At the door to the room, the nurse eased it open with practiced gentleness.

“Here she is, sir,” she whispered. “She’s asleep. The IV is almost fully adjusted.”

Thor stepped inside as if crossing a thin line between storm and stillness. There lay Celina, hair fanned across the pillow, her face tired yet serene. The bandage on her forehead stood out against her pale skin. Beside her, the IV hung with its clear drip, the only sound in the room a steady, rhythmic patter.

The nurse moved to the equi