Consciousness returns slowly.First, it’s smell—a mixture of antiseptic, blood, and something familiar. Something warm, safe, comforting.Then, sound—the soft whoosh of footsteps, the murmur of voices just beyond my reach, the steady beeping of machines.Then, touch—the dull throb of pain in my right side and the warmth of something—someone—pressed against my left.Finally, sight. My eyelids flutter open, and I blink against the harsh glow of the halogen lights.The medical tent.IV lines snake into my arm. Machines surround me. My bed is boxed in by three curtain dividers, offering a semblance of privacy. I shift slightly, trying to ease the ache in my muscles—Pain lances through my right side, sharp and immediate.I freeze. My breath hitches. My chest tightens in response, and for a moment, panic spikes—Then I feel it.A body curled against me, warm and steady. A familiar scent. Lotus flower and vanilla.Bhakti.Her dark lashes flutter, and within seconds, her warm, sleep-heavy gaz
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