Mira woke before the first checks. The ward was dim and quiet except for the steady beep of monitors and the hush of air vents. She lay still and counted her breaths until the heaviness in her chest settled. She felt tired in the old way and in a new way. The new way sat in her arms and face like heat that did not leave when the room cooled.
Patel came near sunrise with a soft knock. "Morning, Mira. Wash and teeth?"
"Yes."
They did it in the usual order. Mira noted, as she always did, that Patel named each step before touching her. It helped. She liked the predictability. When Patel finished brushing Mira's hair, she asked, "Cardigan?"
"Yes."
"Breakfast in half an hour. Toast or porridge?"
"Toast."
Patel paused. "Any dizziness when you sat up?"
"A little."
"We'll go slow."
When Patel left, Mira rested her fingers on the blanket. The fabric was warm from the dryer. She counted the things she could control. Sit. Ask for the list of people with access to the monitor. Sign only what she could hear read aloud. Keep the tonic at half dose. These were small things, but they drew a line around the day.
The television was on low volume. A presenter spoke in a calm voice that carried badly through the curtains. "…police are asking for witnesses who may have seen a man leaving Barrow Lane between eleven and midnight. The victim, Doctor Ian Merrow, was found with injuries consistent with an assault. Investigators are reviewing footage from nearby shops and transport stops. A spokesperson declined to comment on reports of missing case files…"
A second voice came in to talk about rain and heat spikes. "…another band of storms expected this evening. Power companies warn of possible interruptions. Astronomers say the meteor fragment will pass visible to the naked eye in some areas. They continue to stress there is no danger to the public."
Mira listened to each segment once. Then she closed her eyes and repeated the names and places silently so they would not drift away. Barrow Lane. Missing files. No danger to the public.
Harland arrived just before the tea trolley. He did not wait for a response to his knock. "Good morning." He sat, open folder in his hand, and smiled. "Numbers look good."
"I feel the same," Mira said.
"Steady is good," he said. "Discharge today, late afternoon."
"With the caretakers."
"Yes. They will accompany you home, settle you in, and coordinate the first week."
"Who is Ms. Troy?" Mira asked.
"Our administrator."
"I want to meet her before I sign anything."
"She's unavailable," Harland said at once. "But she prepared your documents. We'll review the essentials here. The rest can be handled at home."
"I want copies of everything I sign."
"You'll receive summaries."
"I want copies," Mira repeated.
Harland's smile dimmed. "We have a process."
"Then follow it," Mira said, even. "I'll follow it too."
He shifted in his chair. "Your focus should be rest and recovery. The rest is administrative."
"It is my life," Mira said. "I want to see what people write in my name."
Harland closed the folder. "We'll do what we can today. The rest you'll receive after discharge."
"When?"
"Soon."
She said nothing. The silence stretched. He stood. "Eat something," he said, and left.
The tea trolley rattled past. Toast arrived. Mira ate slowly. She did not taste much, but she finished one slice. She forced herself to drink the tea even though it had cooled. Steps moved past the curtain. Voices traded short sentences in the hallway. It was a normal morning. She felt the normality as a cover over something else.
Nora came mid-morning with her usual energy. "There you are," she said softly. "You look better today."
"Do I?"
"Yes. Color in your face. I brought you a banana in case the toast is useless."
"Thank you." Mira reached and found Nora's hand on the tray, then the banana. "Sit?"
"I will." The chair squeaked. "I spoke to the pharmacist around the corner from us. She said she can prepare large-print labels for your medicine boxes if you want. No charge. She has a cousin who is visually impaired. She said it helps."
"That would help. Thank you."
Nora leaned closer. "I checked the path to your door this morning. The step is uneven. I'll talk to the council about a repair. If they drag their feet, I'll find someone to level it. I don't want you tripping."
Mira smiled. "You think about everything."
"I think about everything in a five-house radius," Nora said, lighter. "After five houses, you're on your own."
