he hours had stretched endlessly, each one marked by the ticking of the clock on the wall and the soft, even breathing of the little girl who lay unconscious on the bed. Markus paced the room, his phone in hand, while Kaia sat nearby, her eyes never leaving the fragile child who was still unconscious on the bed. They were both exhausted, their nerves frayed from the tension and uncertainty of the situation.
Finally, the silence was broken by a soft ping from Markus’s phone. He glanced at the screen and then looked over at Kaia. “They’re here,” he said quietly, referring to Dana and Tim.
Kaia nodded, her heart both relieved and heavy. Moments later, there was a single knock at the door. Markus moved quickly to open it, and in stepped Dana and Tim, their expressions a mixture of concern an
