Aisha's POV
To think I'd imagined the hospital as a sanctuary. A temple to science, compassion, and shared purpose. What a fool's dream.
By the end of my fourth day, I realized that the neutral hospital was less a beacon of unity and more a diplomatic warzone—diplomacy being performed through clipped tones, backhanded compliments, and enough passive aggression to sterilize a surgical suite.
It started innocently enough.
"Werewolf?" the High Elf administrator asked as she read my ID badge, her nose crinkling like she'd sniffed a fermented turnip. "Charming. Well, the sterilizer room could use someone with... your energy."
I smiled. The kind of smile that makes wolves bare teeth.
"I'm a certified trauma healer, actually. Seven years in battlefield rotations."
Her eyes
