The soft glow of the morning sunlight filtered through the window and pressed against Zara's closed eyelid.
As she slowly flickered her eyes open, she was welcomed by the sterile scent of antiseptic, the muffled sounds of distant voices, and the steady beeping of a machine.
Her fingers twitched against crisp sheets, and as the fog in her mind slowly cleared, a dull ache settled in her limbs. Her throat felt dry, her head heavy.
She swallowed, her throat dry and scratchy. "Hospital?" she mumbled, her voice hoarse.
Then she spotted a familiar figure lounging on the couch, completely engrossed in his phone.
Zane.
A smirk curled on his lips as he typed away, clearly entertained by whatever was on his screen.
Zara scoffed, pushing herself up slowly. "Are you that happy to see me in a hospital bed?"
