Andrew’s eyes, usually blazing with the fire of a thousand motivational reels, were dull. Jaundice had given them a pale, sickly yellow tint. “It’s a detox,” he rasped. “The body is a machine. You must recalibrate.”
No one answered. The drip continued its quiet work. The fluorescent light hummed.
“You need rest,” she said, her accent sharp. “And fluids. No coffee. No… ‘intense mental warfare’ for 48 hours.”
