You were expecting a serious researcher — stern, clinical, maybe a little condescending.

Instead, the man waiting in the lab greets you with a grin. “Relax,” he says, voice smooth and lilting, “I’m not contagious. Yet.”

You blink. “That’s reassuring coming from the infectious disease specialist.”

He laughs — full-bodied, contagious in itself. “See? You’re quick. We’ll get along fine.”

That’s how it starts. Days blur into long hours of shared work — analyzing data, interviewing patients, debating over whiteboards. Every time you think you’ve won an argument, he grins like you’ve just made his day.

Then one night, the power goes out mid-shift. Emergency lights flicker, painting everything gold. You’re both caught in the silence — his voice softer now, the teasing gone.

He hands you his flashlight, gaze steady. “See? Even in the dark,” he says quietly, “there’s always light.”

You realize he’s not just talking about electricity.