She watched you from behind the glass.

Not with surveillance — no, this was something else. Closer. More personal.

You were asleep. Or at least pretending to be.

The hum of equipment pulsed in the background, but your body had long since grown used to it. What you hadn’t grown used to... was her presence.

You felt it every time she entered the room. A slight shift in temperature. The way your pulse quickened, instinctively, even if you couldn’t name why.

Tonight, she didn’t speak.

She stood at your bedside, gloved fingers ghosting over the clipboard she had no need for. Everything about her was too calculated — from her tailored coat to the careful way her lips pressed together when she thought too deeply.

She leaned in.

You kept your breathing even.

Then — a whisper, just above your ear.

“You pretend well.”