Liz rushed to Minerva’s side, pulling out a tissue to press against her bleeding thumb. Minerva bit her lip, trying to stayposed, but the small wound, the shock, the overwhelming emotion of it all, it was too much.


    The tears she had been holding back surged forward. Maybe the cut was just an excuse, a release valve for the helplessness she’d bottled up since the ident. So she cried softly at first, then shook.


    Liz froze, her own throat tightening. She wanted to cry too, to scream even, but she held it in. Someone had to stay strong. Someone had to be the anchor.


    Biting her own lip, Liz gently patted Minerva’s back. Minerva, overwhelmed, copsed into her arms and buried her face in Liz’s chest, sobbing freely as the weight of the day finally broke through.


    "Don’t worry, everything’s going to be alright. There, there—stop crying, or your snot’s going to soak into my zer..." Liz said yfully, trying to lighten the mood.


    Minerva froze mid-sob, her teary eyes narrowing into a re. She was in the middle of an emotional moment, and here Liz was, ruining it with a joke. With a huff, Minerva pouted, wiped her tears, and bit her lip, stubbornly holding in the rest. Crying didn’t feel worth it anymore.


    Liz burst intoughter, clearly satisfied with the reaction. She began rummaging around for the first-aid kit, muttering, "Better hurry before that little cut heals on its own." She was only half joking, and she’d need to dress the wound quickly if she wanted the bandage to stick.


    After helping Minerva with her wound, Liz gently asked her to stay put and help by arranging things around the room instead. Taking over the rest of the work, Liz peeled and sliced the apples and pears before neatly ting them. The doctor had said Hera might wake up in about two hours, so Liz also began preparing the soup they had brought, pouring it into a bowl and making sure it was ready to be served.


    Hera hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and her stomach was likely empty by now. Soon, she would be given another round of medication, anti-inmmatory and anti-infection drugs, but no painkillers, which meant the pain would hit her hard once the sedatives wore off. Liz needed to ensure Hera ate something first, or the medication might make her sick or cause her to fall asleep again before regaining any strength.


    Just then, a weak groan came from the bed.


    "Ugh..." Hera let out a soft sound as her body shifted slightly. Her eyelids fluttered, and slowly, she opened her eyes.


    Xavier instantly jolted from his chair, his heart leaping. He rushed to her side, wanting to hold her, but the sight of her hooked up to many things and IVs made him freeze. Unable to touch her, he quickly looked around and found the bed’s controls. With shaking fingers, he raised the upper part of the bed to gently elevate her head so she wouldn’t strain herself.


    "How are you feeling?" Xavier asked softly, though there was a noticeable tremor in his voice.


    Seeing how worried he looked, Hera offered a faint smile, as if to reassure him nothing serious had happened. "Hey... I’m fine," she murmured.


    But the moment she spoke, the split on her lower lip tugged, making her flinch slightly. A sharp pain followed every small movement, radiating from her left side, most likely due to the fractured ribs. ncing down, she noticed her arm and leg in a cast, both elevated. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. Still... she knew this was the best oue she could have hoped for. It could’ve been worse. She could’ve died, burned alive in that wreck. Just the thought made her stomach churn.


    As soon as they saw she was awake, Alexandre, Athena, and even Minerva rushed to her bedside. Liz, entering behind them with a stainless steel tray, immediately scolded, "Hey, don’t crowd the patient! She needs air, not a mob. Give her space or she’ll feel overwhelmed."


    Minerva was the first to step back, her wide eyes still locked on Hera’s face. Alexandre quietly returned to his chair. Liz moved to ce the tray on the overbed table, adjusting it so the food would be within easy reach.


    "Let me," Xavier said gently, taking the tray from her hands. "Thanks," he added with a small nod, then carefully set it on the table near Hera. He touched the side of the bowl to check if the soup was still warm, then turned to Hera with a questioning look. "Do you think you can eat a little?"


    Hera looked into his eyes, saw the deep concern there, and gave a weak nod, her smile faint but genuine. Xavier picked up the spoon, cooled the soup with a few quick blows, and then gently fed her one spoonful at a time.


    The others stood back and watched quietly, not wanting to interrupt. Xavier was careful to follow the doctor’s instructions—giving her small portions, mindful not to overfeed her. Her body needed nourishment, but too much at once could cause difort, especially with the broken ribs pressing against her organs.