Mira laughed. It came out small but real. She relaxed a little. With Nora, the room felt less like a place where other people made decisions.
Nora lowered her voice. "The news about that doctor is unpleasant. If anyone calls asking about you, hang up and tell me. Don't answer questions."
"Who would call me?"
"Journalists. Or people pretending to be. The world doesn't mind turning private things into small talk."
"I won't answer," Mira said.
"Good." Nora stood. "I'll come back after lunch with a proper sandwich and see if the discharge circus has started. I'll ride in the taxi with you if they let me."
"Thank you."
"Always," Nora said, and left.
The room was quieter when she was gone. Mira reached for the banana and peeled it carefully. She ate it slowly and then washed her hands at the small sink with Patel's help. The air in the ward felt warmer than usual. The lights hummed a little.
Selina and Kael arrived after lunch. Selena's voice came first. "Ready for the plan?"
"Yes."
"We'll do the discharge papers as soon as Admin brings them. We'll get your prescriptions from the pharmacy downstairs. We'll take you home by cab. We'll install a small chime on your monitor table so you can find the button quickly at night. We'll put the access list on your fridge and give a copy to your neighbor, if you want."
"I want."
"We'll set up the kitchen so nothing heavy is above shoulder height. We'll label everything. We'll put the cane near the door. If you want, we can add small tactile stickers to the cooktop so you can set heat by touch."
"That would help."
Kael spoke quietly from the foot of the bed. "We'll move any loose rugs."
"Thank you," Mira said.
Selina paused. "How did the tonic feel last night after we left?"
"Hot. Strong. It passed."
"Any headache?"
"No."
"We'll keep it at half for three nights," Selina said. "Then we reassess."
"Patel will be present each time until we're sure," Mira said.
"Agreed," Selina said. "She's on the chart for tonight."
A clerk from Admin arrived with a slim folder and a borrowed smile. "Forms for Miss Halden."
"Put them on the tray," Mira said. "Read the titles."
The clerk read each title. Mira asked for the ones that sounded like consent or access or release. She asked the clerk to read them line by line. It took time. The clerk hurried twice. Selina slowed her with a short word and a pause. Mira listened to every sentence and asked questions each time a line referenced "authorized personnel" or "maintenance access." She made the clerk name the company on the monitor agreement. She made her read the emergency access clause twice. Then Mira asked for a duplicate copy of everything she signed.
"We don't usually—" the clerk began.
"I won't sign without copies," Mira said.
The clerk went away and came back with copies. Mira signed. She listened to each page slide into a plastic sleeve. She listened to the folder snap shut. When the clerk left, she let out a small breath she hadn't noticed she was holding.
Patel arrived to remove the line and cover the dressing. "Taxi in twenty minutes," she said. "Do you need anti-nausea for the ride?"
"No."
"Good." Patel's voice lowered. "When you're home, count the hours of your day, not the steps. Send for help if you feel off. Don't be brave in silence."
"I won't."
Patel squeezed her shoulder and went to get the discharge bag.
The cab ride was short. The sky was a flat gray that threatened rain but did not deliver it. The air felt heavy. Power lines hummed louder than usual. Mira sat upright in the back seat with Selina beside her. Kael rode in the front. Nora insisted on paying the fare at the end and argued with the driver about rounding up until he accepted and laughed.
At the flat, Nora unlocked the gate and held it open. Selina helped Mira step down. Kael stood at the door with the exact patience of a person who waited for a correct moment. Mira felt the texture of the railing under her palm and relaxed. She knew this shape. She knew the path. She counted five steps and found the threshold. She breathed and stepped inside.
The house smelled familiar: tea, dust, the scent of laundry soap from the cupboard. The monitor in the sitting room blinked its small green light. It hummed in a way that made the room feel less empty. Selina opened windows a little to change the air. Kael went room to room, silent, checking doors and latches and corners. He moved like someone who did not want to leave traces. He moved like someone who already knew where everything was.
