The first thing you saw after waking up was a stranger sitting beside your hospital bed. The room was soft with pale morning light, the walls a muted white, the sheets stiff and unfamiliar against your skin. A thin curtain shifted slightly near the window. The air smelled of antiseptic and something faintly floral.

He sat with his legs crossed, a file resting open in his lap, pen held loosely between his fingers. Dark hair fell over his forehead. His face was calm, unreadable. When he noticed your eyes were open, he looked up.

He closed the file, setting it aside on the small table next to him. His gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, then he leaned back in the chair, as if settling in.