Vanessa woke to the sound of plastic wheels rolling across the floor.
For a moment, she didn't know where she was. The ceiling above her was too white, too flat, broken only by a long crack that ran like a scar from one corner to the other. The air smelled sharp and clean, the kind of clean that stung the nose. She tried to move her hand and pain flared up her arm, quick and unforgiving.
She sucked in a breath.
"Easy," someone said.
Her sister's voice. Helen, her only sister, who took care of her as a sibling ever since they lost their mum.
Vanessa turned her head slowly. Every movement felt like it had to pass through thick water first. Helen was sitting beside the bed, hair pulled back in a loose bun, wearing a shirt tucked into her pants. There were dark shadows under her eyes.
"You're awake," her sister said softly, already leaning forward. "Don't move too much."
Vanessa swallowed. Her throat felt dry, like she'd been screaming all night even though she couldn't remember doing that. "What… time is it?"
"Evening," her sister said. "You've been out for a day."
Vanessa closed her eyes again, not to sleep, just to gather herself. When she opened them, her sister was holding a cup with a straw.
"Small sips," she said.
Vanessa obeyed. The water tasted like nothing and everything at the same time.
"How bad is it?" Vanessa asked.
Her sister hesitated, then smiled — the careful kind. "You're lucky. That's what the doctor said. Bruises, a mild fracture in your wrist, concussion. They're keeping you overnight. Maybe longer, just to be safe."
Lucky.
Vanessa nodded, even though the word felt wrong. Her body hurt, yes, but it was a dull, manageable pain. The kind you could get used to. What scared her more was how light she felt inside, like something important had been scooped out and left behind somewhere she couldn't reach.
A nurse came in not long after. She checked the IV, asked Vanessa her name, the color of a her dress, where she was. Vanessa answered all of it correctly, though it felt like she was reciting facts about someone else.
"Any nausea? Headache?" the nurse asked.
"My head hurts," Vanessa said.
"That's normal," the nurse replied. "Press the call button if it gets worse."
After she left, the room fell quiet again.
Vanessa stared at the wall. Her sister watched her the way people do when they're afraid to look away.
"Did I scare you?" Vanessa asked suddenly.
Her sister let out a short laugh that didn't sound amused. "You have no idea."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't," her sister said immediately. "Don't apologize."
They sat in silence for a while. Vanessa listened to the faint beeping of a monitor somewhere down the hall, the soft murmur of voices. Life going on, uninterrupted.
Her phone was on the side table.
She hadn't noticed it at first, but now it felt loud, even though it wasn't vibrating. Face down. Still.
She didn't reach for it.
Helen noticed anyway.
"If you want me to check it for you—"
"No," Vanessa said quickly.
Her sister nodded. "Okay."
Time passed in strange, uneven pieces. A doctor stopped by. Another nurse came in to adjust something. The light outside the window shifted from pale gold to gray. Vanessa dozed, woke, dozed again.
Every time footsteps passed the door, her heart jumped.
She hated herself for that.
Eventually, she couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Has anyone else come?" Vanessa asked, her voice quiet.
Helen didn't answer right away.
That pause, that tiny, almost invisible pause told Vanessa everything.
"No," she finally said. "No one else."
Vanessa stared at the ceiling. "Did he… call?"
Helen exhaled slowly. "No."
There it was.
The final confirmation.
Vanessa turned her face toward the window. Outside, the sky was dark now. She wondered what Mark was doing. If he was eating dinner. Watching something on his phone. If he knew.
He had to know.
Someone would've told him. The hospital would've called her emergency contact. The missed calls alone should've been enough.
"He might not know," Vanessa said weakly, though even she could hear how unconvincing it sounded.
Her sister didn't argue. She just reached over and took Vanessa's hand, careful of the IV.
"You don't have to defend him," she said gently.
Vanessa laughed once, a hollow sound. "I'm not."
But she was.
Or she had been. For days. For weeks. Maybe for years.
"I thought if something happened to me," Vanessa said slowly, "he'd come. No matter what."
Her sister's grip tightened. "I know."
That was worse than denial.
Tears came down, not loud, not dramatic. They slid down her temples and disappeared into the pillow. Her sister wiped them away without comment, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I was so stupid," Vanessa whispered.
"No," her sister said firmly. "You loved someone. That's not stupidity."
Vanessa didn't reply.
"Can you stay?" Vanessa asked.
Her sister didn't even hesitate. "Of course."
She pulled the chair closer, kicked off her shoes, and curled up awkwardly. Vanessa watched her, something warm and painful blooming in her chest at the same time.
"Thank you," Vanessa said.
Helen smiled. "Always." as she stepped out to exercise her legs, she had been sitting all through.
Before sleeping, Vanessa asked the nurse something she'd been thinking about for hours.
"Can you… limit visitors?" she said. "No surprises."
The nurse nodded, understanding flickering briefly across her face. "Of course."
That should've been the end of it.
Vanessa lay there, staring at the ceiling crack again. For the first time since the accident, her breathing slowed. Her sister's presence grounded her. The room felt safe. Controlled.
Almost peaceful.
Then voices rose outside.
Sharp. Urgent.
Her sister sat up instantly.
"I said she's not seeing anyone," her sister snapped.
A man replied, his voice low, calm — too calm. "I'm not here to argue."
Vanessa's chest tightened.
She knew that voice.
Her sister stood, moving toward the door like a shield. "You should've come sooner."
There was a pause.
Then the door handle turned.
Vanessa closed her eyes.