The mornings in Willowbend Village had a softness to them—a gentle hum, a kind of whisper that told the world to wake slowly, with patience and calm. Mist curled around the rooftops and drifted along the dirt paths. Roosters crowed lazily, as if they, too, enjoyed the extra warmth of their nests. Dew clung to the grass, sparkling like tiny diamonds when touched by the newborn sunlight. Nothing rushed in Willowbend. Nothing pushed too hard. It was a place where life moved at the pace of a heartbeat.
For Aiden Thompson, that steady rhythm was the only thing that kept him grounded.
Every dawn began the same. He pushed open the creaky wooden door of their tiny house, feeling the cold morning air greet his skin. The familiar scent of earth and woodsmoke wrapped around him like an old friend. Behind him came the soft, dragging footsteps of his younger sister.
Mia, with her tangled hair and lopsided smile, blinked sleepily up at him. She was seventeen, but the way she clutched her blanket around her shoulders made her look more like a child.
"You're up early again," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands.
Aiden reached over and smoothed a strand of hair away from her cheek. "Someone has to make sure you eat breakfast before the sun goes down."
She wrinkled her nose. "Drama."
He laughed softly. "Truth."
Mia huffed and tugged at his sleeve. "Come on. Pumpkin's waiting."
Pumpkin. Aiden shook his head but followed her anyway. The stray dog had been showing up around their house for months, and Mia had taken it upon herself to become his personal guardian angel. Aiden pretended to find it troublesome, but in truth, he loved watching her care for the little creature with such devotion. It was who she was—pure-hearted, kind, and endlessly compassionate. The very opposite of him, he liked to think.
The siblings walked along the familiar dirt path that led toward the edge of the village. Fields stretched on either side—lush green in spring, golden in summer, and dust-swept in winter. Today they glowed under the early sun, the colors gentle and pastel-like. Mia carried a small cloth bundle in her hands, the day-old bread she insisted on saving for the dog.
"You know," Aiden said as they walked, "one day Pumpkin's going to show up with a whole pack. And then what? You going to feed all of them?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation.
Aiden chuckled. "You can't save every lost thing, Mia."
"I can try," she replied, her voice soft but certain.
Something in that answer tugged at his chest. He glanced at her—Mia with her messy hair and delicate grin—and felt the familiar ache of fierce love. She was all he had left. All he had ever promised himself to protect.
They reached the hill where Pumpkin usually waited. The dog—a scruffy, skinny creature with reddish fur—trotted out from behind a bush, tail wagging furiously. Mia beamed as she crouched to greet him.
"See?" she said. "He waited."
Pumpkin barked once as if to confirm.
Aiden leaned against a tree, arms crossed loosely, watching the scene unfold. It was ordinary. Peaceful. One of those moments in life you didn't think too much about because it felt so naturally, beautifully insignificant.
He would later realize it was the last moment of true peace he'd know for a very long time.
Mia tore off bits of bread, feeding Pumpkin piece by piece. The dog gobbled them eagerly, tail wagging harder each time she laughed.
But then—unexpected, sudden—a loud rumble echoed from the road downhill.
Pumpkin's ears perked up. His head snapped toward the sound. Before either sibling could react, he took off at full speed, bolting down the grassy slope.
"Pumpkin, no!" Mia shouted.
Aiden stepped forward immediately. "Mia, don't—"
But she was already running.
She sprinted after the dog, her bare feet kicking up dust as she chased him toward the narrow road that curved dangerously close to the hill. The rumble grew louder—a truck, its engine growling aggressively, barreling down the road with a carelessness that made Aiden's stomach flip.
"MIA!" Aiden screamed, his voice cracking with terror.
She didn't hear him. Or maybe she did, but her heart, always too big, always too eager to help, guided her faster than her reason.
Pumpkin darted into the road.
Mia lunged after him.
The truck appeared around the bend—large, fast, and horribly close.
Everything inside Aiden froze.
"MIA! STOP!"
She reached the dog. She pushed him aside—an instinctive, desperate act of protection.
The truck driver slammed the brakes.
Tires screeched.
But momentum is merciless.
The truck swerved too late.
A dull, sickening thud tore through the morning air.
The world stopped.
Aiden felt it—the moment the universe collapsed in on itself. His scream ripped from his throat, raw and broken, as he sprinted downhill. He stumbled twice, falling hard, but he scrambled back up, pushing himself beyond the limits of his body.
He reached her.
Mia lay on her side in the middle of the road, her limbs awkwardly twisted, blood streaking across her forehead. Pumpkin stood beside her, trembling, whining softly.
"Mia… Mia, no—no, no, no—" Aiden's voice failed him as he slid to his knees and gathered her into his arms. "Open your eyes… Mia, please—look at me."
