"We're here. Welcome back home, sweetie," Dad said with a warm smile.
As the car door opened, I was met with a breathtaking sight. My house-or rather, our house-was enormous. The modern design, sleek architecture, and pristine surroundings made it look like something out of a magazine. It was stunning, almost unreal.
Some of our staff carefully lifted me out of the car and gently settled me into my wheelchair. Once I was comfortable, they began pushing me toward the grand entrance. As we moved closer, I couldn't help but marvel at the intricate details of the house-the towering glass windows, the elegant balconies, and the beautifully landscaped garden that stretched across the front yard.
Upon entering, a chorus of voices greeted me.
"Welcome back, Ma'am Noa," the household staff said in unison, smiling warmly.
The interior was just as magnificent as the exterior-perhaps even more so. The high ceilings, the crystal chandeliers, the polished marble floors-everything was perfect, yet unfamiliar. I looked around in awe, trying to piece together any memory, but nothing surfaced.
Mom placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Noa, sweetie, this is our home," she said softly, her voice filled with emotion.
I turned to face her, still processing everything. "Do you want to see your room? It's upstairs," she asked, tilting her head toward the grand staircase.
I glanced at the stairs and then at my wheelchair. "But... how am I going to get there?" I asked, feeling a little helpless.
Mom gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, our house has an elevator."
I looked at her, surprised. "Did you install it just for me?"
Dad shook his head. "No, sweetheart. We actually had it built for your grandma. She had difficulty using the stairs, so we designed the house this way to make it easier for her to move around."
My expression changed at the mention of my grandmother. "Grandma? I have a grandma?" I asked, confused. I searched my mind for any recollection of her, but there was nothing-just an empty space where memories should have been. "Where is she?"
A brief silence filled the room before Mom finally spoke. "She... she passed away last year."
I looked up at her, my heart sinking. "What happened?"
Dad sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "She collapsed in her room after hearing about your accident. The doctors said it was cardiac arrest."
Mom's voice softened. "You and Grandma were the closest duo in this house. She loved you so much."
I swallowed hard, trying to process this news. "Is that her?" I asked, pointing toward a framed photo of an elderly woman on the wall.
Both of them nodded.
"Can you take me closer to her picture, please?" I asked quietly.
"Of course," Dad said, gently pushing my wheelchair forward.
As soon as I reached the photo, I carefully took it in my hands. I studied her face, searching for something-anything-that might trigger a memory. She looked kind, her eyes full of warmth and wisdom. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember her.
Dad watched me closely. "Do you remember her now, Noa?"
I glanced at him, then back at the picture. After a long pause, I slowly shook my head. "No," I whispered before gently placing the photo back in its spot.
A quiet sadness settled over me. I had lost so much-not just time but pieces of myself, pieces of the people I loved. And no matter how much I wished for my memories to return, they remained just out of reach.
"Sorry to interrupt, Ma'am. The food is ready."
My thoughts were cut off by one of the staff standing by the door.
"Oh, right! I almost forgot-we prepared all your favorite dishes today," Mom said with a warm smile.
Dad gently pushed my wheelchair toward the dining area. The moment we entered, the rich aroma of different dishes filled the air, making my stomach rumble. The scent was mouthwatering, yet as I looked around at the food spread across the table, something felt off. They all looked delicious, but... I couldn't remember ever calling them my favorites.
As my eyes wandered over the dishes, I suddenly spotted something familiar. A golden-brown roll, crispy on the outside. Something about it stirred a memory deep inside me.
"Is that... is that lumpia?" I asked hesitantly, my gaze fixed on the plate.
A woman standing nearby smiled warmly. "Yes, Ma'am, it is." Her voice carried excitement as if she was happy I recognized it.
A small spark ignited in my chest. "Hey, that's my favorite! Can you pass some to me, please?"
She quickly placed a few pieces on my plate, and as she did, something clicked. I stared at her face-kind, familiar, comforting. My heart pounded as realization dawned on me.
"Nana Cecille? You're... you're Nana Cecille, right?"
She froze for a moment, eyes wide with surprise. Then, she quickly put down the plate and turned to me, hands trembling.
"Yes, Ma'am! It's me!" Her voice cracked with emotion. "Oh, I'm so happy you remember me!"
Tears welled up in her eyes, and without thinking, I spread my arms wide. She rushed forward, wrapping me in a tight embrace.
Nana Cecille, our Filipino maid, always spoiled me with her delicious home-cooked meals. I especially loved the Filipino dishes she made for me-her lumpia and turon were my absolute favorites.
With a warm smile, she patted my hand and said, "As soon as I heard you were finally coming home, I rushed to the supermarket to buy all the ingredients for your favorite lumpia!"
Her words filled me with warmth. It felt comforting to know that even after everything, some things hadn't changed-like Nana Cecille's love and care for me through her cooking.
"Nana Cecille! I'm so happy you're still here!" I said, my voice shaking with happiness.
She pulled back just enough to look at me, wiping her tears with the corner of her apron. "Oh, my sweet girl, I never left. Every night, I prayed for your fast recovery. And now, here you are! Thank you, Lord, for giving this child a second chance at life!" Her voice broke, and more tears spilled down her cheeks.
