The private hospital room was a haven of opulence, its gleaming marble floors reflecting sunlight that poured through towering windows draped with gossamer white curtains. The air carried a delicate blend of fresh lilies and roses, their vibrant petals bursting from crystal vases, softening the sterile tang of antiseptic. Pastel blue walls, adorned with abstract paintings, whispered serenity, while plush leather armchairs and a sleek flat-screen television spoke of wealth far beyond a standard ward. Beyond the glass, a balcony revealed manicured gardens where fountains danced and colorful blooms swayed under the tender caress of the breeze.
Shreya Gupta sat propped against crisp white pillows, her slender frame swathed in a pale green hospital gown that clung loosely to her bandaged limbs
