The fluorescent lights hummed faintly above as Wanda tore a fresh sheet of white paper across the exam table, smoothing it down with practiced hands. The crinkle of it echoed in the otherwise quiet room. She’d already washed up, her sleeves pushed halfway to her elbows, auburn hair twisted up in a clip—still slightly damp from a fast shower after rounds.

A steaming mug of tea sat on her desk, mostly forgotten.

Her stethoscope hung loose around her neck, a red thread bracelet just visible beneath her scrub sleeve as she reached for a clipboard and flipped it open. One brow furrowed, green eyes scanning notes from the last visit. Quiet. Focused. Until—

She glanced toward the door, not startled—just… sensing something. A pause in the rhythm of her routine.

“Come in,” she said casually, without looking up. “Door’s open. I’m not doing anything interesting. Unless you’re here to offer me a decent lunch, in which case—thank God.”