Was this Death?
Moon's mind reeled with a thousand questions as she floated in an almost weightless state. The sensation of levitating was disorienting—her body felt both heavy and light at the same time. The last thing she had seen before everything went dark was the stranger with the cold, emotionless eyes. Had he witnessed her fall? Had her body collided with the ground as his wedding cake shattered? The thought gnawed at her.
She became aware of a soft touch at her neck. A pulse check. Fingers, delicate and practiced, felt for her heartbeat. The warmth of the hands, though gentle, sent a shiver through her skin. Slowly, as if waking from the depths of a deep slumber, her senses returned.
She inhaled deeply, her lungs filling with the scent of herbs and something medicinal—a blend of salves, tinctures, and antiseptics. It felt like a momentous return to life, a second chance. But what had happened?
Her fingers twitched against the softness of what felt like a mattress—though this wasn't her bed. The sheets beneath her were smoother, cleaner, more refined than the worn, threadbare fabric she was used to. The bed was too pristine, too luxurious. This wasn't her home. Where was she?
"She finally looks to be conscious," a voice rang out, loud and clear, as though someone had spoken directly into her ear.
Moon's head felt heavy. She wanted to open her eyes, but they seemed as if they were made of lead. Her eyelids refused to lift, as though they had been sewn shut with exhaustion.
"Can she hear us?" The voice was louder this time, more insistent.
"If she can move her fingers, then probably, yeah," another voice answered, softer and more familiar. Moon could tell it belonged to a man. She didn't recognize either voice, but they weren't unkind. They didn't sound threatening.
Moon summoned all her energy, forcing her dry, cracked throat to speak. "Water," she whispered, her voice barely audible, rough as sandpaper. Her mouth felt like the desert, parched and aching.
"Just a moment, sweetheart." The man's voice was gentle, but there was a nervous tremor under the calm facade.
After what felt like hours, a cool, smooth glass was pressed to her lips, and she drank greedily. The water was a balm to her throat, bringing her back from the brink. She blinked, and finally, the haze lifted enough for her to open her eyes.
Light flooded her vision, bright and overwhelming at first. Slowly, it adjusted to a clearer scene. A man, blonde-haired and strikingly handsome, loomed over her. His bright emerald eyes studied her with a mixture of relief and something that bordered on fascination. He wore a doctor's uniform, a crisp white coat that contrasted sharply with the warmth of his features.
"Well, little girl," he said, his voice warm, almost affectionate, "You're finally awake."
His words felt like a strange, comforting embrace, though his chuckle betrayed the tension he was holding back. The soft dimples on his cheeks deepened as he smiled, his face lighting up with the joy of seeing her conscious. "This is a miracle indeed," he added, his tone softer, almost reverent.
Moon barely registered his words, her eyes scanning his name tag: Dr. Alexander. She muttered it under her breath, as though trying to imprint it into her memory.
"Yes, sweetheart, that's my name." He chuckled again, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. "Your fever's finally gone down." His voice carried a subtle note of pride, as though he had personally won a hard-fought battle.
The haze of confusion in her mind was lifting, and she remembered the terrifying truth. She frantically looked around the room.
"Whoa, whoa, there's no need to panic," Dr. Alexander said quickly, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. "It took me a month to get you to open your eyes. Ugh, how hard that was..."
Moon's face drained of color. Her breath hitched as the words sank in. "A month?" she repeated, her voice cracking.
The doctor's face faltered. His expression darkened, and there was a hesitant pause before he spoke again.
"Right. Sorry, I should've said something earlier, but you've been unconscious for a whole month."
The word month echoed in her head like a hammer. A month? No, that couldn't be true. She couldn't have been lying in some hospital bed for that long.
"Where is Gracelyn?" she demanded, her voice weak but filled with a sense of urgency. "Where is my mother? And my father?"
The room grew quiet. Dr. Alexander's face darkened further, his eyes turning unreadable. A man who had been standing in the corner, short and skinny with a beard, shifted uneasily. He looked fragile, like the wind could knock him over.
"Maybe we should give her some space, don't you think, Alex?" he spoke, his voice soft but firm.
"No," Dr. Alexander said, his tone becoming more serious, almost grim. "We need to tell her."
Moon's pulse quickened as she felt a deep dread sink in. Tell me what? she thought, but she couldn't bring herself to ask the question.
The older man took a step forward, sighing deeply. "This is going to be a lot to take in. Are you sure you want to hear it all?" His voice softened, like he was trying to cushion the blow.
"Yes!" she cried, her voice hoarse, desperate. "Please, tell me!"
Dr. Alexander hesitated, glancing at the other man before taking her hand. "Your sister, Gracelyn, brought you here. She paid for all your treatments. She was very generous." He paused, watching her carefully, trying to gauge how she was taking the news.
"Generous?" Moon muttered, confused. Where would Gracelyn get the money for that? Her mind was reeling, struggling to process.
Dr. Alexander continued, his voice steady. "She told us everything. About your mother's sudden illness, and about your father..."
Moon's breath caught in her throat. Her mind whirled, her heart pounding. "My father?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Dr. Alexander's gaze dropped, and his lips tightened. "I'm sorry, but your father passed away. He couldn't fight the illness anymore."
Moon's eyes filled with tears, her chest tightening with the unbearable weight of grief. She tried to form words, but they didn't come. Her father—her strong, steady father—was gone. She couldn't process it.
"When did this happen? Where is Gracelyn? Where is my mother?"
The doctor shifted uncomfortably, his hands clasped in front of him. "The last time Gracelyn was here was when she brought you in. I think… I think you were unconscious longer than we thought, Moon. Gracelyn hasn't visited since."
"What about my mother? Is she okay?"
The older man shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Moon, but we don't have any information on your mother. I believe she... she may have..." His voice trailed off, and it was clear what he meant. Moon felt her chest tighten, the weight of the unspoken truth suffocating her.
Her mother, Navara, was likely gone too.
Tears spilled down her cheeks in torrents. She covered her face with her hands, her sobs loud and uncontrollable. The room seemed to close in around her. The pain, the loss—it was all too much to bear.
"What now?" she choked out through her sobs.
Dr. Alexander looked at the older man, who sighed deeply. "I'm afraid if you have no guardians... well, we can't leave you by yourself." He paused, his words heavy. "We've arranged for you to be sent to an orphanage, Moon. Once you're back on your feet, that's where you'll go."
The weight of his words hit her like a tidal wave. Her family was gone, and she was alone.
She felt hollow. She couldn't even bring herself to cry anymore.
The thought of Gracelyn, her sister—was it possible that she had sold her gold jewelry to pay for Moon's treatment? She had saved it for an emergency. And now, Moon would never see her again. Would she ever have the chance to thank her sister for everything?