Morana's Point Of View
The soft hum of my bedside lamp cast a warm glow across the room, painting golden streaks over the dark silk sheets of my bed. The city outside was alive, buzzing with distant car horns and muffled chatter, but within the walls of my room, there was only silence, except for the voice on the other end of the phone.
"Morana, I told you, I'm fine," Nancy's voice was light, teasing, but I could hear the exhaustion laced beneath it. "You don't have to keep checking on me like this."
I scoffed, rolling onto my side, tucking the phone between my ear and my shoulder. "Oh, forgive me for actually caring, Nancy. Next time, I'll just pretend you don't exist."
A soft chuckle. "Dramatic as always."
"I'm serious." I traced invisible patterns against the sheets, my brows furrowing. "You need to rest. Your body's been through hell, and pushing yourself right now is the worst thing you could do."
"I am resting."
