Zayne’s POV
Dr. Romano has that look on his face, the one he gets when he’s already decided the outcome and is now just easing you into it, like the truth needs cushioning.
He flips through my chart, nodding to himself, humming faintly under his breath. The room smells like disinfectant and something metallic, a smell I’ve come to associate with waiting. With pain that has an expiration date but never quite tells you when it’s done with you.
“Well,” he says finally, closing the file. “You’ve healed remarkably well.”
I don’t smile. I’ve learned not to celebrate too early.
“The internal bruising has resolved. No signs of infection. Mobility is improving faster than expected.” He glances at me over his glasses. “You’re lucky.”
Lucky.
I almost laughed.
He moves closer, adjusting the I
