The door burst open, and a flurry of concerned faces rushed in. Louisa, Henry, Frederick, Susan, and James surrounded the bed, their voices a cacophony of worry.
"Stacey, sweetie, how are you?" Susan asked, her voice trembling.
Stacey's gaze remained fixed on Adrian's sleeping form, her face etched with a mix of emotions. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn't respond.
"Stacey, darling, can you hear us?" James asked, his brow furrowed.
Louisa stepped forward, her hands clasped together. "Stacey, dear, we're here for you. You're safe now." She checked on the drip bag, and punched some holes above the liquid level to help it flow better.
Henry placed a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder after she was done. "Let's give her some space, dear. She's been through a lot."
Frederick, however, couldn't contain his concern. He reached out to touch Stacey's hand, but she flinched, a look of fear flashing across her face.
