Isabella’s POV
I sit there, numb.
“You used to come in for some treatments… Quiet girl. Always kept to herself.”
That janitor’s voice keeps playing in my head, like a scratchy vinyl that refuses to be ignored.
Treatments. At this hospital. Me?
But when? Before the fire? After?
I try to remember—I try so hard my head aches—but there’s nothing—just the sound of wind rushing through hollow spaces where memories should be.
My hands tremble as I pull out my phone and redial Mia. She picks up immediately.
“Bella?” she says, already alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
“I need you to come back.”
“What happened?”
“There’s more. He recognized me, Mia. Said I used to come here for treatments.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end.
“I’m coming,” she says at last. “Stay where you are.”
The lin
