ISABELLA'S POV
The first thing I noticed was the smell.
Sterile. Sharp. The faint sting of antiseptic buried under a sweeter note — lilies, maybe. Or death pretending to be gentle.
...Adrien?
Where am I?
The question was mute, trapped beneath the arid landscape of my mouth.
The world came back to me in fragments.
Sound before sight. Pressure before pain.
A distant beeping. A soft, rhythmic hiss — mechanical breathing that wasn't mine. My throat burned. My chest ached like someone had stitched fire into my ribs. When I tried to move, the sheets rasped against my skin, cool and sterile.
My eyes tried to open a little but it flutter to white. Too much white. I stopped trying to make them open as they felt too heavy. Am I dead? Is this heaven? Or worse…hell?
For a few seconds, I couldn't move. Couldn't even remember how to breathe without counting it.
In.
Out.
In again.