Nora set a bag on the counter. "Bread, eggs, fruit, milk. There's soup in my fridge if you want it later. Ring me if you need anything. I'm right there."
"Thank you," Mira said.
Selina started on the kitchen. She asked permission each time she moved an item. She shifted the heavy pots lower. She put knives in a safe position. She labeled the tins with thick stickers Mira could feel with her fingers. She explained where she put things twice, then asked Mira to repeat the map back. She did not rush. Kael removed the small rug from near the sink and folded it away. He stuck tactile dots on the cooktop and showed Mira the position of low, medium, and high heat by touch. He checked the smoke alarm and changed the battery without being asked.
In the sitting room, Selina set the access list on the fridge and handed Nora a copy. "If service shows up at odd hours, ring me first," she said. "If we're not here, ring the agency and then ring the clinic. Names and numbers are on the sheet."
Nora nodded. "If they come at odd hours, I'll also take a photo of them and their van and make a fuss. That tends to clear problems."
"Good," Selina said. "Do that."
Mira sat in her chair near the window and listened to the house settle around the four of them. She liked the sound of people moving in her space and not making it theirs. When Selina moved a chair, she told Mira. When Kael tested the back door, he told her. When Nora found a loose screw on the key hook and tightened it, she announced it so Mira could store the change.
An hour later, the house was arranged. Selina put the tonic on the monitor table and locked the rest of the discharge bag in a small cupboard. "We start at eight. Half dose," she said. "Nurse Patel will join by phone to listen in if she can't get here in person." She checked her watch. "I'll step out for twenty minutes to collect a kettle I promised to bring. Kael will stay. Nora is next door. Do you want a nap?"
"Yes," Mira said. "I'll lie down for a bit."
Kael helped Mira to the bed. He did it without touching her more than necessary. He moved like someone who had practiced not startling people. He left the door open and sat in the sitting room where he could hear the monitor. Nora said she would go make tea and wave through the window in twenty minutes to check.
The house was quiet. Mira closed her eyes. She did not sleep. She listened. She heard Kael's breathing in the next room and the soft tick of the clock. She heard the occasional car pass on the street. She heard the fridge hum and the monitor blink.
Through the wall, she heard Nora's radio. The volume was low. A newsreader's voice drifted through a gap in the sash. "…authorities are looking into possible links between the death of Doctor Ian Merrow and a theft reported at a private clinic last week. A spokesperson would not confirm whether patient records were taken…"
Mira opened her eyes. She did not move. She repeated the words plainly in her head so she would not forget them. Private clinic. Theft. Records.
Selina returned on time with a kettle in a box. Kael set it up. Nora arrived with a tin of proper tea and a small jar of honey. "You need this more than hospital packets," she said.
At seven-thirty, Patel called to say she could not leave the ward but would stay on the line while Mira tried the tonic. Selina measured half a dose, mixed it with water, and put the cup in Mira's hand. "Slow," Selina said. "Stop if you feel wrong."
Mira drank. It tasted sweet at first and then metallic. She waited, counted to sixty, then to one hundred. Heat moved up her throat and across her face. She felt the same strange push on her skin as before, like the air pressed against her. The monitor blinked steadily. Kael watched it. Nora watched Mira's face and said nothing. The overhead light gave a short, soft flicker and steadied.
"How is it?" Patel asked from the phone speaker.
"Hot," Mira said. "Bearable."
"Pulse is fine," Kael said.
"We'll keep it at half for now," Selina said to the phone. "No other changes."
"Good," Patel said. "If she feels odd in the next hour, stop. Call if you need me."
They ended the call. Nora brought the tea. "Sip this. It will take the taste away."
Mira sipped. The honey helped. She felt tired again. The tiredness was deeper than ordinary. It carried a weight that did not belong to the day.
"Do you want to sleep?" Selina asked.
"Yes."
"Go," Selina said softly. "We'll stay until you're under and then we'll sit in the other room."
