The city outside her apartment window looked different when you weren't rushing to work.
Too quiet. Too bright. Too painfully still.
Amelia sat at the edge of her bed, the HR letter trembling in her hand.
> "Effective immediately, you are placed on temporary suspension pending internal review."
She read it three times, and each time it hit harder — like the words themselves wanted to crush her.
Her laptop, her ID card, her office access badge — all packed neatly in a small box beside her bed.
The corporate world had spat her out as quickly as it had swallowed her.
Lydia, bless her chaotic soul, had already sent a meme of someone being "fired for being too efficient," but even that couldn't pull a smile from Amelia today.
Not when everything she'd worked for was slipping away again.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair.
"All I ever do is start over," she muttered to herself.
Then her phone buzzed.
The screen lit up — Aunt Chloe.
Her heart softened. "Hey, Auntie," she said, trying to sound normal. "You're up early."
But the voice on the other end wasn't Aunt Chloe's.
It was small, shaky — her son, Ethan.
"Mommy?"
Amelia froze. "Ethan? Sweetheart, why are you calling from Aunt Chloe's phone? Is everything okay?"
A quiet sniffle. "Mommy… Aunt Chloe fell. She's in the hospital. They said she's not waking up."
Her heart plummeted.
"What? When? Where are you right now?"
"I'm with Auntie Maya," he said between sobs. "She said we have to pray. But Mommy… she's not moving."
Amelia's eyes burned. "Listen to me, baby. Stay with Maya, okay? Don't be scared. I'm coming."
"But, Mommy—your work—"
She swallowed hard. "Forget work. You're what matters."
---
The moment the call ended, she was already grabbing her passport, throwing clothes into a suitcase with trembling hands.
Her mind blurred between panic and prayer.
Within the hour, she was in a taxi heading to the airport, calling every airline like her life depended on it.
And in a way, it did.
"Next available flight to Manchester," she told the attendant breathlessly. "I don't care what it costs."
When she finally got her boarding pass, she sat in the departure lounge, staring blankly at her reflection in the glass wall.
Her eyes looked hollow — a woman caught between two worlds.
One that had just suspended her, and another that might soon break her completely.
---
Hours later, she landed.
The hospital's fluorescent lights hit her like a slap — harsh, sterile, unforgiving.
"Relative of Chloe Williams?" the nurse asked.
"Yes, her niece. Amelia Jones."
The nurse's eyes softened. "She's stable, but in a medically induced coma. You can see her, but please don't expect—"
"I just need to see her," Amelia cut in.
---
Inside the hospital room, Aunt Chloe lay pale and still, her chest rising and falling only with the help of machines.
The sight nearly broke her.
She took the older woman's frail hand in both of hers.
"Auntie," she whispered, tears spilling freely. "You promised you'd wait until I came home. You can't leave now. You're all I've got."
The steady beeping of the heart monitor was her only reply.
---
Later that night, after putting her kids to bed in Chloe's guest room, Amelia sat alone by the hospital window.
Outside, rain tapped against the glass like quiet grief.
Her phone buzzed.
Christopher King.
She stared at it for a long time before answering.
"Mr. King."
"I heard about your aunt," his voice said — lower, softer than usual. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you," she whispered. "She's in a coma."
Silence hummed on the line. Then:
"If you need anything, call me."
She laughed bitterly. "I doubt you mean that."
He didn't reply. The line clicked dead.
Amelia exhaled shakily, pressing the phone to her chest.
Everything hurt — her job, her family, her heart.
But she wasn't giving up. Not this time.
She looked back at her aunt, her voice steady despite the tears.
"You took me in when no one else did. You made sure my kids had a home. I'm not letting you go that easily, Aunt Chloe."
---
End of Chapter 18