Chapter 9 The Cost of Fear #3
I tilt my head back and stare at the night sky, only to realize it’s empty tonight—no moon, no soft silver presence tucked between the stars. My mind goes to Purple, to the way she answered that question on FYS with such clarity.
She’d chosen to be the moon.
My thoughts betray me by drawing the comparison I’ve been avoiding—a world without Violet.
The doctor’s words replay in my head, and once again my mind fills in the gaps with images.
Her alone in that car. The violence of the impact. The confusion. The fear. The helplessness. The cold.
None of this would have happened if I’d walked into that restaurant. The weight of that realization presses down, and heat stings behind my eyes as I stare at the empty sky as if it might offer absolution. As if the moon might suddenly appear and tell me this isn’t my fault.
But of course it fucking doesn’t.
The moment stretches, and just before the first trace of tears escapes my eyes, I hear footsteps approaching the entrance. I scrub a hand over my face, forcing the emotions back into the neat, silent box I’ve spent years perfecting.
When I lower my arm, Archer is walking toward me with quick, purposeful strides that slow the second his eyes land on me.
“How is she?”
I shake my head. There are no words, spoken or signed, that could properly translate the heaviness surrounding me, and I know my face betrays me anyway. The truth is written all over it.
We stand there in silence until he exhales and breaks it. “Let’s go inside.”
When we enter the waiting room, Daisy, Willow, and Elodie look up at once, surprise flashing across their faces. Willow is the first to rise, her confusion evident as her gaze moves from Archer to me.
“Archer? Is everything alright?”
“We’re here for Violet.” Archer’s words ripple through the space between us.
The truth is, we don’t belong here.
We are nothing to Violet Harper. Barely acquaintances. A shared social orbit and nothing more.
But what they don’t know yet is that while Violet may feel peripheral in my world, Purple has become my everything.
“Rowan was in Spring Falls to meet Violet,” Archer confirms and the three of them immediately turn to one another.
“But she was on a blind date,” Willow says slowly. “With a guy she met online.”
“Through FYS,” Archer adds, glancing at me. “Vincent Belmont’s app.”
And then it clicks.
“You’re Midnight?” Daisy’s eyebrows shoot up, and she stares at me like she’s seeing an entirely different person.
I nod.
“And you knew it was Violet all along?” Elodie’s eyes narrow on me.
Purple had warned me about one of her friends, the skeptical one. Now I know it was Elodie.
I glance at Archer and he gives me a brief nod, reading my request and ready as always.
“No,” I sign and Archer translates without missing a beat. “I didn’t know until tonight. I called her Purple. I had no idea FYS would match me with someone from the same city, let alone someone I knew. It’s an international app, for Christ’s sake.”
“I can’t believe this,” Willow murmurs, running a hand through her hair. “You and Violet have been talking for months. She freaking fell in love with you through your chats, and you guys had no idea.”
Her words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. And judging by the stunned silence that follows, I’m not the only one shaken by them.
Willow clears her throat, likely realizing that what she’d said wasn’t hers to share.
“I mean, I don’t know if it’s ‘love’ love.” She makes air quotes, flustered, eyes darting around the room. “But she likes you. The same way you like her. Why else would you keep talking for months?” She looks at me directly. “You like her, right?”
My nod is shorter this time. Like feels laughably insufficient for what she has come to mean to me, for the way she’s seeped into the quiet spaces of my existence and given them life.
“So you met Violet tonight?” Elodie’s gaze hasn’t moved from my face.
I nod, and only afterward do I understand what she’s asking.
Not whether I saw Violet in passing. But whether I met her as Purple. Whether the date night we had been mapping out in careful words and quiet hope had actually happened.
But I don’t correct myself. Before I share the truth of this night with anyone else, I want to tell her first. I want Violet to hear about my insecurities, my fears, the paralysis that kept me sitting in that car when I should have been walking through that door.
