"I have a force field, Dr. Elena," Leo informed her, crossing his arms tightly. "No pokes allowed."
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"Update complete," she said, handing him a sticker of a T-Rex wearing sunglasses. pediatrician
Elena didn't reach for her stethoscope. Instead, she sat on her rolling stool, which squeaked just the right amount to make Leo’s eyes widen. "A force field? That’s impressive. Is it solar-powered or does it run on apple juice?" Leo paused, his scowl wavering. "Apple juice. Mostly."
Elena smiled, the kind of smile that came from years of being a gateway for specialists and a first landing spot for worried parents. For her, it wasn't just about the medicine; it was about the privilege of being part of a family's story from the very first chapter. "I have a force field, Dr
Dr. Elena Vance’s office was more of a technicolor dreamscape than a sterile clinic. Hand-drawn dinosaurs lived on the walls, and the "Scale of Bravery" by the door featured a cartoon lion that grew fluffier the taller a patient stood.
After a personal tragedy involving his son, he successfully campaigned for mandatory back-up cameras in all new cars to prevent similar accidents. Elena didn't reach for her stethoscope
Elena had spent fifteen years in this room. She had seen infants who could fit in the palm of her hand grow into teenagers who now ducked their heads to enter her door. She was used to the "symphony" of a pediatric office—the high-pitched giggles from the waiting room, the rhythmic crinkle of exam table paper, and the occasional, inevitable wail of a toddler who spotted a needle.