Chapter 37 — Melissa's waking (1)
Jeff returned on a quiet afternoon.
No announcement, No fanfare.
Violet only realized he was back when she saw him standing outside Melissas hospital room, coat draped over one arm, glasses slightly crooked like he'd forgotten to adjust them.
He looked thinner.
Tired.
But his eyes—his eyes were different.
Focused.
Alive.
"Jeff?" Violet asked softly.
He turned.
For a second, he just stared at her, like he needed to make sure she was real.
Then he said the words she had been waiting years to hear.
"I found a way."
Violet's breath caught.
"…A way?" she whispered.
"To wake her," Jeff said. His voice shook despite his effort to steady it. "It's not guaranteed. Nothing like this ever is. But it's real. It's been tested. And I want to try."
Violet's hands flew to her mouths, Her eyes turning blurry.
"Really!, When?" she asked.
"Tomorrow," Jeff replied. "If you'll be there."
She nodded immediately. "Of course. Of course I will."
For the first time since he'd left, Jeff smiled—small, exhausted, but genuine.
"I didn't come back for anything else," he said quietly.
They stood there for a moment, the weight of hope settling between them—fragile but precious.
Then Violet's phone vibrated.
Miss Irena.
She stepped aside to answer.
"Violet," Miss Irena said gently. "I wanted to ask if you could come by the dorm today. We need to officially clear Melissa's side of the room. Administration requires it."
Violet closed her eyes briefly.
"I understand," she said. "I'll come."
After the call ended, Violet let out a slow breath.
"I need to go clear Melissa's dorm," she told Jeff. "Since she can't do it herself."
Jeff nodded. "I'll be here with her."
"I know," Violet replied as she left.
And somehow, for the first time, that felt enough.
.
.
.
.
.
Getting to Imperial High, Violet called Andrea.
She sat on the stone steps outside the dorm, afternoon light warming her knees, phone pressed to her ear like it anchored her in place.
He picked up immediately.
"Hey," Andrea said, fond amusement already in his voice. "I was just about to come get you."
Violet smiled—but it wavered.
"Andrea…" she said softly. "I'm really sorry. I need to cancel our date."
There was a pause.
Not the heavy kind. Not the disappointed kind.
Just space.
"Okay," he said calmly. "What's going on?"
The way he asked—no accusation, no pressure—made her chest tighten.
She told him everything.
Jeff being back.
The plan to try waking Melissa.
The call from Miss Irena.
Clearing the dorm.
She didn't rush. And he didn't interrupt once.
When she finished, there was a brief silence.
Then—
"I can come with you," Andrea offered gently.
Violet closed her eyes.
"No," she said quietly. "I… I need to do this alone. I think I owe her that."
His voice softened instantly.
"I figured," he said. "I just wanted you to know you don't have to be strong by yourself."
Her throat tightened.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know we planned this."
"You don't need to apologize," Andrea replied without hesitation. "This matters. And I'm proud of you for not running away from it."
Inside her mind, Vira made a soft, disgusted sound.
"...Emotionally healthy. How deeply unfortunate."
Violet smiled despite the sting in her eyes.
"I'll see you tonight?" Andrea asked.
"Yes," she said, relief blooming quietly in her chest.
A small pause.
Then, softer— "I love you."
Her shoulders relaxed fully for the first time all day.
"I love you too." he replied.
Vira sighed, "long-suffering".
"Tragic. Absolutely tragic. She's down bad".
Violet ended the call with a quiet laugh, warmth lingering long after the screen went dark.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Melissa's and Violet dorm room was exactly how Violet left it, pink.
Pink.
But the only difference now is it being dusty.
Too untouched.
room 502 now felt emptier than Violet remembered.
Violet stood in the doorway for a moment before stepping inside.
"She can't clear it herself," Violet murmured, more to the room than to anyone else. "So I'll do it."
She started with the desk, Then the bed, Then the wardrobe.
Melissa's clothes were arranged carefully—color-coordinated, folded just so.
Violet worked quietly, efficiently.
She hadn't meant to stay long.
Just enough to clear out what needed to be stored.
Just enough to make space.
Until her fingers brushed against something strange at the back of the wardrobe.
A seam, Hidden.
She frowned.
Carefully, she pressed.
Click.
A small compartment slid open, Her fingers brushed against glass.
She paused.
Slowly, she pulled it out, A small bottle.
Pink, Heart-shaped.
The perfume.
The one she had given Melissa, The one Melissa had been so happy to get.
The gift, The one she had never seen again.
Violet lifted it slowly, her fingers trembling.
"…You kept it," she whispered.
