Celina shook her head, her eyes swollen and red from crying.

“I don’t want to sleep… I need to know how he’s doing… please…”

Zoe held her hand tightly.

“You’re not going to sleep—you’re just going to breathe a little easier. Trust us, friend. You need to calm down or they’ll end up admitting you too.”

The nurse approached with a prepared syringe. Celina hesitated, but when she glanced at the monitor beside her—her heartbeat wild and erratic—she finally nodded weakly.

The prick was quick. The warm liquid spread through her arm like a silent embrace. Within minutes, she felt her body begin to relax, the tightness in her back and chest easing slightly. She was still alert, but no longer drowning in panic.

“That’s it… good,” the psychologist said softly. “Keep breathing just like that. Your body needs this pause. Thor is being taken care of. Trust that.”

Celina closed her eyes for a moment. Her mind still spun, replaying every second in the garden—the gunshots, the blood, the terror. But