My footsteps echo through the sterile hospital corridor as I race toward the room number the nurse gave me, Erin hurrying behind me. My heart's hammering against my ribs like it's trying to break free, and my mouth tastes like copper pennies. Chloe never gets sick. Never gets hurt. She's always been the strong one.

  "Room 331," I mutter, scanning the numbered doors. "Should be right around this corner."

  I spot it and practically lunge for the doorway, skidding to a halt as I enter. No hospital bed. Just small pstic chairs. And there's Lara, her fiery red hair unmistakable even from behind, slouched in one of those uncomfortable chairs, scrolling through her phone.

  "Where is she?" The words tumble out of my mouth, panic making my voice crack.

  Lara looks up, surprisingly calm for someone who just watched my sister colpse. "She's getting a CT scan right now."

  I nod, trying to process this information as I sink into the chair next to her, my legs suddenly feeling like they're made of jelly. Erin quietly takes the seat on my other side.

  "Did you hit her too hard or something?" I ask Lara, unable to imagine what else could possibly put my sister on the floor. Chloe's built like a tank.

  Lara scoffs, looking almost offended. "I didn't even touch her. I walked into her gym, she said 'let me go grab a drink,' and then I watched her pass out into a fucking wall."

  For the first time since we entered, Lara seems to notice Erin sitting beside me. Her eyes narrow slightly, that predatory assessment I've seen her use on potential threats.

  "Who the fuck are you?" she asks bluntly.

  Erin, to her credit, doesn't flinch. She simply extends her hand across me toward Lara. "Erin Ashby. I cut Will's hair."

  "She's my neighbor," I add quickly.

  Recognition fshes in Lara's eyes. "Ohhhh, the nice girl. Yeah, you mentioned her." She reaches over and shakes Erin's hand with surprising civility.

  The momentary distraction fades as quickly as it came, and the reality of why we're here crashes back over me. My sister is somewhere in this hospital getting her brain scanned because she colpsed for no apparent reason.

  "Did she say anything before she passed out?" I ask, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, staring at the speckled linoleum floor. "Was she compining about headaches or anything tely?"

  Lara shakes her head, her wild red hair swaying slightly. "Nah, I was there all of ten seconds before she dropped. Didn't even have time to insult her training methods."

  I nod slowly.

  "Listen, Will," Lara continues, her voice taking on an unusually gentle tone, "she's still breathing, still alive. And I know all the best doctors here, alright?"

  "What?" I look up sharply. The implication that Lara has doctors in her pocket shouldn't surprise me given her connections, but it's still jarring to hear it so pinly stated in a hospital waiting room.

  She waves a dismissive hand. "Just rex. Your sister is in good hands, okay? They'll figure out what's wrong."

  I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of Erin's hand as she pces it reassuringly on my shoulder. "Alright."

  *****

  The hour drags on like a funeral procession, each minute stretching into eternity while I stare at the same beige wall, counting tiles to keep my mind from spiraling. Hospitals always smell like fear masked by antiseptic.

  I've texted both kids three times now. Diane's responses are terse but immediate. "On my way." Shane's more verbose: "OMG is Aunt Chloe okay??? Leaving the library now!!!"

  Erin's been a rock beside me, her presence steady and undemanding. She hasn't tried to fill the silence with empty reassurances, just occasionally brushes her fingers against mine when my leg starts bouncing too frantically. Lara's been pacing the hallway like a caged tiger, making nurses visibly uncomfortable with her manic energy.

  When the doctor finally appears, I nearly jump out of my skin. She's a stern looking woman with salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a tight bun, wire-rimmed gsses perched on her nose. Her white coat looks freshly pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

  "Mr. Gray?" She extends her hand. "I'm Dr. Ramirez. Would you like to come look at your sister's scans with me?"

  I follow her to a small room with illuminated screens on the wall, my heart pounding against my ribs. Lara trails behind us, unusually quiet but radiating intensity.

  "So," Dr. Ramirez says, pointing to what looks like a grayscale photograph of Chloe's brain, "everything appears normal structurally. No signs of stroke, no bleeding, no tumors."

  "But?" I ask, because there's always a but.

