The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the quiet hospital room as I lay there, my legs bound in thick casts, a dull ache pulsing beneath the surface. The door creaked open, and soft footsteps approached. I turned my head, and there she was—my doctor. Tall, poised, and exuding a quiet confidence, she met my gaze with sharp, assessing eyes. She had been keeping tabs on me, ensuring my recovery was on track. And now, standing by my bedside, she offered a small, knowing smile.

"How are we feeling today?"