By Aliana's bedside, the world was quiet—too quiet—except for the faint sound of someone crying softly, and the trembling warmth of a hand clutching hers. That warmth kept her anchored, pulling her back from the cold edge of whatever darkness she had been lost in.
When her eyes fluttered open, the room came into view, swimming in a haze of light and color. Bouquets covered every surface—white roses, lilies, carnations, and in the far corner, a small bunch of light pink tulips. They stood apart, delicate, almost too intentional.
Before she could think about them, the door opened.
"My daughter's awake!" Her mother's voice cracked with relief as she rushed forward, throwing her arms around Aliana. Her father followed—Peter Jordan, the man who never lost composure, whose voice trembled as he said, "You scared your father, Aliana."
"I just fainted," Aliana muttered weakly. "It's not that serious."
Her mother pulled back sharply, eyes wet but scolding. "Not that serious? You collapsed, Aliana! Two days—you were unconscious for two days! And you think this isn't serious?"
Her heart lurched. "Two days?" she repeated, sitting up too fast. Her head swam, but her mind screamed only one thing—the diary. She had to check it. Something could have changed. Something could be written again.
Her mother gently pushed her back onto the bed. "No, you're not going anywhere. I'll talk to Arman myself. He's not to overwork you anymore. Look at you, you're pale, thin—you should quit, Aliana."
"No," she protested softly. "It's not about work. I was just… stressed. About something else."
Her father moved closer, his voice low. "Then tell us. Whatever it is, we'll fix it. You don't have to carry anything alone."
She looked at them—her mother's shaking hands, her father's worried eyes—and her chest tightened. They had always been her safety net, fixing every mess she made, mending every break. But this… this wasn't something they could fix. Still, she wanted to try. She wanted to tell them everything.
Her lips parted, Just when she was about to say it.
And then, the sound came.
A sharp, piercing screech tore through her head, louder than anything she had ever heard. The world spun violently, and agony ripped through her body. She clutched her skull and chest at the same time. Gasping, as invisible shards seemed to stab through her skin, her chest, her ribs. It was as if her entire body was being shattered from the inside. "Aghhhh!!"
She could feel glass—tiny, burning splinters piercing her arms, her face. A heavy, crushing weight pressed down on her chest, stealing her breath. The air wouldn't come; her lungs were collapsing under it. She could smell metal and blood, the thick, choking scent filling her nostrils.
She wasn't in her room anymore.
The world around her was screaming. Headlights blazed through the rain, red taillights twisting and spinning. Her own heartbeat thundered in her ears as she tried to move—tried to push the weight off, but it was useless. The steering wheel was jammed against her chest. Her vision blurred, her breaths shallow and broken.
Her hand reached forward weakly. The screen on the dashboard blinked through static. The numbers were glowing:
24/12/24 – 11:47 PM
And just before everything went still, she saw it through the cracked windshield, half-buried in the wreck, a red car, its front twisted and smoking. The number plate flickered in her fading sight
BXR-2047.
Then the light went out.
Aliana gasped awake in the hospital bed, the room returning all at once. Her lungs burned as if still crushed beneath that wreckage. A single tear slid down her cheek, as she stared blankly at the ceiling, trembling. Her parents were right there just like a moment ago worried to death.
"What was that?" she whispered, her voice hollow. 'Did I just witness my own death?'
The doctors rushed into the room the second her body began trembling uncontrollably. Wires and monitors beeped in alarm as they surrounded her, checking her pulse, her breathing, her eyes. Aliana could barely move, her body frozen in a strange stillness. She wasn't in pain anymore, but her mind was blank—empty, as if her soul hadn't fully returned yet.
"She's in shock," one of the doctors said firmly, adjusting her IV. "Her vitals are stable, but her response is delayed. She'll need time to recover—mentally and physically."
Her mother stood near the bed, clutching her chest. "What could've caused this? She was fine just a moment ago…"Peter Jordan looked completely lost, his usual calm replaced by silent panic. "We need answers," he muttered, but no one had any.
Outside the hospital, the day went on as if nothing had happened.
In another part of the city, Arman sat behind his desk, flipping through contracts when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen—Samara Jordan. With a sigh, he picked up.
"Arman," Samara's voice trembled slightly. "It's Aliana… she's in the hospital."
He froze mid-turn of a page. "Hospital?"
"She collapsed again. The doctor says it's stress, or shock… I don't know. She's been missing you these last few days. Maybe if you visited her, it might help."
Arman leaned back in his chair, silent. His expression unreadable, his fingers resting against his temple. Samara's voice softened. "Please, Arman. Just talk to her. Maybe take her out once she's discharged. It'll mean a lot to her."
After a long pause, his voice came, quiet and restrained. "Alright. I'll take her out for dinner tomorrow."
Samara smiled faintly through the line. "She'll be happy to hear that."
Back in the hospital, Aliana stood by the window, her gown loose, her skin pale against the gray light outside. Her reflection stared back at her, hollow-eyed and lost.
"Twenty-four… twelve… twenty-four," she whispered under her breath. "That's December. This year." Her hand trembled against the glass. "Christmas Eve…"
Her throat went dry. "It looked like an accident," she murmured, remembering the twisted metal, the smell of blood. The air had been so heavy she couldn't breathe, her ribs crushed by the weight of the car. Her body shook again. She pressed her shaking hands together, but they wouldn't stop trembling.
She couldn't stay there. Not when she had so many questions clawing at her skull. She needed the diary.
Throwing on a shawl, she stepped out of the room quietly and walked down the corridor, her heart racing faster with every step. The moment she stepped outside the hospital doors, she froze.
Arman was standing there, walking toward her.
For a second, relief flooded her chest. "Arman… you're here." Her voice was soft, almost surprised.
He looked at her with his usual calm. "What are you doing outside?"
"I… I had to pick something up. I'm going home," she said quickly.
"I thought you were sick."
"I'm fine now. I'm sorry if I caused you trouble. You must have been busy."
He didn't reply immediately. His eyes moved slightly, and for a brief second, she thought he was going to scold her. Instead, he reached up and smoothed down her hair that was blowing across her face. "I'll drop you off."
She blinked, startled but quietly happy. She followed him to the car, her heart light for the first time in days. They sat in silence, the hum of the engine filling the space between them.
After a while, Arman spoke without looking at her. "I heard you've been under a lot of stress lately."
Her lips curved slightly. He was worried. "A little," she admitted softly.
He nodded, still not looking at her. "Is it because of work?"
She hesitated, unsure how to answer. Before she could, his tone changed. "You should quit."
The words hit harder than they should have. She turned to him, shocked.
"It's not like that," she said quietly.
"You're not built for it, Aliana," he said simply, eyes still fixed on the road. "You'll ruin your health trying to prove you can be something else. Just… stop before you do."
Her chest tightened painfully. For a brief moment, she had thought he cared. That maybe the visit meant something. But to him, she was just a burden—something fragile, troublesome, disposable.
Her eyes burned, and she turned her face toward the window, blinking quickly to stop the tears. The city lights blurred into a streak of gold and gray.