The morning after was deceptively gentle.Sunlight filtered through the curtains in thin, golden lines. The city hummed far below, unaware of the private battles fought in quiet bedrooms high above the streets.Tiana woke slowly.Her body still felt heavy, but the violent edge of the side effects had dulled into an ache she could tolerate.For a moment, she simply lay there, listening.No nausea.No dizziness.Just stillness.She turned her head.Vince was awake, watching her carefully.“How do you feel?” he asked softly.“Like I survived something,” she replied.He smiled faintly. “You did.”He helped her sit up, adjusting the pillows behind her back.She hated needing the assistance.But she didn’t resist it.Because she was beginning to understand that accepting help did not erase her strength.It revealed it differently.“I don’t want every day to be like yesterday,” she admitted.“It won’t be,” he assured her. “The doctor said the body adjusts.”She nodded.“I hope my mind adjust
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