Mira lay down and closed her eyes. She did not fight sleep.
She dreamed fast. There was water in the dark and a white flower. When she turned her head in the dream, light ran along hair that was not brown. She woke once and did not open her eyes because the after-image brightened the world more than the room itself. She swallowed and let sleep take her again.
While Mira slept, Kael stood by the bedroom doorway and watched the rise and fall of the blanket. He did not move. Selina sat in the sitting room with the folder of copies and made a list of items to request from Admin: large-print labels, schedule printouts, a repair for the uneven step. She wrote in plain language. She kept her sentences short. If she had other plans, she did not write them.
Nora washed the mugs in the kitchen quietly and dried them. She put them back in the cupboard. She wiped the counter even though it did not need it. She looked at the locked drawer where the discharge bag sat. She did not touch it.
At nine, Selina stood. "We'll go and come back at eight in the morning. Keep the phone near you. Call if anything changes."
Mira was awake but did not move yet. "Okay."
Kael checked the back door again. He checked the window latch again. He turned off the overhead light and left the small lamp on. He placed the cane by the bed with the handle angled the way Mira preferred. He did not say good night. He left quietly.
Nora walked them to the door. "I'm next door," she said. "I'll listen."
Selina nodded. "Thank you."
When they were gone, Nora came back in. "I'll sit for a bit in the chair," she said from the doorway. "I won't talk. I'll just be here."
"Okay," Mira said.
They sat in the quiet. The monitor blinked. The fridge hummed. The street outside was calm. The heaviness in Mira's face and arms did not fully leave. She did not mention it.
At ten, Nora stood. "I'll go. Call me if you wake and want tea or company."
"Thank you," Mira said. "Good night."
"Good night, love." Nora left and locked the door behind her.
The flat settled. Mira listened to the silence long enough to feel certain it would hold. She drifted. She woke to the sound of her phone buzzing on the table. A number she did not know. She let it ring out. She waited. It rang again. She answered and said nothing.
A man's voice, quiet and crisp, came through. "Miss Halden?"
"Yes."
"This is the clinic. We wanted to check you settled in safely after discharge."
"Who is this?" Mira asked.
"Admin support," he said. "Just following up."
"What is your name?" she asked.
A short pause. "Callum."
"What is your last name, Callum?"
Another pause. "I'm new," he said, and ended the call.
Mira put the phone down and sat still. She felt the weight under her ribs and counted three slow breaths. Then she wrote a short note on the phone: Unnamed admin caller. New. Would not give last name. Called twice. She saved it and put the phone back.
She slept again.
Across town, in a quiet office, Harland spoke to Ms. Troy without the smile he wore for patients. "I said to confirm contact," he said. "You gave me a boy who cannot even say a last name."
"Front desk was short tonight," Troy said. "I pulled a temp."
"No more temps," Harland said. "Use our people."
Troy checked a list on her screen. "Nora confirmed she attended discharge. She has access."
"Good." Harland leaned back in his chair. "We proceed with Nora as the point of contact. She can manage the soft work. If the caretakers interfere, we escalate."
"And the Merrow problem?"
Harland's mouth tightened. "Let the police chase rumors. We have nothing to do with that."
Troy did not respond.
"Send the monthly report to Donor Group B by Friday," Harland said. "Highlight progress. Keep the numbers clean."
"And the records the girl asked for?"
"Delay," Harland said. "Send summaries. Nothing else."
Troy nodded once. "Understood."
Back on Mira's street, clouds thickened. The streetlights flickered and steadied. A cat hid under a car and watched the open sky as if it expected it to do something new.
Near midnight, Nora left her flat again. She wore a dark jacket and carried a small tote. She walked to the corner, turned down the next street, and entered a shop that should have been closed. The bell did not ring. The man at the counter glanced up and did not greet her. She handed him a phone and some papers. He scanned the papers, then handed them back without comment.
