The room was quieter now, as if even the machines had grown tired of waiting for her to make sense of this fractured world.
Adeline sat up slowly, wincing as pain unfurled in her ribs. Her hands trembled as they searched for the small bag Jenna had left behind. Everything felt off, like she was struggling to control limbs that didn't quite belong to her.
Inside the bag, between a tube of lip balm and a tangled set of keys, she found a frayed leather wallet. She opened it carefully, her fingers fumbling over the smooth leather.
A driver's license peeked out.
Adeline Rae Moore.
A face stared back at her—her face, perhaps—but more polished, more composed. Dark hair tucked neatly behind one ear, a faint, controlled smile, as if she knew exactly who she was and where she was going.
But she didn't recognize her own face.
Adeline.
It felt strange in her mouth, like a name she'd heard once, briefly, in passing.
Just then, the door creaked open, and a blur of pink and blonde swept in, carrying the scent of vanilla and coffee.
"Oh my god, you're awake!"
Before Adeline could react, the woman rushed over and engulfed her in a hug. Too much, too fast. Adeline froze, stiff and confused.
The woman pulled away quickly, her blue eyes scanning Adeline's face with a sharpness that quickly shifted to concern.
"Wait… Do you—do you know who I am?"
Adeline shook her head, her voice weak. "I'm sorry. I… I don't remember anything."
The woman blinked, clearly shocked, but her expression softened as she quickly recovered and smiled brightly. "Okay. Alright. That's okay. Totally okay."
She took a seat on the edge of the bed, her long hair falling loosely over one shoulder. "I'm Charlotte," she said, her tone a mix of warmth and relief. "We've been friends since sixth grade. I've basically been living at this hospital since they brought you in. When you didn't wake up after the first day, Luke bailed. But I didn't leave."
Adeline's brow furrowed. "Luke…?"
Charlotte's grin faltered, the light in her eyes dimming as her jaw tightened. "That son of a bitch," she muttered under her breath. "I told you he was trash. Even before the accident, you knew something was off with him—the way he treated you. Always controlling. Always distant."
She crossed her arms over her chest, her posture hardening with frustration. "And don't even get me started on Hazel."
The name hit Adeline like a jolt to her chest. The sensation was sharp, sudden, and painful.
Charlotte saw it. Her eyes softened, then sharpened with anger. "Yeah. That Hazel. The sweet little sister act is all a facade. She's been playing you this whole time. I don't care if you've forgotten everything—you're better off forgetting those people."
Adeline looked down at her hands, a weight settling in her chest. "I don't even know what day it is."
Charlotte's face softened, and she reached out gently, her hand resting on Adeline's. "Then we start again. Together."
For the first time, something flickered in Adeline's chest—warmth, fragile and tentative. Not memory, but something almost like trust.