The doctor came quietly.
Not rushed. Not urgent in the way that signaled disaster. Just present, composed, carrying the particular gravity of someone who understood exactly how thin the margin still was.
Willow felt him before she saw him, the subtle shift in the room as professionals entered and recalibrated their focus. Lorrlyne noticed too. She always did.
Dr. Patel stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, eyes on the monitors, hands loosely clasped, allowing the data to speak before he did. The machines continued their steady rhythm, green lines pulsing across the screen, numbers holding in ranges that meant survival but not safety.
"He's waking appropriately," he said at last. "That's a good sign."
Willow exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours. The breath left her slowly, deliberately, as though releasing it too fast might tempt fate into reclaiming its hold.
