CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

My eyes flutter open for the second time, and I find myself in an unfamiliar surroundings, greeted by bright white lights that pierce through the haze of confusion. The sterile scent of antiseptic fills the air, carrying with it the distant echoes of hurried footsteps and muffled voices. Sitting up on the bed, I take in my surroundings, my brows furrowing as I realize I'm in what appears to be a hospital room. The walls are a muted shade of blue, adorned with framed landscapes that seem to try and inject a sense of calm into the clinical atmosphere. The faint hum of machinery provides a constant backdrop to the scene, punctuated by occasional beeps and whirs.

The sight of the hospital gown draped over me confirms my suspicions, its fabric thin. But it's the heart monitor beside my bed that drives home the reality of my situation, its rhythmic blips and spikes serving as a tangible link to the fragility of life.

"You're finally awake," a voic