He stood at the foot of my bed with his clipboard tucked under his arm, white coat crisp, posture calm, like he wasn’t about to explain the limitations of my own body to me.
“How are we feeling today, Star?”
I stared at him.“Like I won a bar fight with a concrete wall.”
My mom winced.“She’s in pain.”
“I’m functional,” I corrected.“Which feels important to clarify.”
The doctor smiled faintly, already amused.“Your scans are stable.That’s the good news.”
Here it comes.
“The bruising is severe, and you sustained a concussion.You’re healing, but slowly.That means rest, limited activity, and supervision.”
My jaw tightened.“Define supervision.”
“Someone with you,” he said evenly.“At all times, for at least the first week after discharge.”
My mom nodded immediately.Too immediately.
“I can take time off—”
“No,” I said, sharper than intended.“You’ve already taken a week.You can’t just keep dropping everything.”
The doctor lifted a hand.“This doesn’t need to be decided right now.”
“Yes, it does,” I said.“Because people keep deciding things for me.”
Silence settled.
My mom looked torn.“Star-”
“I know,” I said quietly.“I know you’re scared.I am too.But I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I stopped being part of my own life.”
The doctor watched us for a moment longer, then nodded.“We’ll revisit this tomorrow.For now, rest.”
He left without another word.
The room felt smaller once the door shut.
My mom sat down heavily.“You don’t have to fight everything.”
“I’m not fighting,” I said.“I’m drawing lines.”
She reached for my hand, squeezing gently.“You scared me.”
“I know,” I whispered.
A knock sounded at the door.
It opened before either of us answered.
Cole stepped inside.
He didn’t look surprised to see me awake.Just alert, like he’d already taken inventory of the room before his boots crossed the threshold.
“Hey,” he said.
