CHAPTER FORTY SIX

The following day, Logan awoke in his hospital room, feeling marginally better but still nursing a throbbing headache and aching body. He shifted uncomfortably in his bed as the morning sun filtered through the curtains and the rays blinding his eyes. Just then, the nurse entered, her smile a facade of compassion.

"How are you feeling today, Mr. Logan?" she inquired, her tone polite but distant.

Logan winced, his voice still hoarse. "Slightly better than yesterday, I guess. Can I go home now?"

The nurse, seemingly ignoring his question, checked his bandages with clinical detachment and replied, "I'll inform the doctor of your progress."

Logan watched her leave the room, a growing sense of unease settling in. He had a nagging feeling that his day was about to take a turn for the worse.

As if on cue, a doctor arrived, her face a mask of professional indifference. Logan cleared his throat, his anxiety building. "Doctor, can I be discharged today?"

The doctor, reviewing his chart, barely
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