The world outside was a blank canvas of white, cloaked in a thick layer of snow. How long had they been here? An hour? Two? No, it had been hours.
Frida rubbed her eyes, heavy with fatigue. Sleep had eluded her the night before. She'd stayed awake, watching him, terrified he might slip away.
Now, exhaustion clung to her, and her heart ached with guilt. She couldn't stop blaming herself.
If only she'd said no.
If she'd been the responsible one and told him skydiving was a bad idea, none of this would have happened.
Maybe.
Just maybe.
She let out a long sigh as the nurse finished administering his medication.
"How is he?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"His vitals are stable for now. There's no immediate danger," the nurse said with a reassuring smile. "He just needs to wake up, and he will. Give it time."
Frida nodded weakly as the nurse left. She resolved to stay vigilant, but her eyelids grew heavier with every passing minute.
