The call with Ember's parents had just ended. Dylan stood by the window, shadows of Haliçis flickering across his face as the city lights danced on the ancient walls outside. The conversation with her mother still echoed in his mind—anxious, tearful, filled with fear and love.
"Take care of my daughter," her mother had whispered, her voice trembling through the phone. "She's all I have."
Dylan's grip tightened around the device before he set it down, his jaw clenched. He turned to the bed where Ember lay, lost in the haze of her sleep. Her face was peaceful, but there was a fragility to her slumber that stirred something deep in him—a fierce, unshakable need to protect her.
Without a sound, Dylan crossed the room and slipped into the bed beside her. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, but Ember didn't stir. Her long lashes brushed her cheeks, and a soft sigh escaped her lips.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her gently into his embrace as if shielding her from the ghosts that haunted the night. His voice was a low whisper, barely audible. "You're safe now, Ember... I won't let anyone hurt you."
His hand brushed a lock of hair from her face as he studied her expression. There was something magnetic about her presence, something that called to him beyond logic or time. Dylan pressed his forehead to hers, his heart thudding in rhythm with hers. He couldn't help but smile faintly. "Even when you're asleep, you drive me crazy, Sunshine."
Outside, Haliçis pulsed with mystery, its old stone streets echoing with secrets. But here, wrapped in the warmth of her body, Dylan finally allowed himself to close his eyes.
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On the other side of the city, deep in the cold glow of Blue City's sterile lights, Ember's parents rushed through the hospital corridors, their footsteps echoing with urgency and dread. The scent of antiseptic filled the air, sharp and unforgiving. They didn't speak, didn't need to—grief and fear hung between them like an invisible thread.
As they entered the room where Ember had been admitted, the door creaked softly. Inside, Dr. Zayne stood near the monitors, reviewing her vitals, his expression unreadable. He turned to greet them with a nod.
"Mr. and Mrs. khan" he said solemnly.
Ember's father, his face carved with tension, stepped forward. "Can we talk?" he asked quietly, motioning toward the hallway.
Understanding the weight behind the words, Dr. Zayne followed him outside, leaving Ember's mother alone by her daughter's bedside.
The door clicked shut.
For a moment, Ember's mother just stood there—frozen, breath caught in her throat—as her eyes fell upon her daughter. Ember lay motionless beneath pale blue sheets, her skin marred by bruises, cuts, and shadows of pain. She looked so small… so fragile.
A trembling hand rose to her lips as a broken sob escaped. Her knees gave way, and she collapsed into the chair beside the bed. Her fingers reached out, brushing against Ember's. They were cold.
"My baby… my sweet girl," she whispered, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her cheeks. She clutched Ember's hand tightly, desperately, as though willing her soul back into her body.
"You're so strong… you always have been. But I'm here now. I won't leave you—not ever. Please… please, Ember… wake up."
A single tear slipped from Ember's closed eyes, but her mother couldn't see it.
The machines beeped rhythmically, the only answer in the stillness of the room.
Meanwhile, just outside Ember's hospital room, her father stood face-to-face with Dr. Zayne in the quiet corridor. The sterile hallway felt colder than before, like it too was holding its breath.
"Do you know Dylan?" her father asked suddenly, his voice low and edged with something unreadable.
Zayne paused, startled. For a moment, his mask of calm slipped. I didn't expect him to reach out to them this soon… but maybe that's good—for Ember, he thought to himself. He nodded slowly.
"Yes, uncle… I know him."
Her father's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're aware he's her boyfriend?"
Zayne hesitated. "Did he tell you that?"
"No," her father replied with quiet certainty. "But I can hear it in his voice—the way he speaks about her. He tries to carry every injury like it's his own fault. Like he's shielding her, taking the blame for everything. Isn't he?"
Zayne exhaled deeply, unsure how much to say. There were too many secrets circling Ember's world now, too many truths that barely fit into logic.
"I don't know everything myself," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
"When did you find out about him?" her father pressed.
"When I examined Ember's belongings in her room," Zayne explained. "I found his number. I called him, thinking he might have answers... and he did. He told me everything. Every strange thing that's been happening to her—the dreams, the blackouts, the… his world."
Her father's brow furrowed. "And you believed him?"
Zayne looked him in the eye. "Uncle, I've been researching these incidents for years. There's a book—a case like Ember's, a long time ago. So, to me, it's not a miracle. But knowing it's happening to Ember?" His voice dropped. "That part still shocks me."
There was a long silence between them, the weight of the truth too heavy to process all at once. The air was thick with uncertainty, fear, and something darker—something they couldn't name yet.
Then, his father's voice softened, pain etching itself into each word. "How is she, Zayne? How's Ember doing?"
Zayne's voice gentled, his gaze drifting to the closed door behind them. "She's stable… for now. But we'll know more once she wakes up. She's strong. She's fighting."
Back in the room, Ember's mother continued to sit by her daughter's side, unaware of the quiet storm brewing outside that door. She held Ember's bruised hand against her heart, whispering softly through tears.
"Please, sweetheart… come back to us."
A sudden cry shattered the silence.
