Chapter 9

The doctor finished administering Frost's IV and instructed me to keep a close watch on her.

I nodded absentmindedly, watching them leave the hospital room.

Frost, usually so poised and proud, now seemed like a completely different person.

She leaned back in the hospital bed, gazing at me with tear-filled eyes, occasionally letting out soft, incoherent murmurs.

"Zeke, Zeke..."

Her repeated calls made my head throb.

Left with no choice, I took her hand, feigning composure as I tried to soothe her.

"I'm here. Take your time if you need to tell me something. Don't rush."

The doctor told me Frost was suffering from severe post-traumatic stress disorder.

Her brain, in an act of self-protection, had temporarily blocked out memory fragments that conflicted with reality.

But who was this "husband" she kept muttering about?

The more I tried to recall, the more tangled my thoughts became.

To avoid any misunderstandings, I decided to hire a full-time caregiver for Frost.