“Do you mind if we wait here? I can’t leave without knowing Violet is alright,” I sign, and Archer translates once again.
Three confused pairs of eyes move between Archer and me. And I realize that I have no claim here. There’s no reason for Purple’s friends to simply accept my presence here.
So I wait, bracing for questions I deserve but don’t know how to survive.
What really happened tonight? If she mattered this much to me, why was she alone on the highway?
If she was so important, why wasn’t I with her? Why was I safe in a hotel room while she was—
I can’t even finish the thought.
But no one asks anything.
Maybe the worry in the room is too heavy, or maybe my presence has thrown them off-balance. Whatever the reason, they simply share a glance before Elodie nods.
“We don’t mind,” she says, and for the first time her voice carries no edge. “And knowing Vi… she’d be very happy to see you.”
The words feel like a blessing and a curse all at once.
I nod back, unable to explain the truth pressing against my teeth.
Violet doesn’t know who I am. Not really.
She doesn’t know that the man she smiled at in the parking lot is the same one who learned her favorite weather, who memorized the way she thinks about love, and who has fallen for her in the quiet safety of anonymity.
Would she be happy to see me after knowing the truth?
Would her eyes light up or fill with disappointment, because I am me and not who she imagined?
My mind snaps back to the parking lot. The way she walked toward my car without hesitation. Her purple-highlighted hair catching the streetlight. Her smile, easy and open, like sunlight aimed straight at me.
She was beautiful. Disarmingly so. And the worst part—the part that makes guilt burn under my skin—is that she always has been.
How did I not see it until now?
I squeeze my eyes shut and tip my head back against the wall, the cool surface grounding me as my thoughts spin out of control. My mind ricochets between past and future, trying and failing to merge Violet and Purple into one whole person without breaking something vital in the process.
And then there’s her grandmother’s ring.
She showed it to me as Purple, placing sacred trust in my hand, threaded with hope, legacy, and love.
She hadn’t said marriage outright, but she didn’t have to. Purple had hinted softly that she’d like that ring to be part of her “happily ever after,” and it had felt like a promise, not pressure.
But even before she’d shown me that ring, I’d already gotten her something. Sitting in my car right now is a small box I haven’t told a soul about. Not even Archer.
It wasn’t meant as a proposal. Not exactly. It was supposed to be proof, to her and to myself, that I’m serious. That what we built in the last three months wasn’t disposable or temporary to me. That even if the world would say it’s too soon, it doesn’t feel soon.
It feels overdue.
I slide down the wall at some point, arms folded, exhaustion finally dragging me under.
Sleep takes me without permission, filled with dreams that are painfully gentle.
I dream of Violet in my solarium, wrapped in a soft purple shawl, snow falling against the glass dome while we sit together in a silence that feels safe.
I dream of her smiling at me without confusion, without hurt, without secrets standing between us.
Then her name pulls me back.
“Violet Harper?”
I jolt awake. A nurse in green scrubs stands near the waiting room entrance, clipboard tucked against her front.
“Ms. Harper has been moved to recovery. You can see her now. One at a time.”
Daisy and Willow reach for Elodie at the same time, a silent conversation passing between the three of them. I stand there useless, watching as they give her permission with a single nod.
Elodie moves toward the door, then stops. Her fingers rest on the handle and she turns back.
But she isn’t looking at her friends—she’s looking at me.
“I hope it’s okay if I see Vi first.”
I nod. In reality, I don’t deserve the grace she’s offering. I forfeited my right the moment I chose fear over courage.
Elodie disappears through the door.
Willow and Daisy follow, one by one, and I stay where I am, my body buzzing with a tension I can’t release.
I try not to read too much into their expressions when they return. But it’s impossible. Every crease in their brows, every tight line of their mouths, feeds the dread coiled around my spine.
“Would you like to see Violet?” Daisy asks after all three have had their turn.
My jaw locks as I shake my head.
“I want to wait until she’s awake,” I sign. Archer’s voice carries the words forward, but they sound hollow.
