As the evening drew to a close, the group's rib-cracking laughter still echoed faintly in the air. The warmth of newfound connection lingered like the fading aroma of dinner, even as the household began to retreat to their rooms one by one.
Elizabeth followed Maverick up the stairs to her room, offering a polite smile when Jayda smiled at her.
After sitting in the wheelchair all day, she felt any more minute in that chair would make her explode.
Thank God maverick helped her to her feet – not in the chair this time.
Her heart was full, but her mind was tangled in a web of emotions she couldn't quite name.
Back in the quiet of her own space, the door clicked shut behind her, sealing her in a fragile stillness. The walls, painted in calming pastels, seemed too calm for the whirlwind inside her.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, fingers clutching the edge of the mattress. The laughter from earlier now felt like it had happened to someone else — distant, like a memory she wasn't sure belonged to her.
Why did they look at me like that?
Why do I look like her?
She tried to shake the thought, but it clung to her like a second skin.
The warmth of a new family was supposed to be comforting, but for Elizabeth, it stirred something else — a hollow ache she couldn't place. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the exact moment her life changed… the accident… the pain… the silence afterward.
Then, out of nowhere, a sharp pain lanced through her head.
"Ouch," she gasped, clutching her temples. Her breath hitched. Her brain felt like it would split open — a flash of light, a voice, a girl laughing — high-pitched, familiar. But it wasn't coming from the room. It was inside her head.
Then the world tilted.
The pain sharpened — and everything went black.
And then — silence.
Her body swayed before collapsing onto the bed, eyes fluttering shut as the void pulled her under.
****
Darkness gave way to a dim, golden glow.
Elizabeth found herself standing in the middle of a room bathed in a golden light.
She felt light, almost weightless. There was laughter — her own — rich and familiar. Before she could take a step, she was no longer standing.
She was kissing someone.
Not just anyone.
Her fingers curled around the back of his neck, his hands cradling her face like something precious. The kiss was deep, intimate, electric. Her heart thudded in sync with his, like they'd done this a thousand times. It felt like home.
And yet…
She couldn't see his face — only his eyes. A vivid shade of green, sharp and soft all at once. Just above the left brow, a thin scar curved like a fading memory. She reached up to touch it, to ask who he was—
But the moment crumbled like sand in her hands.
Suddenly, she was six again.
The air was filled with the squeals and laughter of children, and the garden buzzed with life. Bright flowers bloomed wildly around a low white fence. She ran barefoot across the grass, chasing her twin sister — her mirror image, giggling wildly as they dodged behind rose bushes.
"Catch me if you can, Lizzy!" her twin called out, her pigtails flying behind her.
"I will!" Elizabeth shouted, her tiny legs pumping with joy.
Off to the side, Pedro was building a crooked fort from sticks and pillows. He looked up and grinned at them, waving a muddy hand.
"Come play here! I made us a castle!" he yelled.
"We're princesses!" the twins chorused.
The sunlight, the laughter, the love — it all wrapped around her like a memory she'd forgotten she missed. A golden childhood moment.
But just as she reached out to grab her sister's hand—
Thunder cracked across the sky.
The garden dimmed, the colors fading.
And she began to wake.
*****
Her legs felt like jelly as she slid off the bed, feet hitting the cool floor with a soft thud. She moved on instinct, one shaky step at a time, as if the memory still clung to her skin.
The bathroom light was harsh against her tired eyes, but she didn't flinch. She leaned over the sink and turned on the tap, letting cold water pool into her palms before splashing it across her face.
Again.
And again.
As if the sting of the cold could erase the fragments swirling in her mind. Or at least help her breathe.
She stared at her reflection. Her eyes looked older tonight. Not from age, but from remembering.
A kiss.
His eyes.
Her sister's laughter.
She reached for a towel, patting her face dry, then stood there for a second — still. Listening to the quiet hum of the house. The storm inside her had quieted, but it hadn't gone.
Back in her room, she moved more deliberately. She opened the drawer beside her bed, pulling out a small notebook and pen. The pages were blank — waiting.
She curled up at the corner of the bed and began to write.
Green eyes. Scar over his left brow. I kissed him. I fainted. I felt safe.
Garden. Rose bushes.
My twin — laughing. Pedro. Castle made of pillows. I remember being happy.
Her handwriting was uneven, but the act of writing steadied her.
She underlined the last word:
Happy.
She didn't know why the memories were returning now — or what they meant — but for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel quite so lost.
Just as she finished scribbling the last word, a soft knock rapped against the door.
She startled, quickly flipping the notebook shut.
"Elizabeth?" Jayda's voice came through, warm and gentle. "Breakfast is ready. Don't worry, I saved you some pancakes."
Elizabeth blinked, her heart still thudding. She glanced down at the notepad — the ink still fresh, the memories raw.
"I'll be out in a minute," she called, hoping her voice didn't sound as shaky as she felt.
She slid the notebook into the drawer, tucking it beneath a folded sweater, then sat for a second — breathing, steadying herself.
This was her life now. A new home. A new family. But the past was creeping back in, and something told her it wasn't done with her yet.
She smoothed her hair in the mirror, put on a quiet smile, and opened the door.
********
The scent of maple syrup and cinnamon drifted through the hallway as Elizabeth made her way to the dining room. Her legs still felt a little heavy, but she pushed through it, leaning on the wall until the room came into view.
The table was alive with soft chatter and the occasional clink of cutlery. Jayda was setting down a fresh plate of pancakes, while Maverick leaned back in his chair, already mid-bite.
"There she is!" Jayda beamed. "Just in time. Sit, sit. I didn't let anyone touch your stack."
"Morning," Elizabeth murmured, offering a small smile as she slid into the empty seat next to Maverick.
"You okay?" he asked under his breath, eyeing her carefully.
She nodded, brushing a curl from her face. "Just… a weird dream."
Jayda poured her a glass of orange juice, pausing just long enough to study her face — not prying, but noticing.
"Dreams can be like that," she said. "Mine had a talking goat once. Wouldn't stop asking me for tax advice."
Maverick nearly choked on his juice, laughing. "That's oddly specific."
Elizabeth laughed softly, grateful for the lightness.
As the conversation moved on — Jayda asking Maverick about work, Alex popping in to grab toast, greeting Elizabeth and kissing his wife before going to work — Elizabeth sat quietly, soaking it in. This strange, warm family she'd somehow stepped into. The way they made space for her, without pressing too hard.
And yet… she felt their eyes now and then. Curious. Careful. Especially Jayda's.
Not accusing.
Not suspicious.
Just... watching.
Elizabeth stabbed a piece of pancake with her fork and took a bite, smiling to herself.
They didn't know what she was remembering.
And for now, she wasn't ready to tell them.