Freya lay very still. The room was the same as the day before: a square of soft light on the wall, the steady monitor, the faint smell of disinfectant that clung to everything. Her body ached in the usual places. The bandages pulled when she breathed too deeply, so she kept her breaths shallow and even, the way the nurse had taught her.
Mara had helped her sit up earlier and sip water, then helped her lie back down. When Freya asked in a whisper, “Please don't tell anyone I'm awake," Mara had studied her face for a moment and then nodded. “It's your news to share," the nurse said. “I'll chart no change." She pulled the curtain a little to soften the light and left the door half‑closed.
Freya closed her eyes and practiced stillness. If anyone came in, she would be sleeping. If anyone spok
