Braelyn's POV
My eyes fluttered open again, slower this time. The room was still too bright, with white walls and soft beeping machines pressing in from every side. I blinked hard, trying to focus, then a familiar scent hit me amidst the strong scent.
Primroses.
They were everywhere.
Vases filled with pale pink and white blooms lined the windowsill, the bedside table, and even the floor near the foot of the bed. Baskets overflowed with more, some wrapped in cellophane, others tied with ribbons.
Get-well cards stood propped against bouquets, names scrawled in familiar handwriting. The scent was overwhelming, sweet and heavy, like someone had tried to bury the antiseptic smell under flowers.
My chest tightened.
Who…?.
The accident flashed behind my eyes in a blur, tyres screeching, headlights blinding, the sickening crunch of metal. I'd been running. From Lucien. From Raphael. From myself.
I swallowed, my throat dry and raw.
How long had I been out?
