The dream wasn't a carousel of horrors this time. It was a sun-drenched memory, soft at the edges like an old photograph. Little Althea, all of thirteen years old with two messy braids and a crown made of dandelions, stood on a makeshift stage a tree stump in the Vale family garden. Her audience was a single, solemn-looking girl with glasses that were too big for her face, clutching a book to her chest.
"…and that's the end of my concert!" the dream-Althea announced, striking a dramatic pose. She pointed a commanding finger at the shy girl. "You! You with the glasses! Will you be my biggest and number one fan? If you are, I'll give you special treatment from the princess of the Vale herself!" She puffed her chest out with immense, childish pride.
The shy girl blinked, her serious expression melting into a small, genuine smile. "I will. I will if you continue to sing for me."
Althea kid beamed, hopping off the stump. "Alright then! What is your name?"
The girl adjusted her glasses. "Haven—"
BAM.
Althea's eyes snapped open. The morning light was streaming into her room. She blinked, the image of the little girl with glasses seared into her mind.
"Haven?" she whispered into the quiet room. "Omg, was that a core memory? Haven was my first fan?" A slow, goofy grin spread across her face. "Damn, I was even a tyrant when I was a kid. Well, that's just me, I guess." Her internal monologue was a whirlwind. Main character energy, even back then. Slay, little me, slay.
She stretched, and a twinge in her neck made her wince. Ughh, my neck hurts. A different kind of hurt. Like something sharp has gone there while I was asleep? Huh? She rubbed at it absently. A faint, blurry image flickered in her mind from the night before. Haven, leaning over her, her face illuminated by the hallway light. Something in her hand. A glint of… glass? "Wait… was Haven holding something? Was she about to put something on my neck?" She frowned, trying to grasp the slippery memory. "Was that just a trick of the eye? Was I just way too sleepy? Or maybe she was just positioning T-Rex for me to hug?" The thought was comforting. The other one… wasn't. She pushed it away. Brain glitch. Must be. It's probably from that one documentary about haunted vials I definitely didn't watch. Nope.
Fueled by a sudden thirst and the need for answers (and maybe some bacon), she padded out to the kitchen. The sight that greeted her was a balm to her weird, morning-after confusion. There was Haven, already dressed in a sleek, charcoal grey pantsuit, her focus entirely on perfectly flipping a pancake. The air smelled of coffee, maple syrup, and her Grape Old Wine scent. It was domestic. It was safe. It was a vibe.
"Good morning, Haven!" Althea chirped, sliding into a seat at the island. "I dreamed of something! I think it was a core memory! I dreamed of you when we were kids! In my absolute tyranny, I commanded you to be my number one fan!"
Haven turned, and for a split second, Althea saw something unreadable flash in her eyes—something sharp and deep, gone so fast she might have imagined it. It was like a system error on a perfect screen. It was replaced by a soft, almost wistful smile.
"I was," Haven said, her voice quiet, like she was confessing a sacred truth. "My first and only concert. And good morning, my love. We should eat." She placed a plate of perfect, golden-brown pancakes in front of Althea. "By the way, as much as I want to accompany you on your monthly check-up, I can't. An unavoidable conflict has arisen. It's your second-month anniversary of your recovery today. You have a scheduled check-up at 9 AM. Mrs. Li will assist you."
Althea's face fell. She pouted, a dramatic, full-lipped expression. "Ahh, but I want it to be with you, tho! It's our amnes-i-versary!" She sighed, spearing a pancake with her fork with more force than necessary. "But it's aight. I'm a big girl. I'm gonna ask the doctor myself instead. Gotta advocate for my own mental health, you know? It's self-care."
Haven paused, her coffee mug halfway to her lips. "What precisely are you intending to ask?"
Althea looked her dead in the eye, her expression utterly serious. "Well, about pregnancy stuff. Is it safe for me to have a baby even though I have amnesia? Like, does my brain being a scrambled egg affect my uterus's ability to, you know, host a tiny VIP?"
Haven choked, sputtering into her coffee. A rare, utterly unscripted moment of chaos. "What?"
