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The first thing I felt was stillness. No weight pressing down on me. No hands grabbing, no voice demanding. Just... silence.

My eyelids were heavy, my body exhausted, but when I slowly peeled my eyes open, I saw something unfamiliar—a hospital room. Stark white walls, the beeping of machines, an IV taped to my arm. The sheets beneath me were clean, soft. No tension lingered in the air, no fear vibrating through my bones.

For the first time in five years, I was alone.

I exhaled shakily, my chest tight. Not from fear. Not from pain. But from something else.

Relief.

I blinked up at the ceiling, adjusting to the brightness of the overhead lights. The hum of distant voices floated through the hallway, but no one was here. Just me.

I let my eyes drift closed again.

I wasn't ready to move yet, to process whatever had happened, whatever was coming next. I wanted this moment—this rare, unfamiliar peace—to last just a little while longer.

The soft click of the door opening broke the quiet. I inhaled slowly, bracing myself before I opened my eyes again.

A nurse stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise. He was tall, light brown skin, dark curly hair pulled back, and a name tag I couldn't quite read from here. His mouth hung open for half a second before he quickly schooled his features into something more professional.

"Well, well, well..." he muttered, stepping closer. "You're awake."

I swallowed, my throat dry and scratchy. "I think so." My voice was hoarse, weak.

He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head as he pulled a small flashlight from his pocket. "Alright, let's see how you're doing. Follow the light for me."

I did, my eyes tracking the movement sluggishly. He hummed to himself, nodding.

"Good. You know where you are?"

I forced myself to speak again. "Hospital."

"That's right. Do you remember your name?"

"Khiari Adrianna Laurent."

He smiled slightly. "That's a good sign. How are you feeling?"

I took a second to check in with my body. My limbs ached, my ribs were sore, and my head throbbed in a slow, dull rhythm. My wrist was wrapped tightly in a brace, and something about my breathing felt... off.

"Like I got hit by a truck," I muttered.

His smile widened a fraction. "Yeah, well, that's kinda what falling down three flights of stairs will do to you."

A slow chill crawled up my spine. The stairs.

Shakir.

It all slammed back into me at once—his shouting, his hands on me, the way I had run, the way he had shoved me. The feeling of weightlessness, the sickening crack of my body hitting the steps, the spinning, the ringing in my ears.

And then—nothing.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay present, to push it down.

"How long?" I rasped.

The nurse frowned slightly. "How long what?"

I wet my cracked lips. "How long was I out?"

His expression softened, a hint of sympathy creeping into his eyes. "Three days."