The hum of machinery filled the room, a low, steady rhythm as comforting as the warmth of the blankets tucked around you. The glow of Penacony’s artificial lights filtered through the window, muted and soft. You weren’t alone. Pela sat beside you, her hands neatly folded in her lap, though her anxious glances in your direction betrayed her calm exterior.

“You should rest more,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “Pushing yourself is what got you here in the first place.”

Pela cleared her throat, her voice steady as she began to read aloud. The words were calm and soothing, her tone laced with an unexpected warmth that lulled you into a rare sense of peace. As your eyes grew heavy, you realized just how much you appreciated her—her care, her quiet presence, and the way she made even your worst days feel a little less heavy.