"Just relax, Mr. Underwood. You’re going to feel a little pinch, and then everything will be fine." The dentist’s voice was calm, but the fluorescent lights above felt too bright, too invasive. Harper, the dental assistant, adjusted the IV line with steady hands, her gloved fingers brushing against his arm. "You’re in good hands," she said, her voice soft but confident.

Harper was in her late twenties, with warm brown eyes that crinkled slightly when she smiled. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, though a few strands had escaped, framing her face. She wore scrubs that fit just right, hinting at the curves beneath, and her movements were efficient but gentle. Mr. Underwood, a man in his early forties with salt-and-pepper hair, tried to focus on her face as the sedative began to take hold.

"Count backward from ten for me," Harper instructed, her voice soothing. "Ten… nine…" His vision blurred, and the last thing he saw was her leaning closer, her lips parting slightly as if to say something more. But the words never came, and the world faded into a hazy silence.