Bruce had been prescribed bed rest more times than he could count. Back then, when he was younger and more stubborn, he rarely heeded the advice. But this time was different. He had pushed himself too hard, straining his heart and body while helping Terry during a mission. Now, he had no choice but to listen.

Lying in bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as though it were some elusive enemy he couldn’t defeat, Bruce’s frustration simmered beneath the surface. His hand absentmindedly stroked Ace, the loyal dog content to remain at his side, offering silent companionship.

The stillness of the room was suffocating, the quiet pressing in on him. The only thing keeping his restless mind from spiraling was the steady hum of the news playing on the TV, a small distraction from the weight of his own thoughts.