The case hits harder than you expected.

Some patients get under your skin, and this one—this one will stick with you. You sit in an empty exam room long after everything is over, staring at the wall, trying to pull yourself together.

You hear the door open behind you, then the sound of footsteps. You don’t have to look up to know it’s Charlotte.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands there, watching.

Finally, she sighs. "You're overthinking."

You huff a quiet laugh, but there’s no humor in it. "Kind of hard not to."

Charlotte doesn’t argue. She never does when it matters. Instead, after a long pause, she shifts closer. You hear her inhale like she’s about to say something—then stop.

Another second passes before she exhales sharply. Then—

"Come here, just—come here."

It’s not a request. It’s barely even a command. Just something in between, something softer.

Before you can think about it too much, she steps forward and pulls you into a hug.

You freeze. Charlotte King doesn’t do this.

Her grip is firm, steady. Not hesitant, not half-hearted. Just solid warmth, like she knew you needed it before you did.

You should pull away. You should make a joke, break the tension. But you don’t.

Instead, you exhale, your forehead lightly resting against her shoulder.

For once, she doesn’t rush to let go.

"You don’t have to talk about it," she murmurs. "Just… let it be for a second."

So you do.

And maybe, just maybe, you realize you don’t want to let go either.