Ethan's POV
I jolt awake, disoriented, to the fussing of another nurse adjusting my IV. The stark fluorescent lights above sting my eyes, but I focus on the figure entering the room. It's my mother, her expression calmer now compared to the last two times I woke up. She moves swiftly, wrapping me in a hug as though I'm still a child.
"Everything will be fine," she murmurs. Her words are soft, soothing, but I can't help feeling irritated. I'm a doctor, for god's sake. Shouldn't I be the one reassuring her?
Before I can respond, James strolls in. He's been my best friend since we were kids, and his presence is a comfort, though he masks it behind his usual bravado. "Damn, man! You had us all shaken!" He pats me gently on the back, his attempt at levity falling flat.
I push him away playfully. "Everything gets you shaking in your boots," I quip.
We laugh, but the humor doesn't last. His face grows serious, his gaze flickering to my mom before he falls silent. There's something unspoken, lingering in the air. I don't press him, lacking the strength to untangle their cryptic exchanges.
We banter a bit longer before James has to leave. My mother follows him out, leaving me alone again. Solitude isn't as peaceful as it once was. The silence amplifies the nagging void in my chest, a feeling I can't quite name.
When I try to focus on it, to dig deeper, my skull feels like it's being split in two. The pain is blinding, a pounding reminder to stop prying into whatever's hidden in the recesses of my mind. My mom blames it on the accident—says the impact must've jarred more than just my body. Maybe she's right.
But I can't shake the sense that something vital is missing. And when the headaches stop, I'll figure out what it is.