No

My eyes flutter open, my vision blurry and my head pounding. As my surroundings come into focus, I realize I'm lying in a hospital bed. The sterile smell and beeping monitors confirm it. How did I end up here?

A beautiful nurse enters the room, her warm smile and gentle demeanor putting me at ease. She has full, red lips and a sparkle in her green eyes that is both reassuring and enticing. Her wavy, chestnut hair is pulled back into a loose bun, with a few tendrils framing her heart-shaped face. As she approaches, I catch a whiff of her perfume, a subtle yet intoxicating floral scent.

She seems surprised to see me awake and alert.

"Ah, John, you're finally awake! We were starting to get worried. You've been **** for a few days," she informs me, her voice soothing.

I try to recall what happened, my memory hazy. The nurse, noticing my confusion, gently fills me in. "You were brought in after an accident in the street. Witnesses said you were fighting with an old man, and both of you ended up being struck by a bus."

"No, no," I stammer, my heart racing as I remember the harrowing moment. "I wasn't fighting him. I was trying to save him from being hit by the bus. He was running into traffic, and I tried to pull him back."

The nurse's expression softens with understanding, and her smile becomes even more inviting. "Oh, I see. I'm sorry for the confusion. It must have been quite a chaotic scene. You're very brave for trying to help him."

As we converse, she shares details about my injuries and the expected recovery time.

"You've sustained a concussion, a few broken ribs, and some nasty bruises, but you're very lucky to be alive," she tells me. "You'll need to rest, avoid any strenuous activities, and take your prescribed pain medication. Your recovery will take some time, but you're young and strong, so we expect you to heal well."

I nod, grateful for her reassurances but overwhelmed by the thought of a long recovery. My mind races with concerns, and I suddenly remember my new job. "My job... did anyone contact them? They must think I just didn't show up for work," I say, my voice laced with worry.

The nurse's brow furrows, and she shakes her head. "I'm not sure, but I'll find out for you." She finishes checking my vitals and begins to leave the room, but then adds, "By the way, you've had a visitor these past few days. Your sister. It's early in the morning, so I expect she'll be here again shortly."

I'm surprised by this news, not knowing which of my sisters has flown out to help with my recovery. I feel a mix of relief and curiosity, eager to see her and grateful for her presence.

After the nurse leaves the room, I spot a bag across the room with all of my belongings, including my phone. **** for answers and to get in touch with my job, I try to get out of bed to retrieve it. The pain from my injuries, however, proves too much, and I'm unable to move. Exhausted and defeated, I fall back onto the bed and drift back to sleep.

As I sleep, my thoughts are filled with worry about my new job and anticipation of my sister's arrival.