"Chloe," the voice called again, hesitant but tinged with hope.
The woman stepped closer into the dim light of the docks, a random passerby who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Chloe's sharp gaze landed on her, and for a brief moment, confusion crossed her face.
"Do I know you?" Chloe asked, her voice cold and distant.
The woman shook her head, nervously clutching the strap of her bag. "N-No. I was just walking through. You looked lost, so I thought…"
"You thought what?" Chloe's tone turned sharper, more defensive. She stepped forward, her body tense, radiating an energy that made the stranger take a step back.
"I just wanted to help," the woman stammered, her eyes wide.
"I don't need help," Chloe snapped. "I've had enough people 'helping' me." Her fists clenched at her sides as flashes of memory flickered in her mind—doctors hovering over her, the sterile smell of hospital rooms, the feeling of being powerless.
