"I should probably let you rest," Walter said, starting to get up from his chair. "But I'm just so grateful you're back with us, Hailey. Your mother has been incredibly strong, but I know she's been worried sick."
"Walter?" she called out as he moved toward the door.
"Yes?" he turned back, his hand on the door frame.
"The other Hailey," she said carefully. "The one who had the accident. What was she like?"
Walter paused, clearly considering the question.
"She was talented," he said after a moment. "Fearless, maybe too much so. She had this way of making dangerous stunts look like dance moves."
He leaned against the door frame.
"But there was something else about her too," he continued thoughtfully. "A kind of sadness, like she was always trying to prove something to people who weren't really paying attention."
The words hit close to home, bringing both recognition and pain.
That was exactly what she had been trying to do — prove herself, step out of the shadows, find her own place in an industry that saw her only as a way to make others look better.
"Why do you ask?" Walter inquired gently.
"I don't know," she said, looking away. "It's just something about the name, I guess. Hailey isn't that common."
Walter smiled softly.
"No, it isn't," he agreed. "But you're both special in your own ways."
After Walter left, the room fell into thoughtful silence.
Eleanor stood up and began arranging the daisies in a plastic cup of water, humming softly to herself.
"Mom?" The word still felt strange, but this woman deserved kindness.
"Yes, sweetheart?" Eleanor looked up, hope lighting her face.
"Can you tell me about before?" she asked. "About what I was like before the accident?"
Eleanor's entire face brightened.
"Oh, you were wonderful," she said, pulling her chair closer to the bed. "So creative and full of life. You loved to draw — your sketchbooks were filled with the most incredible pictures."
"I drew?" she prompted, wanting to know more about this other Hailey.
"All the time," Eleanor confirmed enthusiastically. "Animals, landscapes, people. You had such a gift for capturing expressions. I kept all your sketchbooks safe, waiting for when you woke up."
"What else?" she asked, genuinely curious now.
"You were studying to be a teacher," Eleanor continued, her voice warm with pride. "Elementary education. You wanted to help kids discover their own talents."
A teacher.
Someone whose dreams were so different from her own.
"You were driving home from your part-time job at the art supply store," Eleanor went on, her eyes misting over. "It was raining — pouring, actually. And a drunk driver ran a red light."
She paused, taking a shaky breath.
"The impact was so severe," Eleanor continued, her voice breaking. "The car spun and flipped. When the paramedics arrived, they said... they said they weren't sure you'd make it through the night."
"But I never lost hope," Eleanor continued, reaching for her hand. "I always believed you would come back to me."
"That must have been hard," she offered, squeezing Eleanor's hand gently. "Waiting for two years."
"That's all behind us now," Eleanor said. "You're awake. You're here. That's all that matters."
An hour later, footsteps approached the door.
A knock sounded, and a man in a white coat entered.
"Well, this is wonderful news," he said, his voice warm and professional. "How are you feeling, Hailey?"
"Confused," she replied honestly. "Everything feels... different."
The doctor pulled up a chair, settling in with a clipboard.
"I'm Dr. Coleman," he introduced himself. "And confusion is totally normal after being in a coma for so long. Your brain is basically rebooting itself."
He clicked his pen.
"I'm going to run a few simple tests to see how you're doing," he explained. "Nothing painful, just checking your reflexes and cognitive function. Is that alright?"
"I suppose so," she said, nervousness creeping in.
"Excellent," Dr. Coleman said with an encouraging smile. "Let's start with some basic questions. Can you tell me your full name?"
She hesitated, glancing at Eleanor.
"Hailey...?" she started, then stopped. She wasn't quite sure what last name to mention.
Dr. Coleman waited patiently.
"I'm sorry," she said, embarrassment heating her cheeks. "I can't remember."
"That's alright," Dr. Coleman said gently. "Your name is Hailey Nelson, sweetheart."
"Right. Sorry. Hailey Nelson."
Even the last names were the same.
"Good," Dr. Coleman said, making a note. "Now, do you know where you are?"
"A hospital?" she offered.
"Correct," he confirmed with a smile. "Do you know what year it is?"
She thought carefully, doing the mental math.
If she had been in a coma for two years, and the accident happened in 2026...
"2028?" she guessed.
"That's right," Dr. Coleman said, looking pleased. "Very good. Your cognitive function seems largely intact."
"Is that unusual?" Eleanor asked from her position beside the bed.
"Actually, it's a very good sign," Dr. Coleman explained. "Many coma patients wake up with significant cognitive impairment. The fact that Hailey can reason through time calculations suggests her brain is recovering well."
He turned back to his patient.
"Now, can you tell me about your family?" he asked.
She glanced at Eleanor again, who nodded encouragingly.
"My mother is here with me," she said carefully. "She's been... taking care of me."
"Excellent," Dr. Coleman said, jotting more notes. "Your mother has been incredibly devoted. She's been here almost every day for two years. That kind of dedication is rare and remarkable."
Eleanor blushed slightly at the praise.
"She's my daughter," she said simply, as if that explained everything.
"Now I'm going to check your physical reflexes," Dr. Coleman announced, setting down his clipboard.
He pulled out a small rubber hammer from his coat pocket.
"This might feel a little strange," he warned before tapping her knee.
Her leg jerked automatically.
"Good response," he noted. "Strong and immediate. That's what we want to see."
He repeated the test on the other knee, then moved to check her ankles.
"Everything looks normal," he said approvingly. "How about coordination? Can you touch your nose with your finger?"
She lifted her hand, though it trembled with effort, and managed to touch her nose.
"Well done," Dr. Coleman praised. "Now touch your nose, then touch my finger."
He held up his index finger.
She managed the movement, though clumsily.
"Perfect," Dr. Coleman said. "Your coordination will improve with physical therapy. The tremors are normal — your muscles just need to rebuild their strength."
He pulled out a small flashlight.
"Now I'm going to shine this light in your eyes," he explained. "Follow the light with your eyes, but don't move your head."
The light clicked on, bright and focused.
She tracked it as it moved left and right, up and down.
"Excellent," Dr. Coleman said, clicking off the light. "Your pupil response is good, and your tracking is accurate. All very positive signs."
"So she's going to be okay?" Eleanor asked, hope and anxiety mingling in her voice.
"All indications suggest yes," Dr. Coleman said, turning to face Eleanor. "She'll need physical therapy to regain muscle strength and coordination. And there may be ongoing memory issues that will require monitoring."
"The memory loss," Eleanor began hesitantly. "Should we be worried? She doesn't remember much about her life before the accident."
Dr. Coleman shook his head reassuringly.
"Not at all," he said. "Memory loss after trauma is very common. The brain is protecting itself by keeping traumatic memories at bay while it heals."
He looked back at his patient.
"The important thing is that your basic functions are working," he continued. "Speech, movement, recognition — all good signs. We'll keep monitoring your progress, but I'm very optimistic about your recovery."
After Dr. Coleman left, Hailey lay in the growing darkness, staring at the ceiling tiles.
The tests had turned out to be easier than expected, but they had also driven home the reality of her situation.
She was living someone else's life, in someone else's body, with someone else's family.