It was just a check-up.
That was what Rhea told herself as she sat in the cool-toned waiting area of the Brixtonia City Clinic, fingers drumming an uneven rhythm on her knee.
It wasn't like she was here for anything… else. Right?
"Miss Callen?"
She glanced up. Dr. Dervaux stood by the doorway, his usual calm expression in place — though his eyes, sharp as ever, flickered with something softer when they met hers.
"Come on in."
The appointment was routine enough. BP check, vitals, the usual questions.
But somewhere between the casual "How's work?" and the professional "Your numbers are holding steady," the conversation drifted… again.
"So… Rhea. Hypothetically, if you weren't working yourself half to death, what would you be doing?"
She blinked at him, caught off guard. "Uh… sleeping?"
He gave a low laugh — genuine, warm — and shook his head. "That's fair. But seriously?"
She hesitated, then shrugged. "I don't know. Traveling, maybe. Dancing. Making videos for myself… Nothing deep."
"Why haven't you?"
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
Why hadn't she?
Because life. Because money. Because being an adult came with strings no one told her about.
But instead of spilling all that, she smirked lightly. "Maybe I'm waiting for the perfect time."
His gaze held hers a moment longer, unreadable — then he smiled, almost wistful. "You'll be waiting forever if you do."
The words hit a little harder than she expected.
And when she left the clinic that day, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had quietly shifted.
Nothing dramatic.
Just… a soft intrusion.
A gentle question mark where certainty used to be.