The room was quieter than it had been in days. Liam had already left, his footsteps long faded, his presence like a gust of wind that comes in warm and vanishes before you're ready.
Emma lay in the hospital bed, her hand trembling just slightly. She felt the imprint of Liam's last words still hovering in the air. He was gone. She knew it. But it felt like a part of her had gone with him.
The door creaked open.
Chloe burst in, eyes blazing. Peter followed, visibly tense.
"Are you seriously standing here acting like nothing happened?" Chloe shot at Peter. "You LEFT her. You walked away while she was collapsing in the middle of the street! What the hell, Peter?"
Peter's jaw clenched. "I made a mistake."
"A mistake? She thought you hated her. She was literally begging for you not to slap her, not to hate her!"
Emma's voice was small. "Chloe... stop."
Chloe froze, then turned to Emma. "No. He doesn't get to be forgiven that easily."
Peter stepped closer. "I know I don't. But I need to explain. Emma, when Amanda said those things, I—I let myself believe them. And that's on me. I thought I saw something I couldn't unsee."
Emma looked at him, eyes still tired but a little clearer. "So you chose to walk away."
"Yeah. I was angry, confused... and honestly? Jealous. But none of that excuses what I did. I failed you."
Emma blinked. Her throat tightened. "I needed you. More than ever."
Peter reached for her hand. "And I wasn't there. I'm sorry. But I want to be. Please... don't shut me out."
Chloe exhaled sharply but stepped back, letting Emma decide.
Emma stared at Peter's hand. She was silent for a while.
Then she took it.
Peter's shoulders dropped in relief. "Thank you."
---
The following day, Emma was discharged from the hospital. The air outside felt fresh but heavy with memories. Everything looked the same, but something had shifted inside her.
Liam was gone.
But the visions weren't.
Every night, she saw flashes—him screaming, bodies floating, blood suspended in water, his arms around her as she died. And always, always, the guilt in his eyes.
Sometimes she'd wake up with tears soaking her pillow.
Peter noticed. "Was it him again?" he asked one morning.
Emma nodded. "He burned the world for me. And I still chose you."
Peter swallowed hard. "You think you chose wrong?"
Emma looked at him for a long time. "No. But I think I broke something. In him. In me. I don't know if it'll ever be fixed."
Peter pulled her into a soft embrace. "Then let's find a new way to be whole. Together."
Being discharged from the hospital felt like escaping from a fog I didn't even know I was trapped in. The white walls, the beeping machines, the lingering smell of antiseptic—they were finally behind me. And ahead? Life. Or something that looked a lot like it.
The first week was strange. I felt... floaty. Like I was here, but not really. Chloe, on the other hand, was determined to anchor me back to Earth.
Every day she made it her personal mission to make me laugh like a lunatic. And she did. Whether it was stuffing marshmallows in her cheeks to look like a chipmunk or narrating random strangers' love stories at the café, she brought the sunshine back into my days.
Peter... was quiet at first. Careful. Like I was glass and he wasn't sure how cracked I was. But he came back. Slowly. Tenderly. Like raindrops on a dry leaf.
We spent hours together—watching movies, walking to nowhere, sitting on rooftops talking about the stars and how dumb our math teacher was. One night, Peter and I debated for ten minutes over whether a pigeon had winked at Chloe.
"It totally did," I said, almost tripping over the sidewalk from laughing too hard.
"I'm telling you, Em, it had dust in its eye!" Peter flailed his arms like that would prove his point.
Chloe snorted, "He was in love with me, clearly. You should've seen the way he strutted."
We laughed like kids again. It was healing. In its own silly way.
Then came the school trip.
A weekend getaway to the city zoo and botanical park. Technically it was about "learning biodiversity and conservation" or something—but to us, it was a chance to scream, snack, and exist outside homework.
The bus was pure chaos. Music blasting, chips flying, half the class trying to harmonize horribly while Amanda and her girls took selfies like it was Coachella.
I sat by the window, knees pulled up, my chin resting on them. Peter sat beside me, sketching something.
I leaned in. "What are you drawing?"
He quickly covered the page. "Nothing."
I snatched it from him. "Peter! Is that me… as a giraffe?"
He nodded proudly. "Tall. Curious. And a little awkward when you chew."
I gasped dramatically. "That's it. Friendship over."
Chloe peeked from the seat in front of us and cackled, "You do kinda chew like a cow sometimes. No offense."
I threw a candy wrapper at her. She caught it midair like a ninja. "Peaceful Emma, remember?" she teased.
At the zoo, I fed a deer. It was magical.
Peter got chased by an aggressive duck. That was more magical.
"Why is it FOLLOWING ME?" he screamed, zigzagging like a lunatic.
"Because you're the chosen one!" Chloe shouted, recording everything like the evil friend she is.
Later, we lay on the grass at the botanical park under this giant peepal tree. My head rested on Chloe's lap, Peter's hand was close to mine—our fingers brushing occasionally like waves meeting the shore.
"Life feels... okay again," I murmured, staring up at the rustling leaves.
Peter turned toward me. "That's because you're okay again."
I smiled faintly. "Almost. Still haunted by a dangerously hot boy with freaky powers, but yeah... getting there."
They didn't say his name. But we all thought it.
Liam.
He hadn't appeared since that day. No calls. No notes. No ghostly entrances through windows. Nothing. But I saw him—in flashes, dreams, visions where he held my dying body, eyes full of rage and love. Always protecting me. Always... watching.
But life moved on.
I started dancing again. Chloe started prepping for her debates. Peter—well, he was just being Peter. Kind, awkward, thoughtful. He even helped my mom set up garden lights one evening and ended up electrocuting himself mildly. It was adorable.
Days turned into weeks.
And now, it was a week before my birthday.
"We NEED to throw you a party," Chloe declared at lunch, slamming her sandwich down like it was a gavel.
"I hate birthday parties," I groaned, stealing Peter's fries.
"You hated hallucinations too, and look where that got you," she smirked.
Peter chuckled. "She's not wrong."
I sighed. "Fine. But nothing over the top."
"No promises," Chloe grinned like an evil genius.
I rolled my eyes and smiled.
I wasn't whole yet. Some nights I still woke up crying. I still saw Liam. Still heard his voice telling me he'd always be near. But I was healing. Laughing. Dancing.
And maybe... maybe that was enough for now.