Emma woke to the lavender-scented air of Lily's reality, the crack in the plaster ceiling anchoring her in its familiar imperfection. Ethan's fierce trust—"If Mom says Paris, I'm going"—and his sketch of the Paris skyline with the looping symbol echoed in her mind, intertwining with Noah's confession that she was their doctor, Lily's hospital memory of Ethan, and Sophie's fragile fight. The bracelet in her pocket, its looping symbol matching Sophie's, Noah's drawings, and Ethan's keychain, felt like a pulse connecting her children across fractured worlds. Lily's revelation—"You helped us, all of us"—and her sketch of the hospital ward with Ethan, Noah, and Sophie burned in Emma's heart, pulling her toward Paris, where their shared past waited. She slipped out of bed, the tile cold under her feet, David's steady breathing beside her a constant in the chaos. She needed to reach Lily, to solidify their fragile connection and prepare her for the journey to Paris.
The house was quiet, the morning light dim through the blue velvet curtains. Lily's bedroom was empty, her backpack gone, but a new sketchbook lay open on her desk, the looping symbol scrawled across a drawing of three children in hospital beds, their wrists adorned with bracelets. Emma's breath caught, a memory flashing—her own hands adjusting those bracelets, a soft promise to keep them strong. She dressed quickly, pulling on the red wool coat, the bracelet and Lily's note—"E said to keep fighting. Like you did."—heavy in her pocket. Downstairs, David was in the kitchen, sipping coffee, his face weary.
"She's gone again," Emma said, her voice tight, grabbing her keys. "I'm finding her."
David set his mug down, his eyes narrowing. "Emma, you're pushing too hard," he said, his voice strained. "Lily's scared, and you're making it worse with this… obsession. Ethan, Noah, Paris—it's not real."
Emma's frustration flared, her hand clutching the bracelet in her pocket. "It is real," she said, her voice trembling. "Lily told me about Ethan, a boy in the hospital with her, who gave her this bracelet. Noah said I was their doctor. Sophie's wearing the same symbol. They're connected, David, and Lily knows it. I'm going to her."
David stood, his voice rising. "Emma, you're not well," he said, his eyes glistening. "You're scaring her. 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 Lily." She headed for the door, pausing at the sight of a photo on the counter—Lily, young, in a hospital gown, her wrist bare. The absence of the bracelet struck her, a discrepancy that gnawed at her memory. She drove to the school, her heart pounding, hoping Lily had returned to the art room, her sanctuary.
The campus was quiet, the early hour keeping it empty. The art room door was ajar, and inside, Emma found Lily sitting cross-legged on the floor, her sketchbook open, her hands trembling as she drew. The looping symbol dominated the page, surrounded by a Paris skyline, the Eiffel Tower glowing, three figures labeled Ethan, Lily, Noah. Emma's heart raced—Lily's vision matched Ethan's, Noah's.
"Lily," Emma said, kneeling beside her, her voice soft, "you don't have to run from me."
Lily's eyes flicked up, red and glistening, but she didn't close the sketchbook. "You keep saying you know them," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Ethan, Noah. But you don't remember, do you? You don't remember me."
Emma's chest tightened, Lily's pain echoing Ethan's fear, Noah's trust. She reached for her hand, her voice gentle but firm. "I'm trying to remember," she said. "You told me about Ethan, in the hospital, giving you the bracelet. Noah was there, too, talking about stars. You said I was there, helping you. Lily, I think I was your doctor. Help me understand."
Lily's breath hitched, her fingers tracing the looping symbol. "You were," she said, her voice trembling. "You gave us these bracelets, said they'd keep us strong. You promised we'd be okay. But then you left, and I… I got better, but I never forgot." She looked at Emma, her eyes searching. "Ethan said you'd find us in Paris. Noah said it, too. Is that true?"
Emma's throat tightened, a flood of images—hospital wards, three small faces, her own voice promising a future—surging through her. "It's true," she said, her voice fierce, pulling the bracelet from her pocket. "This was yours. I'm going to Paris, Lily, to find Ethan and Noah. I want you to come with me."
Lily's eyes widened, her hands clutching the sketchbook. "Paris?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "With you?"
Emma nodded, her resolve unwavering. "Yes," she said. "You, me, your dad. We'll find them together."
Lily hesitated, then pushed the sketchbook toward Emma, revealing a new drawing—a bracelet with the looping symbol, wrapped around a wrist, and beside it, a note in her handwriting: "You saved us once. Save us again." Emma's breath caught, her heart pounding. She pulled Lily into her arms, the girl's trembling form solid against her.
"I will," Emma said, her voice breaking. "I promise."
As they sat there, Emma's gaze fell to the sketchbook, the Paris skyline glowing, the looping symbol a beacon. The front door creaked downstairs, David's voice calling, "Emma? Lily?" His tone was worried, urgent.
Emma stood, helping Lily to her feet. "We're going home," she said, her voice steady. "And then to Paris." Lily nodded, her eyes glistening, a flicker of hope breaking through her fear. As they left the art room, Emma clutched the bracelet, her mind racing. Paris was no longer a distant dream—it was a collision point, where her past as their doctor, their mother, would converge with their present, where she'd keep her promise to save Ethan, Lily, Noah, and Sophie, no matter how fragile her reality became.