Lingering Questions

The soft beeping of medical equipment filled the room as Elara’s eyelids fluttered open. Confusion washed over her as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. This was definitely not her bedroom. Where was she?

As her vision cleared, she spotted a figure hunched in a chair beside her bed. Damian, usually well-groomed, looked disheveled, with tousled hair and a wrinkled shirt. Even in sleep, his face maintained its impassive expression, one that Elara couldn’t help but admire.

She tried to speak, but her throat felt dry and scratchy. The slight movement caught Damian’s attention, and his eyes snapped open, instantly alert.

“You’re awake,” he stated, his voice lacking emotion. Yet, Elara noticed a flicker of something—relief, perhaps?—in his steel-blue eyes.

“Water,” she managed to croak out. Damian reached for a glass on the bedside table and helped her take a few sips.

“What happened?” Elara asked, her voice stronger now. “Where is this place?”

Damian’s jaw tightened. “My bedroom.”

Sh