Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains, soft and golden, painting gentle patterns across the hospital room floor. Hala slowly opened her eyes. For a few seconds, she couldn't understand where she was. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar-too white, too smooth. The shadows fell differently here. She blinked, her lashes heavy with sleep, and looked around. Her whole body ached, a deep, bone-tired heaviness that seemed to have settled into every part of her.

Then the memories came. Not gently. Like fragments of a shattered mirror, sharp-edged and cutting.