Zaya watched me closely, her green eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and concern. The infirmary was quiet, save for the occasional beeping of medical equipment. The sterile smell of antiseptic lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of Zaya's perfume—a soft floral fragrance that seemed out of place in such a clinical setting.
"So, Elena," she began, her tone casual but laced with an undertone of seriousness that made my heart beat a little faster, "tell me about your fiancée."
I hesitated, my fingers tracing the edge of the hospital bed's sheet. How much should I reveal? My thoughts raced, colliding with memories and emotions that were hard to untangle. "Carmen Steele," I said finally, keeping my voice neutral. "She's... well, she's great."
Zaya's eyebrow arched slightly, her expression sharpening. "Just 'great'? That's all you're going to say about the person you're engaged to?"