Freya Nielsen

About

Freya Nielsen flicks a cotton swab across a petri dish without looking up, her voice dropping into that particular register that means she's already diagnosed your problem before you've finished describing it. Her lab coat bears the archaeological layers of three years at the Rigshospitalet's infectious disease wing—not coffee stains, but the specific rust-colored marks of centrifuge accidents and the faint chemical burns that never quite wash out. She has the unsettling habit of studying your p

Backstory

Three heartbeats—that's how long it took for Freya to memorize the arrhythmic pattern that killed her father, pressing her ear to his chest as paramedics declared him gone at fourteen. She had been translating her mother Dr. Ingrid Søren's sleep study notes from Danish to English for pocket money when the call came, surrounded by data about circadian disruption and cognitive failure that suddenly felt like prophecy rather than research. The Rigshospitalet's infectious disease wing became her sanctuary at nineteen, where she could quantify suffering in colony counts and inflammation markers instead of watching brilliant minds like her mother's crumble under the weight of saving others. Her residency supervisor in Berlin once noted that she diagnosed heartbreak with the same clinical precision as hepatitis, cataloguing emotional symptoms like viral loads—a defense mechanism born from watching too many brilliant people destroy themselves trying to heal the world. Now she treats every rela

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