"I'm just making sure!" Althea insisted, her cheeks flushing. "We've been... you know. Trying. With my full and enthusiastic consent! I just wanna make sure the hardware is compatible with the new software update! You know what, just go to your work! I'm gonna ask the doctors myself! They have charts and stuff." She aggressively ate her breakfast, drowning her pancakes in a lake of syrup, as if sugar could shield her from embarrassment.
Haven cleared her throat, composing herself with visible effort, dabbing her lips with a napkin. "I… have critical obligations now, Althea. Mrs. Li will be here at 8. The car is scheduled." Her voice was back to its controlled cadence, but her ears were still faintly pink. Score one for flustering the unflusterable, Althea thought with internal glee.
"Alright, comere, Haven," Althea said, hopping off her stool. She wrapped her arms around Haven in a tight hug, then gave her a soft, lingering kiss, tasting of coffee and maple. "Take care. Don't let the corporate gremlins get you down. I will just be here managing the fort with our prince, Sushi! And possibly designing nursery mood boards in my head RAWR."
She listened to the sound of the car engine fading away, a tiny, persistent tab open in the background of her mind still nagging about the glint of glass. Probably just a bobby pin. Or a really fancy watch. She has those.
Mrs. Li arrived precisely at 8, her demeanor as calm and efficient as ever. She was like a human swiss army knife of competence. A luxurious, silent, chauffeured car whisked them away to a private, intimidatingly clean medical center that smelled like money and antiseptic. It was the kind of place where you felt poor just by breathing the air. The check-up was long, clinical, and incredibly detailed. They scanned her, they tapped her knees, they made her say "apple, table, penny" backwards, which Althea was convinced was a test designed by a sadist.
Dr. Evans, a woman with a kind but no-nonsense demeanor that screamed "I know things about your spleen you don't," went through everything. She checked Althea's blood pressure, her heart rate, her reflexes. She asked her to follow a light with her eyes, tested her coordination by having her touch her nose, and asked a series of cognitive questions that made Althea feel like she was on a very niche game show.
"Your physical health has been remarkably stable, Althea," Dr. Evans said, making notes on a tablet that probably cost more than Althea's entire childhood home (not that she could remember it). "That's excellent. Now, regarding your memory. You mentioned remembering fragments. Does your head hurt more often when this happens?"
"Not really," Althea replied, swinging her legs from the exam table. "It's more like… little movies. They don't hurt. They just… are. Sometimes they have a weird filter on them. Like the early 2000s music video filter."
Dr. Evans's lips quirked. "Well, that's a positive sign. It suggests your brain is healing, attempting to access those neural pathways." She scrolled through her tablet, her brow furrowing slightly. "That does explain, however, the rather high level of sedatives in your last bloodwork, Althea. I'd advise we slow them down. It says here the dosage was spiked last month. It was normal before, and—"
The doctor stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes flickered up from the tablet, over Althea's shoulder, to where Mrs. Li was standing quietly by the door like a sentinel. Althea turned her head. Mrs. Li wasn't doing anything threatening, just standing there with her hands clasped. But her gaze was fixed on the doctor, intense and unblinking. It wasn't angry. It was… heavy. It was like they were having a whole silent conversation in the space of a second, transmitted via psychic Wi-Fi that Althea wasn't subscribed to.
Dr. Evans's demeanor shifted. A slightly strained smile appeared on her face, the kind you give when you realize you've just stepped on a landmine in a minefield you didn't know existed. "Uh, haha, sorry about that, Mrs. Vale. Maybe it's a miscalculation on my end. A glitch in the system." She laughed, a little too brightly, the sound bouncing off the sterile walls. "These new electronic records, you know? Always something. Well, that's the end of it. You're doing fine. Is there any questions or clarifications you have for me before we end this session?"
The moment was so weird, so jarringly out of place in the clinical environment, that it stuck in Althea's mind like gum on a shoe. Spiked sedatives? A glitch? It felt… off. It felt like that moment in a movie when the background music does a sinister dun-dun-dunnn. But Mrs. Li was just… Mrs. Li. And Dr. Evans was a professional. Maybe it was a glitch. The universe was basically one big buggy simulation anyway.
