Darkness. Then light.

He blinked. Shapes resolved around him: the sterile white ceiling, the hum of machines, the faint scent of antiseptic. His head felt heavy, his thoughts like water trying to flow through a narrow channel. When he shifted slightly, he saw her—a girl, sitting in a chair beside his bed, arms folded on the edge, head resting on her arms, asleep. Sunlight spilled through the open window, stirring stray strands of hair that fell across her face.

She stirred. The light caught her eyes as they opened, wide and startled, and for a moment, he felt warmth radiate from her gaze. She moved toward him, words forming on her lips, gestures frantic and trembling. Her arms reached for him in a hug, and he could sense the urgency in her calls, the fear edged with relief. Nurses appeared as if summoned by the invisible tension between them.

And then it hit him. The hollowness behind his eyes, the sudden panic that he could not place.

He tried to speak, but his voice felt alien. "Who... are you?"

The smile faded from her lips, and he could see her hesitate, searching his face for recognition that wasn't there. She said something quietly, softly—he could hear her explain who she was, how she had found him, what she had hoped he might remember—but the words were filtered through a haze of confusion. He only caught fragments, like whispers from another room.

He shook his head slowly. No.

Her expression tightened, a shadow passing over her features. She seemed to pull back slightly, perhaps unsure if she should stay or leave, but the concern in her eyes never faltered.

"What... happened?" he asked, voice barely more than a croak. His hands trembled as he tried to grip the edges of the bed, trying to anchor himself to something solid in a world that felt suddenly unsteady.