Elle Lee In Good Hands ((link)) -

But at night, when she finally kicked off her shoes in her small, tidy apartment, Elle felt the weight of her own exhaustion settle deep in her bones. Her shoulders ached. Her wrists throbbed from too many massage strokes and resistance band pulls. And her heart? That was the hardest muscle to heal. Two years ago, her mother had passed after a long battle with a degenerative nerve condition—a fight Elle had fought alongside her every step of the way. Since then, she’d been running on fumes, pouring every ounce of care into others because it was easier than sitting still with her own grief.

Elle didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You don’t have to do this.” elle lee in good hands

Marcus leaned back, folding his arms. “Tell me something. If one of your patients came to you with these same symptoms, what would you prescribe?” But at night, when she finally kicked off

And on a quiet Saturday morning, Marcus proposed not with a grand gesture, but with a small velvet box over breakfast. “You’ve spent your whole life making sure everyone else is in good hands,” he said, smiling. “I’d like to make sure you are too. Forever.” And her heart

Six weeks later, Elle returned to work, her hand fully healed and her heart lighter than it had been in years. She still saw patients, still gave her all to every recovery. But now, at the end of the day, she went home to a man who made her soup, held her hand without splints or braces, and reminded her every single day that she was not alone.