The bottle showed sign of being-used. Since it was small, but not too small
It was clearly cherished with the way it was hidden.
Saved.
Vira's voice softened in her mind.
Host… maybe she always planned to come back.
Violet swallowed hard, She closed the compartment gently and held the perfume to her chest.
And without knowing why— She decided.
Tomorrow, she would bring it to the hospital, She stared at the perfume for a long moment.
She remembered that day—Melissa's awkward smile, the way she had snatched it like it mattered too much to admit. The way she'd ask to be friends, The last day.
Why did she even reject being friends, why couldn't she accept the friendship when Melissa offered.
Violet's throat tightened.
She closed the drawer, hesitated,then slipped the bottle into her bag
.
.
.
.
.
The hospital was quiet that evening.
Not the urgent kind of quiet—but the heavy one. The kind that settled into walls and refused to leave.
Melissa lay as she always did.
Still breathing but unaware.
Violet pulled a chair closer and sat down, folding her hands carefully on her lap.
For a while, she didn't speak.
Then—
"I found it," Violet said softly.
She took the perfume out of her bag and set it on the bedside table.
"The pink perfume."
Her lips curved faintly. "You liked pink. I don't know why I'm saying that like I didn't already know."
The machines hummed, Melissa didn't respond.
Violet reached out and gently , one hand held Melissas hand while the other stroke her hair
Melissa's hands were warm, Always warm.
"I cleared the dorm today," she continued quietly. "I thought it would hurt less if I did."
Her voice wavered.
"But honestly? It just feels unfinished."
She swallowed. "Jeff says he's going to try waking you tomorrow," Violet whispered. "He won't say it out loud, but I can see it in his eyes. He hasn't given up. None of us have."
Her grip tightened slightly.
"I know you're tired," she murmured. "I know you didn't ask for any of this."
Her shoulders trembled.
"But if you can hear me—even a little—please don't stay gone."
Violet lowered her head.
"I'm selfish," she admitted. "I want you back. I want you to open your eyes and complain and argue and pretend you don't care." A quiet breath escaped her "I want you to live."
She reached for the perfume, Just one press.
The scent bloomed softly in the air—sweet, gentle, familiar.
Pink heart-shaped hope bottled in glass.
"It smells like flowers, and since you really liked it," Violet said faintly. "I thought maybe… it might help."
She placed the bottle back down carefully.
Then she stood.
"I'll come again tomorrow," Violet said. "I always do."
She brushed Melissa's hair back gently, leaned down, kissed her forehead and whispered—
"Goodnight."
Then she turned and left.
The door closed softly behind her.
The room returned to its hum.
Still, Quiet, Unchanged.
Or so it seemed.
Minutes passed.
Then—
Melissa's fingers twitched.
Once.
So small it might have been missed.
A faint, unconscious movement—like a thread being pulled back into place.
The scent lingered.
And somewhere deep inside a sleeping mind— Something remembered.
And stirred.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Andrea was already waiting when Violet stepped out of the hospital that night.
Not pacing. Not distracted.
Just leaning against the car, hands in his pockets, like he'd been there exactly as long as she needed him to be.
When he saw her, he straightened.
"There you are," he said gently, eyes flicking over her face. "You okay?"
Violet exhaled. "I think… yeah. Tired."
"Come here," he said pulling her into a hug.
A much needed one for violet.
They both stood there under the moonlight, enjoying each other's warmth in a peaceful silent.
Violet felt comforted more than ever.
A few minutes later.
He opened the passenger door for her, waited until she was settled before closing it softly.
As they drove, the city lights slid past the windows. The radio played low—something slow, something calm.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Andrea glanced at her.
"You smell different."
She blinked. "Different?"
He smiled faintly. "Sweeter. Not… hospital."
Her fingers curled in her lap. "It's Melissa's perfume. One I gave her before the fall, I found it today."
The smile faded into something quieter.
"Oh," he said. "That's… kind of beautiful."
Inside her mind, Vira muttered, "Against my will, I agree".
Violet reached over and laced her fingers through his.
He squeezed back immediately, thumb tracing slow, grounding circles against her skin.
"You didn't eat," he said after a moment.
She looked at him. "How do you know?"
"Your hands are cold," he replied simply. "And you forget when you're overwhelmed."
Vira sighed, then said teasingly "He notices everything. I hate this man".
At a red light, Andrea stopped and turned toward her fully.
"Hey," he said softly. "You don't have to hold it together with me."
Violet swallowed. "…I know."
He leaned in and kissed her knuckles—slow, deliberate.
Then, gently, he kissed her.