I let out a small laugh, squeezing her hands. "Thank you, Nana... for everything."
She wiped her tears quickly, then straightened up with a determined nod. "Alright, enough tears. Let's get you fed, hmm? You need your strength."
With a smile, she carefully began serving me, just like she always used to. And for the first time in a long while, I felt something warm and familiar-a piece of my past, slowly returning.
After we finished eating, we remained at the dining table for a while, enjoying a light and cheerful conversation. The atmosphere was warm, filled with laughter and the comforting hum of familiar voices.
One by one, the people who worked in our house and for our family introduced themselves to me. Some faces sparked faint recognition, while others felt completely new. They each shared their most memorable stories about me-many of which revolved around my mischievous nature.
Apparently, I had been quite the troublemaker.
"Noa, you once snuck into the kitchen at midnight and tried to bake cookies. You nearly set the oven on fire!" one of the maids recounted, laughing.
"Oh, and don't forget the time she hid in the gardener's truck just to follow her dad to work," another added, shaking his head with amusement.
I listened intently, hanging onto their words as if they were pieces of a puzzle I was desperately trying to put together.
According to their stories, I had been playful and a little rebellious but still a kind and loving daughter and friend. It was strange-to hear about myself from an outsider's perspective. It felt like they were talking about someone else entirely.
They also shared what had happened over the past year while I was in a coma-small moments of joy, heartbreak, and everyday life that had carried on without me. It was a reminder of how much time I had lost.
We were all laughing, immersed in conversation when suddenly, the sound of an alarm beeping interrupted the moment.
Two nurses walked toward me, their expressions calm but attentive.
"Oh, by the way, sweetheart, these are Alyson and Mikael," my dad said, gesturing toward them. "They will be your personal nurse and therapist, available to you 24/7."
I extended my hand to shake theirs, offering a small smile. "It's nice to meet you both."
Alyson, a young woman with a warm and reassuring presence, smiled back. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Noa. By the way, I will be your nurse and Mikael will be your therapist. We're here to help you recover and regain your strength."
Mikael, a tall man with kind eyes, nodded. "We'll take things at your pace. Our goal is to get you back on your feet, both physically and mentally."
I nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and nervousness. Having two people assigned to me full-time made my condition feel more real and more serious. But at the same time, I knew I needed all the help I could get.
As the conversation settled, Alyson glanced at the monitor attached to my wrist. "Your vitals look stable, but we'll need to conduct a quick check-up before you rest for the night. And it's also time for you to take your meds."
Mikael gave me an encouraging nod. "We'll take good care of you, Noa."
I exhaled softly, feeling the weight of the day settle over me. So much had happened in such a short time-it was overwhelming.
But at least, for now, I wasn't alone.
Mikael, my personal therapist and assistant, carefully lifted me into my wheelchair, making sure I was comfortable before wheeling me toward the elevator. As we moved through the dining area, everyone bid me goodnight, thanking me for the meal and the time spent together.
"Goodnight, Miss Noa! Sleep well!" one of the house staff called out.
I smiled warmly, "Goodnight, everyone. Thank you for sharing your stories with me!"
The elevator doors slid closed, and as we ascended to the third floor, I found myself once again in awe of this house.
"Wow," I whispered under my breath, my eyes tracing the intricate details of the architecture. The high ceilings, elegant chandeliers, and luxurious finishes made the place feel almost unreal, like something out of a movie.
When we stepped out of the elevator, my mom took the lead, pointing out different rooms as we made our way down the grand hallway.
"That's our bedroom," she said, gesturing to a large door on the right. "And over here is your dad's office. My closet is just across from it."
I listened intently, but my mind couldn't shake the thought of how massive this house was.
"This place is so big for just the three of us," I mused aloud. "It's a good thing we have so many people helping out. Otherwise, cleaning this place would take an entire lifetime!"
Mom chuckled, "That's exactly why we have a staff, sweetheart. Otherwise, your dad and I would be exhausted just from keeping up with the dust."
Finally, we arrived at my room, which was situated between my parents' bedroom and my dad's office. Nurse Alyson stepped forward and gently pushed the door open, revealing a breathtaking space that left me speechless.
My bedroom was enormous. It had a high ceiling with elegant light fixtures, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the village, and a beautifully designed interior that blended luxury with comfort. A massive bed sat in the center, surrounded by plush rugs and soft lighting. There was even a small seating area with a couch and a coffee table as if the room belonged to a high-end hotel suite rather than a private home.
I stared in amazement, my eyes sweeping across the space.
"This... this is my room?" I asked in disbelief. "A whole family of five could live comfortably in here!"
Dad smiled warmly, stepping inside with me. "Yes, sweetheart. This has always been your room. We kept it exactly the way you left it."
As I took in every detail, my gaze landed on a large mirror mounted on the wall. My reflection stared back at me, and for a moment, I felt like a stranger in my own home.
The way I marveled at everything-the house, the room, the sheer luxury of it all-it was as if I were a visitor, not someone who had lived here my entire life.
I barely recognized the girl in the mirror.
Who was she?
Who was I before all of this?