Maya's POV
Dr. Quincy entered my hospital room with the kind of radiant smile that immediately sent alarm bells through my system. The expression was too bright, too enthusiastic for someone who had been monitoring my traumatic brain injury for weeks. His clipboard was clutched against his chest like a shield of good news, but my stomach twisted with dread.
"Maya, I have wonderful news for you," he announced, practically bouncing on his heels as he approached my bedside. "All your neurological assessments have come back completely normal. Your recovery has surpassed our most optimistic projections. You're cleared for discharge within the next couple of days."
The words hit me like a physical blow. My chest tightened, and I felt the familiar sensation of panic creeping up my throat.
"Absolutely not," I said, my voice cracking with unexpected force. "I'm not leaving."
Dr. Quincy's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. He lowered his clipboard and studied my face with concern.
