He was kind enough to help me take a seat, his presence both grounding and unsettling in a way I couldn’t quite place.
I felt self-conscious, gripping the sides of my hospital gown where a few buttons had popped open. The thin fabric did little to make me feel dignified, but I held onto it as if it could shield me from the vulnerability of this moment.
As soon as I sat, he followed suit, settling into the chair beside me.
The large, tinted window stretched across the wall—clearly designed so that they could watch everything.
Or at least, that’s what I thought.
But the moment the man spoke, his voice smooth and steady in my native language, my head snapped toward him.
“They can’t see us,” he assured me, his hazel eyes holding mine with quiet intensity. “And they have quite a lot to an