Her eyelids fluttered weakly, revealing the faintest glint of recognition before slipping closed again.
His heart shattered.
"MIA!" He shook her gently, panic flooding every inch of him. "Stay awake. Please stay awake."
The truck driver stumbled out of his vehicle, pale and shaking. "I—I didn't see—she ran out—I'm so sorry, I didn't—"
Aiden didn't hear a word. All he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding wildly, drowning out everything but the terror screaming through his veins.
He lifted Mia into his arms. She felt weightless. Too weightless.
He ran.
He ran faster than he ever had in his life—past the hill, past the fields, past the houses that blurred in his vision. People yelled his name as he tore through the village, but he didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
The clinic was small, old, barely equipped—but it was all they had.
He crashed through the doors, shouting for help.
Nurses rushed forward, lifting Mia from his trembling arms and rushing her into an examination room. Aiden tried to follow but was blocked by a young nurse.
"Sir, you can't go in."
"She's my sister!" he shouted, voice breaking. "Let me in—please—she needs me!"
"She's in good hands," she said gently. "We'll update you as soon as we know anything."
Aiden stumbled back, nearly collapsing. He pressed his hands to his face, shaking uncontrollably. His breaths came too fast, too shallow. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Every horrible possibility clawed at his mind.
What if she never woke up? What if he lost her?
What if this was his fault?
Because it was his fault—wasn't it? He should've held her hand. He should've stopped her. He should've paid more attention.
Minutes turned into agonizing hours.
He paced the small waiting area, worn-out wooden floorboards creaking beneath his restless steps. Villagers arrived—neighbors, acquaintances, people who had known the siblings their entire lives. They offered murmured prayers and soft words, but none of it reached him. None of it mattered.
Finally, the door opened.
The doctor—a man in his sixties with tired eyes and a calm demeanor—stepped out. Aiden rushed to him so fast he nearly tripped.
"How is she? Is she okay? Tell me she's okay."
The doctor exhaled slowly, bracing himself. That alone made Aiden's heart drop.
"She's alive," the doctor began, choosing his words with care. "And that is a blessing."
Aiden swallowed hard. "But?"
"But her injuries are severe."
Aiden felt the ground tilt beneath him.
"She has a concussion, cuts and bruises, and a dislocated shoulder. Those, fortunately, are treatable. But the impact to her head…" The doctor paused. "It has caused trauma—not just physical, but neurological."
Aiden's brows knitted. "Meaning?"
"When she wakes," the doctor said gently, "she may not behave like the Mia you know. She may experience confusion. Unstable emotions. Panic episodes. Memory lapses. Possibly even difficulty understanding her surroundings."
Aiden stared at him, unable to process the words.
Neurological… unstable… memory lapses…
Mia?
His Mia?
No. No, this couldn't be happening.
"She will need long-term treatment," the doctor continued. "Specialized care. Perhaps even surgery in the future."
Aiden's throat tightened painfully. His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. "I can take care of her," he said, breathless. "Whatever she needs, I'll— I'll get it. Just tell me what to do."
The doctor placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "For now, all you can do is wait."
Wait.
Wait while his whole world dangled by a thread.
The doctor left him alone in the hallway.
And that was when the weight hit him—crushing, suffocating. Aiden sank onto a bench, elbows on his knees, hands clutching his hair. Tears streaked down his face faster than he could wipe them away.
"This is my fault," he whispered to the quiet hallway. "I should've been faster. I should've stopped her."
He pressed his forehead to his palms, shoulders shaking with each breath.
"Please… Mia… don't leave me."
Time lost meaning. The sun outside shifted. Shadows stretched across the floor. Nurses walked by in hushed motions. But Aiden didn't move. Couldn't move. His heart was somewhere on the other side of that door, lying broken beside his sister.
Hours later, a nurse tapped his shoulder. "You can see her now."
Aiden didn't remember standing, or walking, or entering the room. All he knew was the sight of Mia—lying still, hooked up to wires, oxygen tubes in her nose, her skin pale under the hospital lights.
He approached slowly, like one wrong step might shatter her.
"Mia…" He pulled a chair close and held her hand. Her fingers were cold.
He pressed his forehead to the back of her hand and cried silently. Not the loud, panicked cries from earlier—these were deeper, quieter, carved from the core of his soul.
He stayed there for hours, whispering to her, promising her, begging her.
"I'll take care of you," he murmured, voice hoarse. "I don't care what it takes. I won't lose you. You hear me? I won't."
But beneath those words was a truth he couldn't avoid.
Their quiet life—those peaceful mornings—were gone.
Something had shattered beyond repair.
And Aiden had no idea how he would piece their world back together.
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