"How are you feeling now?" The nurse asked the moment I stepped out of the ward's bathroom.

I offered her a weak, tight smile. "Fine," I replied, forcing my legs to move toward the bed. They felt like lead, heavy and unreliable under my own weight.

Before stepping out, I had caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The sight had shocked me—I looked gaunt, hollowed out, as if a few days of unconsciousness had siphoned away what little life I had left.

Yet, as horrifying as the blackout had been, a part of me missed the void. In that dark sleep, there were no demands. No father forcing me...