faeni

Following a horrific car accident, Adeline Moore awakens from a months-long coma with no memory of her life, her identity, or the family who insists they love her. As she struggles to make sense of the fragments around her, she's met with an unsettling reality—her fiancé, Luke, is cold and distant, and her younger sister, Hazel, seems far too close to him.

As flashes of memory return—snippets of arguments, uneasy emotions, and inexplicable grief—Adeline begins to uncover the truth: Luke and Hazel were having an affair even before the crash. Shattered by the betrayal, she’s dealt a second blow when her family rallies around Hazel, dismissing Adeline’s pain and blaming her for not being “the same” since waking up.

Isolated and unsure of who she used to be, Adeline makes a bold decision—she doesn’t want her old life back. She wants truth. She wants freedom. She wants to start over. With quiet resolve and growing clarity, she begins to rebuild her life—this time, on her own terms, and far from those who broke her.

The Second Life of Adeline Moore

Adeline's hands trembled slightly as she unwrapped the new bandage from her side, exposing the healing burn beneath. The skin was taut, raw—pink in places that had once been smooth. The nurse had told her it would fade. Eventually. But no one had warned her how long it would take before she could look at it without wincing.

She stared into the mirror above the hospital sink, her heartbeat just a little too fast. The face that met her gaze was still hers—only altered. She wasn't sure if anyone else would see the difference yet. The dark shadows under her eyes. The tightened line of her mouth. The way memory lingered like soot in the corners of her expression.

A knock came from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Just a moment," she called, quickly redressing the wound.

When she opened the door, Elias was already there, standing near the window with his back to her. He always arrived in the silence—never with questions, never overstaying. Only just enough.

She cleared her throat. "Didn't expect you today."

"I figured you'd be sick of hospital food." He nodded toward a small bag on the table. "Soup. From that place you like."

She smiled faintly. "You remembered."

"I tend to remember things I probably shouldn't," he said, matter-of-fact.

She eased herself down onto the edge of the bed, careful with her movements. Still bruised. Still mending. Still tucking the scar beneath her dress like a quiet failure.

Elias moved to the table and began unwrapping the food, not looking at her as he spoke again.

She didn't answer right away. When she did, her voice was barely a whisper.

"They said it might never go away."

He paused, soup container still in his hand. "The doctors?"

She nodded. "I can't stop thinking about it. Not just the fire—everything. And now this." She glanced down at her hands. "It's stupid, I know. After all that, I'm fixated on skin."

"It's not stupid," Elias said quietly.

He was watching her now—expression unreadable as always, but something in his eyes had softened.

"You think I didn't notice?" she whispered. "You haven't touched a surface since you walked in. You stand just far enough not to brush against anything. But you're still here."

His jaw tightened slightly. "Some habits take longer to break than others."

She gave a weak smile. "And some scars stay longer than they're welcome."

"Maybe," he said. "But not all of them get to define us."

She lowered her eyes again—but this time, there was no shame in the motion. Just a quiet, settled kind of acceptance.

"You didn't flinch," she said suddenly.

"When I came out. When I moved. I know you saw the bandage."

Then he said, softly, "I saw you."

The soup sat untouched on the table, cooling slowly.

Beneath the Bandages