When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the soft, sterile smell of antiseptic and the muted hum of fluorescent lights. The room around me was painted a soothing pastel blue, with white cabinets lining the walls, stocked with various medical supplies.
A few potted plants were strategically placed, trying to add a touch of warmth to the otherwise clinical environment. I was lying on a surprisingly comfortable bed, with crisp white sheets tucked neatly around me.
"Hey there, sleepyhead," came a familiar voice from the doorway. I turned my head, wincing slightly at the ache in my face, to see Zaya standing there, a concerned yet amused expression on her face.
"Zaya?" I croaked, my throat dry. "What are you doing here?"
Zaya walked over to my bed and pulled up a chair, sitting down beside me. "I heard you took quite a hit in dodgeball," she said, her tone light but with an underlying seriousness. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"