Not hurried. Not desperate.
Just warm.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers.
"Next time," he murmured, "don't cancel."
She smiled faintly. "I didn't. I postponed."
His lips curved. "Good. Because I already planned the dessert."
Vira made a tired sound.
"I am surrounded by romance and no one asked me if I wanted this".
The light turned green.
Andrea pulled back and drove on.
"Uni?" he asked.
"Yes," Violet said softly.
And for once— home didn't feel like a place.
It felt like the steady hand holding hers all the way back.
.
.
.
.
.
The next day
It was finally time.
The hospital room smelled the same as it always had.
Disinfectant. Plastic. A faint, constant hum.
Machines lined the wall beside Melissa's bed, their steady beeping marking time more faithfully than any clock. Four years of numbers, waves, and lights—proof that her body had stayed, even when she had not.
Jeff stood at the foot of the bed, hands in his coat pockets, shoulders tight.
He hadn't stood here as a doctor before, Only as a boy.
Now he was both.
"She's stable," the attending physician said quietly, watching Jeff rather than the monitors. "Vitals haven't changed."
Jeff nodded once.
"They won't," he replied. "Not yet."
Violet stood near the window, arms folded tightly around herself. She didn't interrupt. She didn't ask questions. She had learned—over years—that hope was something you handled carefully.
Jeff stepped closer to the bed.
Melissa looked the same.
Too thin. Too pale. Her lashes rested softly against her cheeks, unmoving. The cast had long since been removed, but her body still carried the memory of impact—of a fall that should have ended her.
Jeff exhaled slowly.
"Melissa," he said, His voice didn't shake, that mattered.
"I'm back."
The machines didn't react, but Jeff didn't expect them to.
He pulled a chair closer and sat, bringing himself to eye level with her. Then, carefully, he took her hand.
It was warm.
Alive, that was enough.
"For years," he continued softly, "we treated coma like sleep. Like waiting. Like you were somewhere else."
He smiled faintly.
"We were wrong."
The doctor shifted slightly, attentive now.
Jeff reached into his pocket and removed a small device—no wires, no dramatic lights. Just a thin neural interface pad, which he gently placed behind Melissa's ear.
"This doesn't force you awake," he explained, more to Violet than anyone else. "It listens first."
He adjusted the settings, The monitor changed, Subtle. Barely noticeable.
Violet took a step forward then stopped.
Afraid.
.
.
.
Jeff leaned closer to Melissa.
"Your brain didn't shut down," he said. "It retreated."
He swallowed.
"After trauma, sometimes the mind decides staying silent is safer than coming back."
His thumb brushed gently over the back of her hand.
"So we don't shout," he murmured. "We remind."
He pressed a button, A sound filled the room.
Not loud, Not sudden.
Soft.
Wind through trees, Footsteps on gravel, A school bell, distant and familiar.
Violet's breath caught.
Jeff watched the monitor.
A spike.
Small—but real.
"There," he whispered.
The doctor stiffened. "That's—"
"Recognition," Jeff finished. "Memory response."
He leaned in again.
"Melissa," he said gently. "You fell."
His voice lowered.
"But it's not the end, you didn't disappear."
Another spike.
Her fingers twitched.
Vira who saw the twitch screamed internally: "host pink barbie is moving".
Violet gasped softly, hand flying to her mouth.
Jeff didn't move, Didn't rush, Didn't smile.
He waited.
"People waited for you," he continued. "Even when you couldn't answer."
A pause.
"And I promised something."
His voice finally cracked—just a little. "I promised I'd learn how to bring you back."
Silence stretched.
The monitor pulsed again, Stronger.
Melissa's brow furrowed.
Her breathing hitched.
Vira:" host, she's waking, she's waking up".
"Jeff—" Violet whispered.
"I know," he said quietly. "I see it."
He squeezed Melissa's hand once.
Not tightly, Not desperately.
"Come back when you're ready," he said. "We're not leaving."
For a long moment—nothing happened.
Then— Melissa's fingers curled.
Just barely.
Her lips parted.
Air caught in her throat as if she had forgotten how to breathe.
The machines reacted sharply now , making everyone panic a little.
"Melissa?" Violet whispered, tears slipping free.
Melissa lashes fluttered.
Once, Twice.
Then slowly—so slowly it felt unreal—her eyes opened.
"J… Jeff?" she rasped.
The sound shattered Violet.
Jeff's knees nearly buckled.sharply.
He hadn't cried when she fell.
He hadn't cried when he left the country.
But now his shoulders shook once — just once — before he caught himself.
"Yes," he said, smiling through tears. "I'm here."