  She adjusts her gsses, squinting slightly at the scan. "Well, there's something unusual here." Her finger traces the image. "This shadow."

  I lean closer, trying to make sense of the ghostly blur. "What is it?"

  "I'm not entirely sure," she admits, her professional demeanor slipping just slightly. "I've seen something like this a couple times in my career. It's not something our equipment can properly identify."

  My mouth goes dry. "What could it mean?"

  Dr. Ramirez shrugs, the gesture oddly casual for the circumstances. "I don't know, but I can tell you that both previous patients with simir readings woke up just fine."

  "That's good news, right?" I ask, desperately grasping for anything positive.

  "Yes, but..." She hesitates. "They both experienced complete amnesia."

  The word hits me like a physical blow. "Oh?"

  "She's not in a coma," Dr. Ramirez continues, her fingers tracing the outline of Chloe's brain scan. "I'd expect her to wake up within the next few hours, possibly sooner."

  "Alright," I manage to say, the word feeling heavy in my mouth. Amnesia. The thought of Chloe not knowing who I am, who the kids are, it's almost too much to bear.

  Lara steps forward, her usual manic energy momentarily contained beneath a veneer of professional concern. "So why did she pass out?"

  Dr. Ramirez shakes her head, brow furrowed as she examines the scan again. "Honestly, I can't find any medical reason why this happened. Chloe is one of the healthiest women I've ever seen in my life. Her vitals are perfect, blood work normal, no signs of dehydration or physical trauma."

  I run a hand through my hair, tugging slightly at the roots. Nothing about this makes sense.

  We head back down the corridor, my mind racing with possibilities. Amnesia. The word keeps echoing in my head like a bad song I can't shake. What would that even look like for Chloe? Would she remember me at all?

  Lara's phone buzzes as we walk. She checks it, then turns to me. "Your kids are here. They're at the nurse's station."

  "Okay, I'll find them after I see Chloe," I say, quickening my pace.

  When I step inside the room, my breath catches in my throat. Chloe looks so small in that hospital bed, hooked up to machines that beep steadily. It's wrong.

  I immediately go to her side, barely aware of Lara and Dr. Ramirez hanging back by the door. Erin follows me in but keeps a respectful distance.

  Chloe's face is peaceful, like she's just taking a nap. No indication of the chaos that might be happening inside her brain.

  "Hey, sis," I say softly, taking her hand in mine. It's warm, which is reassuring. "You're really freaking me out here."

  Nothing. Just the steady beep of the heart monitor.

  I lean closer, squeezing her hand. "Please wake up, Chloe."

  Again, nothing happens. The silence stretches on, broken only by the mechanical sounds of the hospital equipment.

  "Damn," I mutter, leaning back slightly. "I really thought that would work."

  As if on cue, Chloe gasps awake, her body jerking upright as she sucks in air like she's been drowning. Her eyes fly open, wild and unfocused as she looks frantically around the room, her chest heaving with each desperate breath.

  "Chloe!" I grab her shoulders gently, trying to ground her. "It's okay, you're okay."

  Her gaze finally nds on me, and I see the moment of recognition dawn in her eyes.

  "Will?" she whispers, her voice hoarse.

  Relief floods through me so intensely my knees almost buckle. "Thank God you're awake," I say, fighting back tears. "And you remember me?"

  Her eyes widen with panic as they dart around the room. Her breathing quickens, and she grips my hand so tight I can feel her nails digging into my skin.

  "Will?" she repeats, her voice rising. "What the hell happened to you? You look... you look so old!"

  "What?" I stare at her, confusion washing over me.

  She reaches up with trembling fingers, touching my face like she's trying to make sense of what she's seeing. Tears well up in her eyes as her hand traces the lines around my mouth, the crow's feet at the corners of my eyes.

  "Oh god," she whispers, voice breaking. "Am I dead? Is this... is this what happens when you die?"

  My heart sinks into my stomach. I take her hand gently, trying to keep my voice steady. "No, Chloe. You're at the hospital. You passed out at the gym. Everything is going to be okay."

  She shakes her head violently, tears spilling down her cheeks now. Her eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that sends chills down my spine.

  "Will..." she says, her voice barely audible. "You killed yourself like twenty years ago."