Chapter 4
990 Words
I didn’t go home.
Not after what happened with the nurse.
Not after the look on her face.
That look…
It wasn’t confusion.
It wasn’t ignorance.
It was hesitation.
Like she knew something—but wasn’t supposed to say it.
And that was enough.
Enough to make my chest feel tight for an entirely different reason.
“This isn’t over,” I muttered under my breath as I turned down the hallway again.
The hospital felt different now.
Not just familiar.
Not just connected.
But layered.
Like something had been hidden beneath everything I thought I understood—and now, piece by piece, it was starting to surface.
And I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.
But I couldn’t stop.
I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for.
Just… something.
Anything that could prove that what I was feeling wasn’t in my head.
That Liam wasn’t just a name attached to a donor list.
That he was real.
That he mattered.
That somehow—
He knew me.
I found myself back near the same wing.
Room 214.
My steps slowed as I approached it again.
The door was slightly open this time.
My heart reacted instantly.
Faster.
Heavier.
Like it recognized something before I did.
I swallowed.
Then pushed the door open.
The room was still empty.
But not untouched.
The bed had been stripped clean, new sheets in place. The machines were silent, neatly arranged like they had never been used.
But something felt…
Left behind.
I stepped inside slowly.
Every movement felt deliberate, like I was walking into something I wasn’t supposed to see.
“This is crazy,” I whispered.
But I kept going.
The window caught my attention first.
Rain stains along the edges.
Faint.
Almost invisible unless you were looking for them.
My breath caught slightly.
Rain.
The memory.
The car.
My chest tightened.
“Don’t,” I murmured. “Not now.”
I forced myself to look away.
Focus.
Find something real.
Something physical.
Something that didn’t disappear when I blinked.
My eyes scanned the room again.
Bed.
Cabinet.
Chair.
Nothing.
Nothing that proved anything.
Nothing that explained anything.
I exhaled slowly, frustration building.
“There has to be something,” I said quietly.
And then—
I saw it.
It was small.
Barely noticeable.
Tucked slightly under the edge of the bedside cabinet, like it had slipped there and been forgotten.
A notebook.
My heart skipped.
I moved toward it slowly, almost cautiously, like it might disappear if I got too close.
“Please still be here…” I whispered.
I crouched down and reached for it, my fingers brushing against the worn cover before pulling it fully into view.
It was old.
Not damaged—but used.
The edges slightly bent.
The kind of notebook someone carried around often.
My pulse quickened.
This was his.
It had to be.
For a moment, I just held it.
Didn’t open it.
Didn’t breathe properly.
Because something inside me already knew—
Whatever was in here…
Was going to change everything.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself.
Slowly, carefully—
I opened it.
The first few pages were normal.
Notes.
Random thoughts.
Nothing too clear.
But as I flipped further—
Something shifted.
The handwriting changed.
Not the style.
The intention.
It became more focused.
More deliberate.
More… personal.
My fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the page.
And then—
I saw it.
My name.
Emma.
Written clearly.
Undeniably.
Right there.
My breath stopped.
“No…” I whispered.
I flipped back a page.
Then forward again.
Emma.
Again.
And again.
Not just once.
Multiple times.
Like a thought he kept returning to.
Like something he couldn’t let go of.
My hands started to shake.
“This… this isn’t possible.”
But it was.
It was right there.
In ink.
In his handwriting.
Proof.
I kept reading.
And that’s when everything inside me shifted.
She was sitting by the window again today.
My heart dropped.
My eyes scanned the next line quickly.
Same spot. Same quiet look like she’s somewhere else entirely.
My chest tightened painfully.
That was me.
It had to be.
I don’t think she notices me.
My throat went dry.
But I notice her.
A sharp inhale escaped me.
“No…”
There’s something about her. I don’t know what it is yet.
My fingers trembled as I turned the page.
Maybe it’s the way she looks like she’s fighting something no one else can see.
Tears burned at the back of my eyes.
Or maybe it’s the way I feel when I see her.
My heart pounded harder.
Faster.
Unsteady.
Either way…
I swallowed.
I can’t seem to stay away.
The room felt smaller.
The air heavier.
Everything around me faded except the words in front of me.
Because now—
It wasn’t just a possibility.
It wasn’t just a feeling.
It wasn’t just a memory.
He knew me.
And suddenly—
Everything made sense in the most terrifying way possible.
The memories.
The voice.
The way he said my name.
The way it felt like I had lost something I never had.
I flipped to the next page quickly.
Desperate now.
Needing more.
Needing answers.
If anything ever happens…
My breath caught.
I hope she lives.
My heart stopped.
Just for a second.
Even if it’s not with me.
The tears slipped before I could stop them.
And in that moment—
I understood something I wasn’t ready to understand.
Something heavy.
Something irreversible.
This wasn’t coincidence.
This wasn’t random.
This wasn’t just fate.
This was choice.
And whatever happened to Liam…
It wasn’t just an accident.
My grip tightened on the notebook as a cold realization settled deep in my chest.
If he knew me…
If he was watching me…
If he wrote about me…
Then one question remained.
The one that made everything else feel small in comparison.
What really happened to him?
- Writer
