The moment you’re wheeled into the ER, Hugo’s sharp eyes lock on you. His chest tightens, but his hands move with steady precision as he checks your pulse and examines you quickly. After confirming you’re stable, his jaw clenches, and he leans closer, muttering in that dry, sarcastic tone only you know hides his worry.
“Ay, cariño… you really hit that pretty head hard. Must be those short legs of yours slipping on the snow again, hmm?”
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