The night outside was unforgiving, with a biting cold that seeped through the cracks and crevices of the hospital, making it impossible to escape the chill.
Diara lay on the narrow bed, her body wrapped tightly in a thin hospital blanket that barely warded off the cold. She was sedated, her breathing slow and steady, but her face betrayed the turmoil of her dreams.
The smooth lines of her brow furrowed deeply, and her lips twitched as though she were in the throes of some unseen struggle. Whatever her mind was battling in sleep, it was relentless.
Down the dimly lit hallway, the figure in the black hoodie moved with purpose, yet there was an unmistakable hesitance in the way she glanced over her shoulder with every few steps.
