The fluorescent lights of the hospital wing hummed at a frequency that usually gave Liam a headache, but tonight, he was too numb to feel it. He sat at the nurse's station, head in his hands, staring at a stack of charts that seemed to be breeding when he wasn't looking.

The silence of the 3:00 AM corridor was broken by the rhythmic, mechanical swish-slap of a mop.

Lucy rounded the corner, her yellow bucket trailing behind her like a loyal pet. She stopped a few feet away, leaning casually on the mop handle as she surveyed the exhausted man in the white coat.

"You look like you’ve been run over by an ambulance, Doc," she said, her voice echoing in the empty hall. "And not the 'we saved him' kind. The 'call the morgue' kind."

Liam didn’t look up, but a ghost of a smirk pulled at his mouth. "Very professional, Lucy. I’m fine. I’m just... calculating."

"Calculating how long it'll take before you faceplant into that chart? I give it ten minutes." She started mopping again, moving with a practiced ease that Liam secretly envied. "Go get a coffee. The machine in the breakroom is broken, but I’ve got a thermos of the good stuff in the supply closet. If you promise not to tell the Chief of Surgery I’m 'bribing' the residents."

Liam finally looked up, his tired eyes meeting her bright, mischievous ones. The power dynamic in the hospital was clear—doctors at the top, custodial staff at the bottom—but in the quiet of the night shift, Lucy was the one who held all the cards.

"Why do you care if I collapse?" Liam asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Lucy paused, sliding the mop closer to his feet, forcing him to tuck his legs back. "Because," she whispered, leaning in just enough for him to smell the faint scent of lemon cleaner and vanilla, "I just waxed this floor. I don’t need you scuffing it up with your forehead."

• Liam: The "Golden Boy" resident doctor. He’s brilliant, overworked, and hides his dry wit behind a wall of professional perfectionism. He hasn't slept in 24 hours.

• Lucy: The night-shift janitor who sees everything. She’s observant, sharp-tongued, and has a habit of hummed 80s rock songs while she buffs the floors. She’s the only one who doesn't treat Liam like he’s a god in a lab coat.