Daisy’s lips curve into a sad smile, and for a moment she looks like she wants to say more. Her hand hovers between us before settling briefly over mine.
Even though Daisy has been married to Charles for a while now, we’ve never been close. Our interactions have always been filtered through others. But tonight, in this sterile hallway, I return the saddest smile I’ve ever seen pulled up on her lips.
Time becomes meaningless after that. Minutes lose their shape. Hours slip past without form or mercy.
“Violet Harper.”
I straighten instantly, as the same nurse appears near the waiting room entrance. There’s a nervous energy about her this time.
“She’s awake,” the nurse says, then hesitates. “But she’s not very coherent yet. It might help to have a familiar face with her right now.”
Her words repeat in my mind.
Elodie follows the nurse out while we wait by the door. My eyes stay locked on the clock above the doorway, watching the second hand move far too fast, while time itself seems to crawl.
When Elodie finally appears at the far end of the hallway, relief surges through me.
Until I see her face.
Tears spill relentlessly, tracking down her cheeks. Everything in me stills.
Elodie has been the strongest one tonight. Even after seeing Violet in recovery, she held herself together. So if she’s breaking now, something must be catastrophically wrong.
“El, what is it?” Willow rushes forward.
Elodie shakes her head, then lets out a sharp, broken gasp. “Vi—she… didn’t recognize me.”
All the air leaves my lungs at once.
“What do you mean?” Daisy’s words tremble.
Elodie swallows hard. Her eyes flick away from her friends and then find me. “She… she doesn’t have her memory.”
What does that fucking mean?
A scream claws up my chest, desperate to escape, but my body betrays me the way it always has. The sound stays locked, trapped where it can only burn.
My vision blurs. I step forward and grab Elodie’s hand without thinking.
She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she covers my hand with hers.
An answer without words. I know.
“What does she remember?” I sign, hands shaking.
Elodie’s head turns slowly from Archer, who translates my words, then back to me. “Nothing.”
Daisy lets out a broken hiccup.
“She doesn’t remember… anything.” Elodie’s voice cracks. “Not her name. Not her life. Not me. Not why she was in Spring Falls. It’s all… blank.”
“Where is she now?” I sign, dread tightening like a noose.
“They sedated her. She was too restless. The doctor was worried she’d hurt herself.”
Memory loss. My thoughts scatter and fracture under the weight of it.
“This can’t be happening to Vi.” Willow shakes her head, her voice already breaking apart. “Can you imagine her not remembering her parents? Her grandmother? Pop?”
Before anyone can answer, a doctor steps toward us. His expression is calm in the way only someone who delivers devastation for a living can manage.
Every word he speaks sends my heart into overdrive.
Amnesia.
I’ve only ever heard it in movies or books. Something dramatic and unreal. But here, under these fluorescent lights, it’s brutally real.
He tells us that Violet is experiencing dissociative amnesia, and then he explains it in terms we can understand. Every sentence feels like a blade pressing deeper into me.
Violet has lost her autobiographical memory. Her name. Her identity. Her past. The cause isn’t her physical injury. It’s most likely the intense psychological trauma of the accident.
“She lost her parents in a car crash,” Elodie offers. “But she was just a toddler. Would she even remember the accident? She only ever talked about what her grandparents told her.”
Heat sears behind my eyes.
Violet told me she’d lost her parents young. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to not remember the most important people in your life. And now she’ll lose even the secondhand memories.
She’s losing everyone, including herself.
“You’d be surprised what the brain keeps buried,” the doctor offers.
“What do we do now?” Daisy asks, fear trembling through every word.
“You need to be patient and strong. Ms. Harper is going to feel like a stranger in her own body. She’ll be scared and disoriented. And she’ll need reassurance more than answers.”
His gaze moves over all of us. “She’ll need you now more than ever. Make sure she knows she isn’t alone—even if that’s exactly how she feels.”