We Fix Broken People!

Aelin had been at her desk since sunrise. Her notes were scattered across the surface like fallen leavescoffee rings marking the edges of a marathon study session. She paused, pressing her hand to the aching spot between her neck and shoulder, trying to knead away the tightness. Her laptop screen glowed softly, a quiet witness to her endurance. The sound of the apartment door clicking open snapped her out of thought. Patrice stepped inside, hair pulled into a loose bun, fatigue etched into her features. Twelve hours on the floor of the hospital had drained her, but she still managed a small smile when she saw Aelin. Still at it! Patrice asked, kicking off her shoes. Deadlines tomorrow, Aelin murmured, rubbing the side of her neck again. If I can keep my spine from fusing into this chair, I might actually finish. Patrice chuckled softly and disappeared into her bedroom. When she returned, she was in an oversized T-shirt, bare legs curling up as she sank into the couch with a relieved sigh. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the apartment were the quiet tapping of Aelins keyboard and the soft hum of the refrigerator. Eventually, Patrice peeled herself of