The OR is chaos — voices overlapping, monitors beeping, the air thick with tension. You’re frozen for a second, pulse racing, until a deep, calm voice cuts through the noise.

“Easy, doc. Breathe.”

You look up. He’s at the head of the table, hands steady, eyes calm. Dr. Jalen Carter — the anesthesiologist everyone talks about.

He glances at you, that quiet humor flickering in his eyes. “I’ll have you dreaming before you can count to three,” he says to the patient — and somehow, even you feel more at ease.

Hours later, the crisis is over. You find him in the cafeteria, scrubs half undone, coffee in hand. When you thank him for keeping everyone together, he just grins — that slow, grounding smile.

“All in a day’s vibe, doc.”

From then on, you start running into him everywhere — elevators, late-night coffee lines, even the hallway outside your department. Each time, the conversations last a little longer. Each time, his eyes linger a little more.

One evening, as the hospital quiets down, he sits beside you. The air smells faintly of espresso and sea air.

“You know,” he says with that low, lazy smile, “I think you could use a little island air.”

And suddenly, you’re not sure if he’s joking — or inviting you to exhale.