The Unexpected.

The next three days passed in a strange, dreamlike rhythm—a blur of pain, warm soup, laughter through gritted teeth, and whispered stories shared under the hum of the hospital lights. My body refused to cooperate—stiff, aching, and useless. I couldn't even sit up without help. But my heart? It was learning to beat again, surrounded by the people who stayed.

Liam took it upon himself to become my full-time nurse, security guard, emotional bodyguard, and soup-warmer all in one. He brought me clothes from home, set up a mini shelf of books and snacks next to the bed, and even argued with the nurses if my medications were late.

Every morning, he barged into the room like a grumpy tornado. "Morning, patient zero. Time for your world-famous, highly nutritious, gourmet hospital soup. Straight from the five-star cafeteria downstairs."

It was literally the worst soup ever, but I always smiled. It tasted like soggy cardboard and sadness, but the way he tried to garnish it with leftover crackers and crumpled parsley made it feel like a banquet.

Peter, Chloe, and Edward came right after school ended every single day, arms full of things I didn't even know I missed: Peter brought mystery books, Chloe brought weird candies from the school vending machine, and Edward—being Edward—snuck in a Bluetooth speaker and blasted Taylor Swift during visiting hours.

"Seriously?" I had groaned.

"You need emotional healing," he said dramatically. "And nothing heals faster than T-Swizzle's 'All Too Well.'"

They all took turns feeding me when my hands shook too much. Chloe was the gentlest—she cut everything into tiny bites and told me random facts about animals as she did.

"Did you know octopuses have three hearts?" she said, spooning warm mashed potatoes into my mouth.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Wish I had three right now. One for the betrayal, one for the pain, and one for your horrible fun facts."

Peter sat with me for hours at night, sometimes saying nothing, just watching me sleep or reading out loud from the books. He always picked the darkest corners of the room to sit in, like his shadows wanted to protect me. He rarely smiled now—his worry showed in every glance.

On the second night, I woke up from a nightmare and found him holding my hand. He didn't say anything, just squeezed it tight and stayed. That was Peter's way of saying, "I'm here. You're not alone."

Liam refused to leave the hospital unless someone else took a shift. He even brought his laptop and worked from the little window bench. Once, I caught him dozing off with his head bent backward and his mouth open. I took a photo. Chloe framed it the next day.

"You're ALL traitors," Liam growled, but his smile gave him away.

My mom visited between her police shifts. She always came in her uniform, looking tired but trying to be strong. She cried the first night when she thought I was asleep, whispering something like, "My baby girl… why does it have to be you?"

I pretended not to hear. But her hand on my head made me feel live again. Safe. Loved. Even when the world was crumbling.

We didn't talk about Nathan much, but he stayed like a ghost in the background of every conversation. Like a shadow at the edge of the light.

One evening, Edward said, "So, when are we throwing hands with traitor boy? Asking for a friend."

Liam muttered, "Let's not murder anyone until she can walk again."

"Wow," Chloe said. "Progress. You're actually putting Emma's mobility above your homicidal plans."

I laughed so hard I choked on my soup.

They were idiots.

But they were my idiots.

And even though I couldn't move, even though my world had shattered, they were helping me piece it back together—one spoonful, one joke, one late-night story at a time.

Three weeks had passed. Three long, quiet, healing weeks.

I had practically made that hospital bed my kingdom. Peter, Chloe, and Edward were like clockwork—feeding me soup, telling me stories from school, laughing at how Edward almost slipped in front of a teacher, or how Chloe accidentally submitted her chemistry test with a doodle of a sheep on it instead of her name. I'd giggle weakly at their jokes, unable to move too much, my body still a war zone from inside. My veins still felt sore, like wires short-circuited too long. My muscles twitched without warning. And my head... oh, the constant throb like a drumbeat I couldn't turn off.

But Liam. Liam was there more than anyone.

He brought me homemade food when he could. He smuggled in my favorite shampoo so I wouldn't feel "like a washed-up onion" as he called it. He fed me soup, spoon by spoon, scolding me if I tried to do it myself.

"Don't act smart, you're not in a Marvel movie. You literally collapsed mid-spell like a broken kite," he'd say, rolling his eyes, though his voice was always gentle.

He'd tell me stories about his office, about how his colleague kept calling him "Mr. Coffee Spill" because he somehow managed to drop his cup every Monday. Or how his employees were convinced he had a crush on the HR girl just because he complimented her hair once.

"You definitely do have a crush though," I teased once, trying to lift my neck to look at him.

He paused, then smirked, "The only girl I have energy to handle right now is the one bleeding magic from her eyeballs."

I laughed—genuinely. It had been days since I laughed like that.

Finally, three weeks later, I was discharged.

My body still felt stiff, and pain came in waves, but I could walk slowly. Everyone thought I was going back home to rest. But it had already been decided—Liam and I were going to his place. For now, just to have someone around in case anything happened. And he'd be staying in my room, which was a whole other secret. Not even Peter or Chloe knew that.

I was tired. Tired of secrets. Tired of fear. I just wanted a night of peace. And maybe—just maybe—I could have that.

That night, I lay on my bed, wrapped in Liam's oversized hoodie that he'd thrown at me with a, "Here. You're always cold anyway, frost queen." He sat at the edge of my bed, scrolling through something on his phone, eyes half-glazed.

The room was dim, the warm yellow lights hugging the shelves and corners. I liked it. For the first time in weeks, I actually felt... safe.

"Hey," he said, without looking up, "What if you dyed your hair purple?"

"What?"

"I dunno. You already act like a rebel witch. Might as well complete the look."

I snorted. "Then people will really start calling me cursed."

He finally looked up. "You are cursed. But you also survived it. That's the difference."

I smiled. That made me feel better. I didn't know why.

He reached out and tugged a strand of my hair. "You'll be okay. You're tougher than you think."

His words wrapped around me like a blanket. My chest swelled—not from fear this time, but something warmer. Calmer. He didn't say much, but when he did, it felt like it mattered.

I leaned back on the pillow and closed my eyes for a second.

Then—

"Oh, darling… missed me?"

My eyes snapped open.

No. No, no, no.

Her voice was inside my head.

Amelia.

My heart stopped. I couldn't breathe.

"I just gave you your precious three weeks of recovery, didn't I? How sweet of me, right? But did you really think that would be enough to hold me back? That spell of yours gave me a few scars, sure. But I heal, Emma. And unlike you, I heal stronger."

I sat up, panicked.

Liam noticed instantly. "What happened? What's wrong?"

I couldn't answer. My lips trembled. I couldn't speak.

"Sad for you. You gave me pain. Now, I'll give it back to you. You'll feel every piece of your soul tear—exactly like I did."

Suddenly—

AGONY.

My veins felt like they were burning. Like liquid fire running under my skin. I screamed.

"Emma?! EMMA!" Liam caught me as I started collapsing forward. My eyes… my eyes were bleeding.

The pain was blinding. Crushing. Terrifying.

I clawed at my chest, my mouth gasping but no air filling my lungs. I could feel my blood vessels bursting inside, one by one, like fireworks of pain.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP! CALL THE DOCTOR!" Liam shouted, shaking me.

"I—she's—Amelia—she's—back—" I croaked before blacking out.

The last thing I heard was Liam's voice cracking as he whispered, "I've got you. Stay with me. Please, stay with me, Emma."