Waking before dawn, I found myself staring at the hospital ceiling, counting the tiles for the hundredth time. My body felt stronger, but inside I remained hollow—a shell housing nothing but grief and rage.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. Dr. Wesley Harris entered, clipboard in hand and a gentle smile on his face.
"Good morning, Aurelia. How are you feeling today?"
"Better," I replied automatically, the lie coming easily after years of practice.
"Physically, yes," he agreed, checking my vitals. "Your body has recovered remarkably well. I'm ready to discharge you today."
I nodded, unsure whether to feel relief or anxiety at leaving the safety of the hospital walls.
"Alpha Sinclair is handling the paperwork now," Dr. Harris added, his voice dropping slightly. "He's been quite... attentive to your case."
