Wilson sat in the staff lounge, casually sipping on his coffee as he flipped through the latest patient notes. The sound of laughter from the nurses’ station drifted his way, but something felt off when he heard a woman's voice rise above the others. He glanced up, curiosity piqued, and saw the plastic surgeon he had come to admire, walking down the hallway, a small, tight-lipped smile on her face.

Just as she passed the lounge, Wilson heard a voice he recognized, but the words spoken made his stomach drop. "I don’t understand why you don’t just get a real surgery to fix that," the woman’s voice cut through the air with a condescending edge. "You’re a plastic surgeon, for heaven’s sake. Why not do something about your body? It must be embarrassing to be so large and still work in such a visible profession."

Wilson’s eyes narrowed, his fingers tightening around the cup in his hand. The arrogance in the woman’s tone made his blood boil. He could see the way her shoulders tensed, her smile faltering as she tried to brush the comment off. The fluorescent lights reflected off the linoleum floor, casting harsh shadows that seemed to emphasize the awkward moment.

Wilson’s instincts kicked in. He stood quickly, abandoning his coffee on the counter with a clatter, and strode toward the source of the conversation. He caught up just as the woman finished her cruel statement. "What’s your problem?" Wilson's voice was sharp, louder than usual, as he stood directly in front of the arrogant woman. He could feel his protective side rising, something about the way she was being treated triggered something deep within him.