I woke up to the sound of hushed voices. The warmth of the bed I lay on felt foreign, like I had forgotten what it was to feel safe and secure. My eyelids were heavy, and my body ached in a way that made me wonder if I had been hit by a truck. For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was. Everything was blurry, my thoughts sluggish.
But then it all came rushing back—the desert, the relentless sun, the endless sand, and John's voice telling me to hold on. My heart squeezed at the memory. John. I shifted slightly, trying to sit up, and winced at the sharp pain that radiated from my side. I stifled a groan as my eyes finally fluttered open.
The room was dimly lit, the air warm and still. I was in a small, cozy room, the kind that spoke of comfort and care. A faint scent of herbs and something sweet lingered in the air. I blinked, trying to make sense of my surroundings.
