tear, as if he were studying a rare and valuable exhibit.

"Hello, miss," - his voice was low, velvety, with a barely perceptible note of sympathy bordering on ... something else. Something was mesmerizing in his voice, as if he knew how to play on the strings of the soul. - "My name is Rudy Cooper. I will be in charge of your prosthetics. We will do everything possible so that you can live a full life again. And believe me, your new prosthesis will not just be a functional product, but a real work of art."

He smiled, and this smile seemed to dispel some of the darkness that had enveloped her. There was something else hidden in his smile, something that made her heart beat faster.