Soft beeping pierced the silence.
A sterile scent hung in the air, mingling with the faint hum of machines. Anna stirred, lids heavy like anchors pulling her back into the dark. Her throat felt dry, lips cracked, limbs stiff as though they hadn't moved in years.
And then—a hand. Warm, trembling, clutching hers.
"Anna…?"
The voice was familiar, tender and broken. Her lashes fluttered, and she squinted against the pale white ceiling, disoriented by the brightness above her.
"Clair?" she rasped, barely recognizing her own voice. Her best friend's face came into focus—red-eyed, makeup smudged, hair hastily tied back. The sight of her, so raw, so visibly shaken, made something tighten in Anna's chest.
Clair let out a choked laugh. "Oh my God. You're awake. You're really awake."
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she held onto Anna's hand tighter, like letting go would send her back into the abyss.
Anna blinked slowly, trying to gather the thoughts swirling in her mind. Everything was foggy. Her body felt foreign. Time felt elastic.
"What… what happened?" she murmured, voice hoarse.
Clair hesitated, brushing at her face, then leaned forward.
"You've been unconscious for six months."
Anna's breath caught. "Six…?"
Clair nodded, eyes filled with sorrow. "There was an accident. You were driving that night after…" Her voice trailed off, but Anna didn't need her to finish. The memory crashed back into her like a wave: the rain, the darkness, the red light she didn't see, the truck—
And before all that—the sounds.
Moans. Whispers. Levi's voice, low and animalistic. Vanessa's laughter.
Anna flinched, the pain in her chest sharp, as if those echoes had followed her into this new reality.
Clair noticed. "You remember, don't you?"
Anna didn't answer. Her lips quivered. Her eyes stared through the walls, past the wires, past the machines—back into that office where her heart had shattered.
A tear escaped her. "I heard them. Clair… I heard him… I saw them…" Her voice broke, raw and childlike. "He didn't even stop. He pushed her back and kept going like I didn't even exist."
Clair squeezed her hand tighter. "I know, Anna. I know."
Anna turned her head away, swallowing the storm inside her. Her heart felt like glass—fractured but still somehow beating.
"Where's my mom?" she asked suddenly, the words coming out in a breathless rush. "Clair, please—call her. I need to see her. I need to ask for forgiveness. I left her... I ran. And she warned me. She warned me about Levi, and I didn't listen—"
"Anna—" Clair tried to interrupt, but she wouldn't stop.
"I threw her love back in her face. I said horrible things. I told her I didn't need her. God, I need her now. I need her to know I'm sorry. Please, call her, please—"
Clair stood abruptly, tears spilling anew, and wrapped her arms around Anna's fragile body. Anna sobbed into her shoulder, the tears coming freely now, sobs shaking her thin frame.
"She brought you here," Clair whispered. "Anna, she's the reason you're still alive."
Anna pulled back, eyes wide and wet. "What?"
"She never stopped looking out for you," Clair said. "The night of the accident, you were on your way to her. She was waiting. She found you. Got you here before the ambulance could even arrive. She stayed here for months."
Anna's chest tightened. "Where is she now?"
Clair hesitated again, and this time Anna noticed the flicker of pain in her friend's eyes.
"She's here," she said softly. "In this same hospital."
"What do you mean?"
Clair looked down, twisting her fingers together. "A few weeks after they stabilized you, she collapsed. Stress, grief, exhaustion. The doctors say she never left your side. Barely ate. Barely slept. She just sat there holding your hand like if she let go, you'd disappear."
Anna gasped, her breath catching in her throat.
"She's still here?" she whispered.
Clair nodded. "Two floors down. She's resting. Stable, but… tired."
Anna didn't wait.
She yanked the blanket off her body, ignoring the stiffness and the IV lines tugging at her arm. Her legs wobbled when they touched the ground, but she forced herself to stand.
"Anna, you just woke up—"
"I have to see her," Anna insisted. "Please, Clair. Help me get to her."
Clair looked torn, but she understood. She stood, looping Anna's arm around her shoulders, steadying her.
Together, they made their way out of the room, past the nurses' station, down a quiet hallway bathed in dim hospital light.
Every step felt like a mile. Anna's feet dragged. Her heart pounded—not just from exertion, but from guilt, and longing, and the desperate hope that her mother was still holding on.
They reached the room.
Clair pushed the door open quietly, and the scent of antiseptic and lavender wafted out. The lights were low. Machines beeped in a steady rhythm.
There, on the hospital bed, lay Elain Whitmore.
Even asleep, she looked regal. Her silver hair, usually pulled tight into a sleek bun, now fanned across the pillow. Her skin was pale, her breathing deep and even.
Anna stepped forward, tears already falling again.
She reached for her mother's hand—the one that had once fixed every wound, held her steady through childhood storms, and tried to warn her of heartache. The hand she had rejected for a man who shattered her.
"Mom…" she whispered, barely able to speak through the knot in her throat.
Elain didn't stir. But her hand, fragile and cold, curled slightly around Anna's.
That was all it took.
Anna sank into the chair beside her, sobbing quietly, forehead resting against their joined hands.
"I'm so sorry," she wept. "You were right. About everything. I should've listened. I should've come back sooner. I thought I knew what love was, but… I didn't."
Silence surrounded them, heavy and sacred.
Clair stood at the doorway, watching with glistening eyes. She didn't say a word. She didn't need to.
In that room—between the soft hum of machines and the gentle rise and fall of two chests—something was mending.
A mother and daughter, both broken, beginning again.
And somewhere inside Anna, beneath the pain and the scars, a flicker of strength returned.
She wasn't just a woman Levi discarded.
She was Elain Whitmore's daughter.