The sun spilled weakly through the curtains, bathing the room in a muted glow. I didn't move. Couldn't move.
I lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on me like an invisible force. My body felt foreign—hot and cold in turns, heavy and light all at once. It was as if I was floating and sinking at the same time, untethered from the world.
A faint knock on the door broke the silence.
"My lady?" a soft voice called. It was the maid. Again.
I didn't respond, hoping she would leave. But, of course, she didn't.
The door creaked open, and the sound of her hesitant footsteps followed. "I've brought your food," she said, setting the tray down on the small table by the bed.
I didn't even glance her way.
