Leaving the hospital was like stepping into someone else's dream.
Nurses smiled at me like I was a miracle. Doctors shook my hand like I'd beaten death in a fistfight. My new parents held my arms so tightly I almost forgot this wasn't where I was supposed to be.
Eli Carter didn't get grand send-offs. Eli Carter didn't have anyone waiting by the hospital doors, holding his coat, fixing his hair, saying, "Let's take you home."
But Annalise Sinclair did.
So I kept quiet.
I kept the secret.
I told them what they wanted to hear:I didn't remember much. Things were blurry. Sometimes I remembered faces but not names. Sometimes I forgot the simple stuff—where my room was, what I liked, what happened before the "accident."
They believed me.Because it was easier than believing anything else.
On the Way Home
The car was quiet but comfortable. Soft leather seats. Music playing low. My mother's hand gently brushed my hair every few minutes like she still couldn't believe I was here.
"Do you remember this street, sweetie?" she asked softly.
I glanced out the window. The streets were wide and clean, nothing like the cracked sidewalks I used to run across barefoot.
"Sort of," I said. "It's… familiar."
Harper turned around from the passenger seat and gave me a small, encouraging smile."You don't have to force it. It'll come back when it's ready."
I tried to smile back. It was easy to like her. She wasn't suspicious. She was… kind. Patient. Protective.
She treated me like I was her little sister.
And some part of me was afraid I liked that too much.
At Home
The Sinclair estate was the kind of house you only see in magazines people leave behind at bus stops.
High ceilings. Chandeliers. Sweeping staircases.
Everything felt too clean, too big. I almost didn't want to touch anything.
"Your room is just upstairs, sweetie," my mom said, her voice trembling with happiness. "You've always loved it. Maybe being there will help you remember."
I nodded and followed them through the maze of polished hallways.
When the door opened, I nearly stopped breathing.
The room was massive—double doors, pink walls, shelves packed with stuffed animals and shiny trophies, a window seat with the perfect view of a garden I didn't remember.
A family photo sat on the bedside table. Annalise's face smiled up at me from the picture.
It should have felt like home.
But all I felt was that tight, bitter knot in my chest.
Why did Eli Carter get nothing, and Annalise Sinclair got this?
I wanted to hate her for having it.But now it was mine.And I wanted to keep it.
We ate together, like families are supposed to.
Not rushed scraps in a cold cafeteria. Not food hoarded for later.
Real food. A warm table. Parents who noticed if I didn't eat enough.
"You've always loved this," my mom said, gently scooping some mashed potatoes onto my plate. "Do you remember?"
I shook my head.
"That's okay," she said quickly. "You'll remember soon. We're just happy you're here."
Harper passed me the bread with a soft smile. "Take your time, okay? I'm not going anywhere."
Something inside me cracked a little.
I didn't deserve this. But I wanted it. I wanted to pretend this was always my life.
I lowered my head and whispered, "Thanks."
Later That Night
When everyone else was asleep, I sat in the giant bed, staring at my new hands.
Soft. Perfect. Manicured.Not like Eli's hands.Not like the ones that had learned to steal leftover fries when no one was looking.
I whispered into the dark, "I'm not supposed to be here."
But no one answered.
And the silence?It felt like permission.
Maybe I could keep this.Maybe I could pretend long enough to stay.
And if this was a lie, I'd make it the most beautiful lie I'd ever told.