The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and stale air when Parul opened her eyes. White walls. Machines beeping. A dull ache behind her skull that made every thought feel like it was swimming through mud. She blinked, trying to place the man sitting beside the bed. Tall, broad-shouldered, early thirties, dark hair falling over a worried forehead. His hand held hers tightly.

“Parul,” he said, voice low and rough. “You’re awake. Thank God.”