Selena stared at the ceiling and counted the cracks.
There were three that mattered, thin, jagged lines branching out from a single point near the light fixture. She followed them with her eyes, mapping their paths, wondering vaguely how long they had been there. Long enough, probably. Hospitals didn't rush repairs unless something was broken beyond use.
She exhaled slowly.
She hated waiting.
The steady beep of the monitor beside her felt louder than it should have, each sound marking time she didn't want to spend here. She wasn't injured. Not really. A scare, that was all. People came to hospitals for worse reasons every day.
She just wanted to leave.
Selena shifted slightly on the bed, testing her body. No dizziness. No lingering pain. Her arm felt a little sore where the IV was attached, but it was nothing she couldn't ignore. She flexed her fingers once, then let her hand rest against the sheet again.
Soon, she told herself. They'll discharge me soon.
The door opened quietly.
A nurse stepped in, dressed in pale blue scrubs, her movements efficient and unhurried. Selena barely spared her a glance at first. Nurses came and went constantly, checking vitals, adjusting machines, murmuring reassurances they probably gave a hundred times a day.
The nurse smiled politely as she approached the IV stand.
"Just going to adjust this," she said.
Selena nodded faintly, her gaze drifting back to the ceiling. She followed the cracks again, tracing their paths, letting her thoughts wander.
Then the room felt… smaller.
It wasn't immediate. Just a subtle shift, like the air had thickened without warning. Selena frowned slightly, her attention snapping back to the present.
The nurse's hand moved toward the tray beside the bed.
The sound of plastic against metal rang out too clearly.
Selena's eyes flicked to the syringe.
The world narrowed.
Time slowed down in what felt like a hallucination.
Everything outside the space between her and the nurse blurred into irrelevance. The hum of the machines dulled. The light sharpened. Selena's focus locked onto the clear liquid inside the syringe, the way it caught the overhead glow as the nurse lifted it.
Her heart kicked hard against her ribs.
No.
The thought came without reason, without explanation. Just certainty.
The nurse leaned in, reaching for the IV port.
Selena moved.
She knocked her elbow into the tray with a sharp motion, sending instruments clattering to the floor. At the same time, she twisted away instinctively, the sudden movement yanking the IV line free from her arm.
Pain flared, bright and sharp, but she barely noticed it.
The syringe slipped from the nurse's fingers, skidding harmlessly across the tile.
"Careful," the nurse said calmly, stepping back.
Selena's breathing came fast now, her pulse roaring in her ears. She stared at the woman standing over her, really looked at her.
Their eyes met.
The nurse didn't look startled. Or angry. Or even concerned.
She looked assessing.
Whatever calculation passed through her expression lasted less than a second.
"I'll get someone to clean that up," the nurse said evenly, already turning toward the door.
Selena said nothing.
She watched as the nurse left the room, her pace unhurried, her posture relaxed. The door clicked shut behind her.
The room expanded again.
Time resumed its normal flow.
Sound rushed back in all at once, the beeping monitor, the distant murmur of voices down the hall. The lights softened. The pressure eased.
Selena let out a slow breath, her hands trembling only now that everything felt normal again.
That was strange.
But she was certain of one thing. She needed to leave.
***
Selena wasted no time getting herself discharged.
She answered questions before they were fully asked, signed where she was told, nodded at instructions she had no intention of following. With Adam's presence and quiet authority smoothing the process, the paperwork moved faster than it should have. She knew that without him, there would have been more objections, more insistence that she stay longer just in case. She didn't intend to give anyone the chance.
Adam stood a short distance away while it was happening, arms crossed over his chest, his posture rigid. He hadn't moved since the forms were handed over, as though shifting even slightly might unravel the fragile control he was holding onto. His jaw was tight, the muscle there working slowly as his eyes followed every motion she made.
"You should still be resting," he said once, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
Selena didn't look at him as she handed the clipboard back to the nurse. Her movements were unhurried, deliberate. "I am."
The answer was simple. Calm. Final.
It made him still.
For a moment, the tension between them thickened—not sharp, not loud, but heavy, pressing in on the space they shared. Selena could feel his gaze on her even without looking, could sense the weight of whatever he was trying not to say.
She finally turned to face him.
Their eyes met, and she didn't flinch. Her expression was steady, composed, almost unreadable. Not defensive. Not apologetic.
"I feel fine," she added quietly. "There's no reason for me to stay."
Adam searched her face like he was trying to peel back layers she wasn't offering up. His eyes lingered on hers, then dropped briefly to the faint mark where the IV had been, before lifting again. Whatever he was looking for—fear, weakness, hesitation—he didn't find it.
Or maybe he did, and chose not to acknowledge it.
After a moment, he nodded, the movement stiff. "I'll have a car take you home."
"I can manage," Selena replied without hesitation.
Another pause stretched between them.
Adam's gaze didn't leave her this time. "Humour me," he said.
The words weren't an order. They weren't even an argument.
They were a quiet request.
Selena held his stare for a second longer, then exhaled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. "Fine."
That was all.
They didn't speak again after that.
Adam turned first, already pulling out his phone to make the call, and Selena followed a step behind, the space between them filled with things neither of them was ready to put into words.