But she had a mission. She mentally swiped away the weird notification. "Uhm, doctor," Althea began, leaning forward. "Is it safe for me to conceive a child even though I have amnesia? Would my amnesia affect my pregnancy if ever? I worry if I'm too fragile to have a child. You see, my wife and I have been trying. With my consent, of course." She added the last part quickly. "Like, super consent. Enthusiastic consent. We have forms."
Dr. Evans's smile became more natural, relieved at the subject change. "It's perfectly fine from a neurological standpoint. The amnesia itself won't affect your body's ability to carry a child. The main concern would be the stress, as pregnancy can be hormonally and emotionally turbulent. It's a significant physiological event. Stress can sometimes… reveal things, even to the body itself. Trigger latent responses." She chose her words carefully. "But with the right, stable, and supportive environment, you should be absolutely fine. The key is consistency and calm."
Althea's heart soared. Consistency and calm? That was their brand! Haven was the human embodiment of a weighted blanket in a storm. "Really? That's great then! Slay! I can't wait to tell my wife! Thank you, doctor. That would be all for me for now. You've been… enlightening."
As they walked back through the gleaming, silent hospital corridors, they passed the pediatrics wing. Through an open door, Althea saw a mother gently rocking a newborn, a look of pure, exhausted love on her face. The baby was a tiny, scrunched-up thing, making little snuffling noises. Althea's hand instinctively went to her own stomach. A weird, warm, fizzy feeling bubbled up inside her, a mix of longing and sheer terror.
Hopefully, me and Haven will conceive. I can't wait to see little Haven. Hehe. It'll have her serious eyebrows and my chaotic energy. It'll probably come out giving a stern lecture on market volatility before demanding a cuddle.
In the car on the way home, the quiet luxury felt more like a bubble. She turned to Mrs. Li, who was gazing out the window with her usual inscrutable calm. "Mrs. Li," Althea started, breaking the silence. "What does having a kid feel like? You have a kid, right?"
Mrs. Li's stern features softened minutely. It was like watching a mountain acknowledge a particularly charming wildflower. "I have two. A boy and a girl. Grown now."
"Tell me everything. The good, the messy, the weird."
And Mrs. Li did. She launched into a long, wonderfully goofy story about her son putting a live frog in her best purse before a parent-teacher conference, and her daughter attempting to cut her own hair with craft scissors to look like a character from "Adventure Time," resulting in what she called "asymmetrical chic." She spoke of sleepless nights, of inexplicable sticky substances on every surface, of the overwhelming, terrifying love that felt like "your heart is now living outside your body, screaming for goldfish crackers."
Althea listened, enthralled, laughing at the right moments. It was wholesome and normal, a stark, beautiful contrast to the weird, silent-movie vibe in the doctor's office. This was real. This was life. Sticky, chaotic, and full of frogs in purses.
Back home, she immediately scooped up a wiggling, ecstatic Sushi, who licked her face like she'd been gone for decades. "Sushi! My goodest boy! Come, you must meet your future responsibilities!" She carried him, a wriggling golden burden, to the "Table of Empire" in the living room where she had arranged her carnival winnings with the care of a museum curator. "Sushi, formal introductions. This is Rex, the T-Rex. He's your other mommy, the cool one who brings home the bacon. This is Bartholomew the Unicorn; he's fancy and judges our life choices. This is Steve the Flamingo; he's a vibe, just trying to stand on one leg and live his best life. And this," she said, pointing to the glass bowl, "is Justice the Goldfish. He is the moral compass of this household. Do not eat him. That is a crime against justice."
She then sat on the floor, cross-legged, with Sushi in her lap, and began to unload her thoughts onto her canine confidant. He was a great listener. Zero judgment, unless you stopped petting him.
