Emma woke to the lavender-scented air of Lily's reality, the crack in the plaster ceiling grounding her in its familiar imperfection. Ethan's vision of Lily and Noah, his trembling trust—"If you say Paris, I believe you"—clashed with Noah's hospital sketch and his haunting words: "They said you'd save us. Paris is where we wait." The looping symbol, etched on Lily's bracelet, Sophie's wrist, Noah's drawings, and Ethan's keychain, pulsed in her mind, a thread weaving her children together across fractured worlds. Lily's hospital memory of Ethan, her fear of leukemia's return, and the sketchbook she'd left behind in the art room burned in Emma's heart, pulling her toward answers she couldn't yet grasp. She slipped out of bed, the tile cold under her feet, David's steady breathing a constant in the chaos. She needed to reach Lily, to uncover the truth behind her connection to Ethan and the bracelet's origin.
The house was quiet, the morning light dim through the blue velvet curtains. Lily's bedroom was empty, her backpack gone, the medical books still on her desk, their pages marked with Emma's own handwriting. The bracelet, its looping symbol glinting, was heavy in Emma's pocket, alongside the note—"E said to keep fighting. Like you did." She dressed quickly, pulling on the red wool coat, and headed downstairs, where David was reading the paper, his coffee mug steaming.
"She's gone again," Emma said, her voice tight, grabbing her keys. "I'm going after her."
David looked up, his face creasing with worry. "Emma, you can't keep doing this," he said, setting the paper down. "Lily needs space. You're pushing her too hard with this… obsession. Ethan, Noah, some symbol—it's not helping her."
Emma's frustration flared, her hand clutching the bracelet in her pocket. "It's not an obsession," she said, her voice trembling. "Lily told me about Ethan, a boy from the hospital who gave her this bracelet. It's the same one Sophie wears, the same symbol Noah draws. They're connected, David, and Lily's hiding something. I'm going to find her."
David stood, his voice rising. "Emma, you're not well," he said, his eyes glistening. "There's no Ethan or Noah. You're scaring Lily, and you're scaring me. We need to get you help."
Emma shook her head, her resolve hardening. "I don't need help," she said, her voice fierce. "I need answers." She turned, heading for the door, but paused, her gaze falling to a photo on the counter—Lily, younger, in a hospital gown, a bracelet with the looping symbol on her wrist. Emma's breath caught, a memory flashing—her own hands adjusting a bracelet, a child's weak smile. Was it Lily? Sophie?
She drove to the school, her heart pounding, hoping Lily had returned to the art room. The campus was quiet, the early hour keeping it empty. The art room door was ajar, and inside, Emma found Lily curled up in a corner, her sketchbook open, her hands trembling as she drew. The looping symbol dominated the page, surrounded by sketches of a hospital ward, three beds, three vague faces—Ethan's sharp jaw, Noah's glasses, a girl with a beanie. Emma's heart stopped. Sophie.
"Lily," Emma said, her voice soft, kneeling beside her, "you don't have to hide from me."
Lily's head snapped up, her eyes red, her face pale. "Why do you keep following me?" she whispered, her voice breaking, but she didn't close the sketchbook, her fingers hovering over the drawings.
Emma reached for her hand, her voice gentle but firm. "Because I love you," she said. "And because you're scared. These drawings—Ethan, Noah, the girl with the beanie. They're the same people I've seen. The bracelet, the symbol—it's all connected. Tell me about Ethan, Lily. Please."
Lily's breath hitched, tears spilling down her cheeks. "He was… my friend," she said, her voice trembling. "In the hospital, when I was little. He was sick, too, but he was strong. He gave me the bracelet, said it was from his mom—a doctor who saved him. He said she'd save me, too." She looked at Emma, her eyes searching. "But you don't remember, do you? You were there, but you don't know."
Emma's throat tightened, a flood of images—hospital beds, a boy's hand, her own voice promising strength—surging through her. "I want to remember," she said, her voice breaking. "Lily, was there another boy? Noah? With glasses, drawing stars?"
Lily's eyes widened, her hands clutching the sketchbook. "How do you know about him?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "Noah was there, too. He was younger, always talking about stars. He said we'd all meet again, somewhere far away. Like Paris."
Emma's heart raced, Noah's words—"Paris is where we wait"—echoing. She pulled the bracelet from her pocket, holding it up. "This came from Ethan's mom," she said. "Was that me? Was I the doctor?"
Lily nodded, her tears falling faster. "You were there," she said, her voice barely audible. "You helped us, all of us. But then you… you left. Ethan said you'd find us again, in Paris."
Emma's breath caught, her mind spinning. She pulled Lily into her arms, the girl's trembling form solid against her. "I'm here now," she said, her voice fierce. "And I'm not leaving you."
As Lily clung to her, Emma's gaze fell to the sketchbook, a new drawing catching her eye—a map of Paris, the Eiffel Tower glowing, the looping symbol etched in the sky, three names beneath it: Ethan, Lily, Noah. Her heart pounded. Paris was no longer a promise—it was a destination, a collision of her realities, where the truth of her past as their doctor, their savior, would finally unravel. She had to go, to find Ethan and Noah, to save Sophie, and to reclaim the memories that tied her to her children, no matter how much her world threatened to break apart.