There it was. That sound. Orm recognize that sound because it was a weekly event. Every Saturday, the same time, the same sound, the same person. Orm hated the predictability. It was honestly getting to be a bit of a bore. The sound of the motorcycle got louder as it approached outside and then it stopped. Which meant it was soon to be followed by * Ding ding * There it was, the chime from the store door. She was here.

In the stolen moments between sutures and sighs, between exhaustion and hope, love quietly took root-tender, unshaken, as if it had always been waiting for them. It bloomed in whispered names exchanged in dimly lit hallways, in the way their hands brushed as one passed a scalpel to the other, in the way time seemed to still when their eyes met across the chaos of an ER. It wasn't written in textbooks or planned in schedules, but it was there-written in the language of glances that lingered too long, in the silent comfort of a touch that spoke more than words ever could. It was in the way one's steady presence softened the other's burdens, in the way their laughter became the only cure for sleepless nights and heavy hearts. Perhaps it was destiny, a love etched into the stars long before they ever met. Or perhaps it was fate's most beautiful gift-two hearts, once strangers, now irrevocably entwined. A love so profound, so breathtaking, it felt less like a choice and more like a calling-like they had spent lifetimes searching for each other, only to find home in one another's arms.