"Sushi, today has been a whole rollercoaster, and not the fun carnival kind. More like the kind where the safety bar feels a little loose. Idk if that was a dream last night, but your other mommy was right there, and she was supposed to put something on my neck. Maybe it's just a trick of my amnesiac brain tryna cook something up—it's always in the kitchen making questionable stuff—but I saw it. A vial? Glass? Something shiny and medical-looking. And then I dreamed of her as a kid, and me too, and I said she would be my biggest fan. It was cute, tho! The kid Haven had glasses!! She was a whole snack. A serious little snack. And then the doctors today… they said I can be pregnant, which is yay! Big slay! But then the doctor said I'm taking too much sleepy-time juice, and they just… stopped. It's kinda weird, Sushi. It's giving me weird vibes. The vibe is off. A glitch in the matrix. Aaaaa!" She sighed, burying her face in his fur. "Maybe, Sushi, I really need to dig up my past. But the past me is terrible! She was messy and sad and probably had terrible taste in music aside from my own. It's confusing me! And I don't wanna remember some of it 'cause it hurts my small, fragile brain, Sushi. My brain is a baby bird. It can't handle the big worms of truth yet."
She spent the rest of the day like that—holding detailed, one-sided debates with Sushi about whether plants appreciated her explanations of photosynthesis ("See, it's like a glow-up, but with sunlight! You're basically doing skincare!"), having elaborate tea parties with her plushies where Bartholomew the Unicorn was a terribly rude guest, and attempting to teach Justice the Goldfish to do tricks (he was not a quick study).
Later, as the afternoon light turned golden, she pulled out the beautiful, leather-bound journal Haven had given her. It was heavy and smooth, smelling of expensive paper and promise. She uncapped a pen and began to write, her handwriting looping and chaotic.
Diary Entry #?? (I forget to number them, oops! My brain is a messy Notes app)
Today my brain downloaded a core memory: tiny Haven with glasses, agreeing to be my #1 fan. It was adorable. We were so cute. Confirmed: I've always had main character energy. Haven has always had 'intense side character who steals the show' energy.
Weird thing: A fuzzy memory of Haven leaning over me last night with something shiny. A vial? My brain glitching? Probably just her fixing my blanket or giving me a secret, loving syringe-full of rainbows and confidence. Right? RIGHT?
Doctor's appointment. Physically, I'm a boss. A temple. Mentally… the doc said my sedative levels were "spiked"? Then she and Mrs. Li did a whole silent movie scene with their eyes and she took it back. V. weird. Suspicious. But also… maybe a glitch? The system is lagging. Mrs. Li later told me stories about frog-purses, so she can't be all bad. Right?
THE BIG NEWS: Doctor gave the green light for baby-making! As long as the "environment is stable." Our environment is super stable! Right? It's all soft sweaters and dinosaur pancakes and carnivals and serotonin protocols. Very stable. No drama. I can't wait to tell Haven. We're gonna have the most iconic, powerful baby. It'll probably be born giving a PowerPoint presentation on cradle-side market trends. Its first word will be "merger."
Something feels… off sometimes. A flicker on the screen. A whisper in the static. But then I look at Haven, or I play with Sushi, or I hug my T-Rex, and it feels so right. My past is a black hole with bad reviews, but my present is so bright it needs sunglasses. Do I really need to look back? Maybe some mysteries are better left unsolved. For now, I'm just gonna focus on building this future. And maybe on getting Haven to actually sleep in my bed for a full night without checking her phone for "work stuff."
RAWR. (That means I love my life. Mostly. Probably.)
She closed the journal, the solid thump feeling final. The thoughts were out, pinned to paper like butterflies. They felt less scary now.
But the quiet of the house was getting to her. The glitch feeling was buzzing in the back of her skull. Mrs. Li was somewhere, being silently competent. Althea needed… noise. Distraction. Connection.
Well, I wanna ask Mrs. Li more… but hmm… She looked at her phone. I need a distraction. Hmm, should I call Haven? Hehehe. A mischievous grin spread across her face. If she called Haven, Mrs. Li would definitely be focusing on her then, making sure she wasn't bothering the CEO. It was a perfect plan. Chaotic good.
Lemme check if Haven is working, she thought, grabbing her phone. Her thumb hovered over Haven's contact, saved as "Wifey 🍇🦖" with a dinosaur emoji she'd added during a particularly goofy mood. She took a deep breath and pressed call, putting it on speaker so Sushi could be part of the fun.
It rang once, twice…