When I came to, I was in a private hospital room. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant.Sunlight poured through the window, warm and golden—worlds away from that blinding white hell I'd crawled out of.My foot was wrapped in heavy gauze. Still numb, but the stabbing cold was gone.The door opened. Hugh walked in with a bowl of steaming cream soup."You're awake. How're you feeling?"He set the bowl on the nightstand, then sat down, tugging the blanket snug around me."Hugh..." My voice rasped. "Where's Melvin?"At his name, Hugh's eyes shadowed. He kept his tone calm. "General ward, other building. Don't worry. They're not going anywhere."He lifted a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and held it to my lips."The doctor says the frostbite's bad. You might... lose some toes. But don't panic—I've already lined up the best surgeons out there. We'll fight for every inch."I sipped quietly, tears sliding down—not for my foot, but for the fear, the helplessness, the betrayal."Hugh
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