"Ishaan! Ember's awake—come inside!" her mother called out, voice trembling with a mixture of hope and disbelief.
Her father burst into the room behind her, breathless, eyes wide with urgency. Ember blinked slowly, her vision swimming in a sea of blurs. Everything was hazy—her swollen eyes burned from crying, and the world around her seemed to pulse like a distant dream.
She squinted, trying to focus. A shadow moved in front of her. Instinctively, Ember lifted her hand to rub her eyes, but a gentle hand caught hers midair.
"Ember, it's me—Zayne," he said softly, kneeling beside her. "Can you see me?"
Ember's voice was weak, barely above a whisper. "A little... it's blurry."
Zayne offered a calming smile. "It's okay. Don't rub them. I'll apply some drops—it'll help."
She gave a tiny nod. He moved with care, applying the cooling drops with practiced precision. A few minutes passed in silence before Ember's vision began to sharpen. Slowly, shapes turned to faces—and then she saw them.
Her parents stood near her bedside, eyes wide, tears glistening. They looked at her like she was something sacred, something they feared they'd almost lost.
Their daughter. Their everything.
When Ember glanced at them, something cracked inside her. the pain—it all crashed down like a wave. Tears welled in her eyes and fell freely, as though her body had no strength left to hold anything in.
Her mother rushed to her, wrapping her in trembling arms. "Shh, my baby… I'm here. I'm right here."
They didn't ask questions. Not yet. They simply held her—letting her cry, letting her come back to herself. They were waiting for her to speak when she was ready. And they would wait as long as it took.
After a while, once her sobs faded to quiet sniffles and her heartbeat settled, Zayne stepped closer.
"Ember," he said gently, "how are you feeling? Any pain?"
She shook her head softly. "No… not really."
Zayne nodded, eyes scanning her vitals. "Do you think you can try standing? Just a few steps?"
Ember hesitated, but then whispered, "Okay." She tried to rise, her feet touching the floor like they didn't belong to her. Her legs trembled as she took one step… then another.
But the pain hit her like a storm. It was sharp, searing—her knees buckled.
She let out a soft gasp as her body swayed, about to fall—but Zayne was already there, arms catching her before she hit the ground.
"Easy, Ember. I've got you." He lifted her effortlessly and carried her back to the bed. "What happened? Are you okay?"
Tears of frustration welled in her eyes again. "My legs… they're not helping me. I can't. It hurts too much."
Zayne frowned and tucked the blanket around her with the care of an friend may be . "Alright. I'll run a few tests right away. Just hang in there."
He left the room briefly, to submit her report . After returning , He faced her parents, his voice calm but serious.
"The tests will take until tomorrow to be fully processed. Ember needs to stay hospitalized until we understand what's going on with her legs. But for now, her vitals are stable."
Her parents exchanged a look, then nodded. "We'll do whatever it takes," her father said. "Just make sure she gets better."
Evening settled gently over the city of Haliçis, its golden light casting long shadows across the hospital room. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant—cold and sterile—but something warm slipped in with Ember's mother as she stepped inside, carrying a small container wrapped in a kitchen towel.
Homemade food.
She placed it on the side table beside Ember's bed. Ember stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open as the scent reached her. It was her favorite—the dish her mother always made when she needed comfort. The first bite made her eyes well up with tears she didn't even understand. Her mother simply smiled and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
After dinner and a dose of medication, sleep claimed Ember once again, her fragile body sinking deeper into the mattress, her breathing soft and rhythmic.
Her mother sat by her bedside, brushing a hand over Ember's forehead. She didn't want to leave. Not yet.
But Zayne stepped in quietly, a clipboard in one hand, a warm blanket in the other.
"Aunty," he said gently, "I'll stay the night. I've got the night shift anyway, and… I want to be here. Just in case."
Her mother looked at him, hesitating. She saw the kindness in his eyes, the protective way he looked at Ember—like he would shield her from the world if he could.
"Alright," she whispered, "but call us the moment something changes."
Zayne nodded. "I promise."
As her parents walked out of the hospital and into the evening air, silence lingered between them for a while, broken only by the sounds of the city.
Then her mother spoke softly, "I don't even know what to say to Zayne. He's such a sweet boy… always looking after Ember like she's his own ."
She paused, her voice growing even more tender. "And that other boy… Dylan. There's something about him too. The way he talk about her… like she was the only thing keeping him breathing. Ember's lucky to have both of them in her life. I just hope—" she swallowed her emotion—"I hope she finds the one who truly sees her heart."
Her father's response was quiet but firm. "In the end… it'll be her choice. And we'll stand by whoever she chooses."
Her mother smiled faintly. "Yeah… you're right."
When they finally returned home, the warmth of familiarity did little to soothe the ache in their hearts. They lay side by side in bed, but neither could sleep.
Her mother turned toward her husband, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Why her? Why did our daughter have to suffer something so terrible?"
Her voice cracked as her heart did. "Please, God… give her strength to overcome the memories."
He held her close, his arms wrapped around her like a promise. Slowly, her trembling eased, and eventually, sleep took her—though peace would take much longer to arrive.