"Tomorrow," Nora said.
"Fine," the man said.
She left the shop and came back the long way so as not to pass Mira's window. She did not look up.
The next morning's news repeated old lines and added small details. "Police are reviewing footage from Barrow Lane. Witnesses reported seeing two individuals in dark clothing near the scene around eleven-thirty. Investigators are also looking into a theft reported last week at a private clinic. It is not yet known if the two cases are connected."
The presenter switched to weather. "Power companies recorded unusual surges overnight. Engineers blame atmospheric conditions. Astronomers say the meteor fragment may cause visible trails this week. Again, there is no danger to the public."
In her sleep, Mira turned her head. Light moved behind her eyes in a way that belonged to dreams and not to the room. In the dream, water ran over stone. When she reached out through the dream, she saw hair that was not brown for the second time. When she woke, her hands were warm and the air near her cheek felt charged.
She pressed her palm to her chest and breathed. The heaviness did not lift right away. She counted. She waited for it to behave. It did, eventually. She sat up and reached for the cane.
At seven-fifty, Kael knocked and let himself in with the spare key the agency kept in a sealed envelope. He showed her the unbroken seal before opening it the first time yesterday and left it on the table in case she wanted to glue it shut again. He said, "Morning," in his quiet voice and checked the monitor light. He replaced the sealed envelope with a new one he had brought. He wrote the number of the seal on the access sheet. He looked at the lock and the chain and did not say what he thought of them.
At eight, Selina came with breakfast and exact lists. She read the day's plan out loud. She asked three questions that sounded like ordinary questions but also like tests of the system: "Who called you last night?" "Did anyone come to the door?" "Do you want to change the timing of your tonic?" She listened to each answer without judgment and changed the plan only where Mira wanted it changed.
At eight-thirty, Nora knocked, came in with a soft hello, and put fresh milk in the fridge. She poured tea and carried it carefully to the chair by the window. She told Mira that the council had logged the step repair and might come within a week. She did not mention the shop she had visited at midnight. She told a funny story about the cat and a plastic bag. Mira laughed. The room felt normal.
Selina watched Nora the way people watch kettles. Kael watched both and watched the window and watched the door.
The day began.
And somewhere else in the city, two officers in plain clothes watched the Barrow Lane footage frame by frame and paused at a shadow that did not blur when the camera stuttered. They rewound. They watched again. They printed a still. One of them said, "Hard to tell," and the other said, "We'll ask around," and the file moved a little farther down the table.
By nightfall, the sky did what the presenter had promised. Lines of light traced through the cloud, slow and thin. People came outside to point at them. Phones came up. Children laughed. Adults stood still. Some said it was beautiful. Some said it made them feel strange.
In Mira's flat, the lamp was on low and the curtains were half closed. The green light on the monitor blinked as always. Selina wrote notes in a plain notebook. Kael stood by the window and did not move. Nora told Mira that the lights in the sky looked like chalk lines on a blackboard.
Mira turned her face toward the window. She could not see the sky, but for a breath she felt a cool lift across her skin as if outside air had come into the room without opening the window. She did not speak. She listened to the house hold. She waited for the next small thing to add to her list.
She did not know that hours earlier Nora had unlocked her door, crossed her floor, and opened her drawers while she lay in a hospital bed. She did not know that Harland had decided which papers she could see and which she could not. She did not know what the tonic would do to her if she kept drinking it. She knew only that she had to keep the rules she had set for herself: ask three questions; sign nothing unread; trust nobody with the keys to her head.
Outside, the lines of light faded. On the news, a presenter said again that there was no danger to the public. In the city, a few people slept badly without knowing why.
Mira slept with the phone on the table and the cane by the bed. Selina and Kael wrote one last note each and left. Nora locked her own door and turned off her radio. Harland stared at a spreadsheet until the numbers stopped meaning anything and then went home.
The street was quiet. The green light blinked. The night held. The day behind it waited.