Chapter 15
Anna
It felt like I was awake, yet my eyes refused to open. My eyelids were heavy, as if they had forgotten how to lift. I could hear everything, the muffled beeps, quiet footsteps, the low hum of voices, but it was like I was outside my own body, watching, listening, trapped.
That was my dad’s voice. Warm, steady, familiar. But there was someone else too, a deeper tone. Calm. Careful. Almost… protective. Was he my doctor?
I tried to move. To lift a hand. A finger. Nothing responded. My body wouldn’t obey.
Where was I?
The sound of wheels rolling, the shuffle of papers, the quiet clink of instruments told me everything. A hospital. Names floated through the air, some familiar, some not. Were they talking about me?
Where was Michael? Was he okay? Were we too late? Did we miss our honeymoon?
A flutter rose in my chest. That voice again. Kind. Gentle. Even without seeing him, I felt the care in his voice. Someone was here with me. Watching over me.
I tried to move. To force my eyes open. But the darkness didn’t lift. My body stayed distant, unresponsive.
All I could do was listen and remember.
Michael’s voice came back to me first. The way his hand fit into mine, easy and natural. A touch I thought I would always recognize.
And then… something else.
A different presence. Strong. Calm. Steady. It didn’t demand anything from me.
Voices cut through my thoughts.
Two women. Soft, hushed, like they believed no one could hear them.
“It’s the first time she came to visit her friend,” one of them said.
“That’s because she came with the friend’s husband,” the other replied.
A pause. Curiosity slipping in.
“What’s her name?”
“I think it’s Veronica.”
Veronica?
A knot formed in my chest. Were they talking about my Veronica?
“Yes, Veronica,” the second voice confirmed. “She’s been here every day. Visiting her friend’s husband. But she's never once checked on her friend.”
“That’s… sneaky.”
The words landed like a slap. My thoughts tangled, and I was helpless. Veronica is visiting Michael every day and not me.
They had no idea I could hear them. No idea I was here, trapped inside myself, absorbing every word.
Then I heard the doctor.
The shift in the room was immediate, even without sight. I recognized that presence. The way you recognize a familiar song before the lyrics begin. His scent reached me first, clean, subtle, nothing overpowering. Soap, maybe aftershave. Comforting. Grounding.
I missed him when he wasn’t here. The realization startled me.
“Dr. Collins, she’s all yours,” one of the nurses said.
Footsteps faded. Voices dissolved. And then there was only him. The quiet. The steady rhythm of machines. His voice as he checked my vitals, gentle, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.
Dr. Collins.
The name echoed in my mind.
Why did it sound so familiar?
Something stirred, an image, a memory just out of reach.
It can’t be him.
I wanted to acknowledge him. To scream his name. To let him know I was here, that I could hear him, feel him.
But my body betrayed me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t open my eyes.
So I stayed still… listening to the voice I already knew, holding onto it like an anchor in the dark.