Her body temperature seemed to be lower.

Morning arrived, cold and crisp, a stark reminder of the world's relentless march forward.

Korbyn returned to the hospital, exhaustion etched on his features.

He shed his frost-kissed coat, its fabric heavy with the weight of the night's labor. Silently, he approached Rena's bedside, his gaze searching for a sign of change. With a hushed murmur, he broke the stillness.

“Has Rena awoken yet?"