Audrey pov A week has passed. Recovery was humiliating. The morning light streamed through the window, golden and warm, but the brightness only sharpened the ache in my leg. I shifted on the bed, trying to sit up straighter, but a dull, relentless pain pulsed deep in my bones, like a bruise that refused to fade. “Slowly, Miss Taylor,” the nurse said gently, her hands firm as she adjusted the pillows behind my back. “I’m fine,” I replied, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. “You’re pushing too much,” the nurse chided, but her tone was soft. “The swelling has gone down, but you’re still healing. Give it time.” I hated that word—time. It felt like punishment. From across the room, Mr. Garcia stood with his arms crossed, his gaze sharp as it tracked every clumsy movement I made. He never interrupted the physical therapists, never spoke over the medical team, but he was always watching. “Do you have to stand there like a bouncer?” I snapped, biting down on the anger t
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