Stella's eyelids fluttered open, her vision swimming as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The room was dimly lit, shadows clinging to the corners, and the air was thick with the scent of antiseptic. Her head throbbed with pain, and as she shifted slightly, a sharp ache shot through her body, forcing a groan from her lips.
"Stella?" A voice, deep and smooth, cut through the haze. She turned her head slowly, wincing as she did, to see a man sitting beside her bed. His dark eyes watched her intently, a mix of concern and something else—something colder—lurking beneath his expression.
"Who... who are you?" Stella's voice was barely a whisper, her throat dry and scratchy.
The man's expression softened, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face. "It's me, William. Your husband."
