I awaken to the disorienting silence of an empty bed, a heavy sigh escaping my lips. Deep down, I had always known it was but a fleeting dream. Rowan and I together in my bed? It felt more like a fantasy spun from the fabric of my foggy mind—a mind clouded by the haze of medication after my slip into unconsciousness at the hospital. After all, they had pumped me full of drugs; it was no surprise that I had begun to conjure illusions. Carefully, I ease myself out of bed, each movement a reminder of my delicate state. The world around me sways unsteadily, compelling me to sit once more, battling the dizzying whirl of my surroundings. A few moments tick by before I muster the strength to stagger to the bathroom and step beneath the shower's warm cascade, desperate to cleanse myself of the lingering scent of antiseptic and worry. So much loomed on my to-do list, yet I felt paralyzed, unsure where to begin. A shattered phone and a wrecked car had severed my connection to the outside world. The police had informed me that my phone was dismantled, reduced to fragments when I collided with the ground. School had granted me a brief respite, but my unsteady situation left me in need of clarity before I could return to work. Dressed at last, my head throbbed relentlessly—a dull reminder of my current circumstances. "Dammit! I need my pain meds," I cursed silently as I shuffled my way downstairs, each step a monumental effort. My body felt drained, as if I were a marionette with tangled strings, fighting against the urge to collapse back into a state of blissful unconsciousness. Upon reaching the kitchen, I opted for something simple, craving the dull comfort of food even as I abandoned hopes of enjoyment in the flavor. It was as though I were consuming cardboard; my spirit sagged alongside my strength. Glancing toward the inviting couch, I decided the kitchen island was more prison than sanctuary. In that dim living room, reality hit me again: head injuries could rob a person more than just their balance; they could steal entire days from existence. I gobbled down the uninspiring meal and swallowed my meds with a sigh, settling into the couch with hopes of a few minutes of peace, when suddenly, the doorbell rang, piercing my solitude. Annoyed, I groaned. The last thing I wanted was to stand and entertain whatever uninvited visitor awaited me. My legs felt like rubber, as though tainted by an unshakable fatigue, and I fervently wished for the world to fade back into sleep. It crossed my mind to ignore it, but the doorbell rang once more, each chime resonating like an unwelcome insistence. Was it rude to stay silent? Surely, they could assume I was asleep, just as I hoped. But, against my will, the bell rang again. "Goddammit!" I cursed under my breath, reluctantly hauling myself up to answer the door. Swinging it open, I came face-to-face with a woman I didn’t recognize. She was strikingly beautiful—long black hair cascading over her shoulders, piercing green eyes sparkling with an unexpected warmth, a heart-shaped face framed by full lips. "Uh, can I help you?" I asked, leaning cautiously against the doorframe, my legs trembling beneath me. Her small smile was laced with a hint of familiarity and—was that sympathy? But before I could process her intent, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around me in an unexpected embrace. My body tensed in confusion; I didn’t know her. “I was afraid you would still be asleep,” she said, stepping back to gauge my reaction. “I’m sorry, but who are you?” I asked, bewilderment etching itself across my features. She slapped her forehead in mild frustration, a laugh escaping her lips. “Shit, I’m sorry... I should have introduced myself first. How rude of me.” I couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto my face. There was something oddly charming about her blunder. “Can we please get inside?” she urged, her eyes sparkling with hope. “I’m not entirely comfortable inviting a stranger into my home,” I responded warily, unsure of her motives. “I understand your skepticism, especially after everything you’ve been through,” she replied, her tone earnest. “But I promise, I’m not a serial killer or anything.” I found myself scrutinizing her, trapped between a desire for solitude and an inexplicable urge to allow her in. A flicker of trust ignited within me, a feeling I hadn’t anticipated. “Fine, but if you turn out to be a killer, I swear I’ll gut you like a chicken and dance all the way back to my bedroom for a nap,” I warned, stepping aside. “I like you already,” she grinned, entering my haven. “Do you need any assistance?” she asked, noticing my struggle to keep my balance. “No!” I snapped, the glare in my eyes faltering on her surrendering hands. “Okay,” she backed off, amusement sparkling in her green depths. Leading her into the living room, I practically collapsed onto the sofa, relief washing over me as my shaky legs found a moment of rest. “So, who are you, and what brings you here?” I was intrigued, my earlier misgivings temporarily forgotten. “I’m Scarlet, but you can call me Letty… I’m your brother’s girlfriend.” Panic surged through my veins; dread accompanied it. “Yeah, we’re done here… Please leave.” The thought of involving another person from my past filled me with resentment. I had sworn to distance myself from anything that reminded me of them. “Please, hear me out,” Letty pleaded, her voice earnest, and against my better judgment, I relented. “I know Travis is not the best person,” she continued, “I love him, but I also acknowledge the damage he’s caused to you. No one deserves to be treated the way you were treated—by him or by anyone else.” “I wanted to reach out for some time now,” she confessed quietly. “When I heard about your accident, I knew I had to come see you. I understand that you have no reason to trust me, but I’m hoping you’ll at least give me a chance.” I shifted my feet onto the sofa, leaning back as I contemplated her words. “Does he know you’re here?” I asked. “The man doesn’t dictate my life,” she replied, confident. “But he’s aware of my visit. We don’t keep secrets from each other.” Her loyalty to Travis was evident, but it reminded me of the pain he inflicted on my life. I craved to dismiss her; I wanted nothing of familial ties. Yet a small voice inside me encouraged hope. Perhaps I was due for a change, a chance at a connection unfettered by the scars of my past. “I’ll give you a chance on one condition,” I said, my resolve wavering. “What’s your condition?” she asked, her curiosity piquing. “You never bring up Travis or his family. I want nothing to do with them.” Letty weighed my condition, deliberating over her options, and finally nodded. “Okay,” she relented. “Friends?” She extended her hand toward me, and I took it hesitantly, uncertain of my decision. “Friends,” I echoed, a mixture of anxiety and hope swelling in my chest—perhaps this wasn’t a mistake after all. We exchanged tentative smiles, easing into conversation as she shared her life. Letty revealed she worked as a secretary at my father’s company, and that she was just a year older than me. “Do you have any siblings?” I inquired, genuinely intrigued. “No, I’m an only child,” she said, her gaze dropping for a moment. “My parents passed when I was three.” A gasp escaped me. “I’m so sorry!” She shrugged it off lightly. “It’s okay, honestly. I barely remember them. I grew up with my Nana, and she’s amazing. She’ll definitely love you.” As the morning melted into conversation, the strange yet comforting ambiance enveloped us. I had never truly formed a friendship like this, and despite my uncertainty, the feeling began to grow. “I had this hilarious story I wanted to tell you,” Letty began, her laughter infectious just as a knock at the door interrupted her. “Could you check who it is?” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m not sure I can get up without falling.” “Sure,” she replied, rising to her feet. I watched as she opened the door and exchanged words with someone. Their hushed voices reached me, but confusion clouded my thoughts when my eyes landed on a tall woman with fiery red hair, dragging a duffel bag behind her. “Hello, Miss Sharp,” she greeted, a smile on her lips. I glared at her, irritation bubbling within me. “Who the hell are you?” Letty stepped in before I could voice another complaint. “Apparently, she’s your nurse—hired to take care of you.” Nurse? I had never enlisted for any such assistance. My mind raced with questions. Who was she, and what was her true purpose in my home?