"Annabelle, stop panicking," Ariana said firmly, though her eyes never left Adrian's unmoving body.
He lay on the bed as if carved from stone, his chest rising faintly with shallow breaths. His face was pale, lips dry, and his brows were faintly knitted even in unconsciousness, as though pain refused to leave him even in sleep.
Annabelle stood frozen near the foot of the bed, tears pooling in her eyes, hands trembling as she tried to steady herself. "But—but… darling…" Her voice cracked before the word even fully left her mouth.
"As I said," Ariana continued, her tone sharp but controlled, "he won't get better if you panic. Pacing around won't help him." She finally looked away from Adrian and fixed her gaze on Annabelle. "Go get me warm water, compressing pads, and cleaning cotton. Quickly."
