With analyzing eyes, Diana watched as her parents walked forward. She studied them as they took her in, gazes running over her frame like it was a statue to ogle at. Her father's dress shoes clacked out of rhythm with the heel of her mother's flats.

Tears brimmed their eyes. Shaking hands mirrored each other. They didn't flinch at the long scar that ran from the bottom of her right earlobe to the edge of her left jaw bone like she'd expected them to. Dr. Nayyar must've told them not to, she surmised. 

Her mother bit at her rosy lips, like always. Diana suddenly remembered the time, she'd bit almost all the skin off her lips at Phoebe's high school graduation, waiting desperately and finally for her name to be called. 

Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun held together by a black hair clip with a couple pieces that fell out at the back of her hair. They framed her caramel eyes and green turtleneck.

Her father's bushy moustache moved as he spoke, "Hi, honey." A distorted reflection of herself played in her father's square glasses. He still wore his thin beige jacket from work that wrinkled as they hugged. His fingers shook as they wrapped around her. He still wore the same cologne of evergreen trees. The smell always reminded her of when he'd take her, Phoebe and Henry out for camping trips in the middle of the forest for weekends at a time.

She melted into the hug. He held her tight with blanched knuckles as though she might slip from between his fingers and disappear through the tiled floor. 

He still wore the jacket after so many years, her father was a volunteer mechanic. He'd retired as a Master Chief Petty Officer just after she'd started working for the company.

"Hi, dad." She replied, smiling weakly. The world still felt shaky. A beat of silence passed between the family. He looked older.

"I-" Her father was about to speak but the words got caught in his throat. He waved the words away.

Turning to her mother, she could see the worry lines lining her aging skin as her mother stared at her like she wasn't really here. Like it was all an elaborate hallucination or prank. But then her eyebrows hardened. "You're looking too skinny. I'm going to get you some food from the cafeteria okay, 宝贝?"

Diana nodded, "Okay, mama.", watching as her mother scurried from the room to hall. Her father moved to the window, lacing his fingers together.

He stared down at the passing cars, like little ants moving pieces of food too large for them towards their queen. They were in blurry cars and were blurry frames as they passed the roads that surrounded the hospital.

More beats of silence. Neither of them knew what to say, what to do. How do you say, welcome back! I thought you were dead, after all this time?

Her mother came back with a couple containers of miscellaneous food. Chicken fingers, fries and a cup of fruit. She'd even brought her a ginger ale.

Diana couldn't remember the last time she'd tasted fruit. The look of it was more vibrant than she remembered. Peeling back the plastic to the cup she gazed on it.

There was mango in the cup. Mango was one of her favourite foods. Diana sighed as she ate it. Mango always reminded her of summer, hot days where she used to spend every waking minute reading and practicing her favourite languages.

The ginger ale was uncomfortable as it slid down her throat, too loud. The fizz made her feel like coughing. But, Diana kept eating despite the disagreeable texture.

Her father cleared his throat as he sat in the armchair diagonal from her bed. "The doctor said you would talk about...what happened with them. When you want to talk about it, I'm here." He turned towards her mother, "Both me and your mother." The reference gripped her by the throat, choking all the air from her sharp lungs. She could feel invisible glass scratching her throat.

Gulping, she shoved down the feeling of water in her lungs, "Thanks dad, but I can't talk about it. "His face fell, the stubble around his chin became pronounced, "Not yet at least."

Diana could feel her mother's wide eyes on her as she watched the interaction. Diana could almost hear her father's face wrinkling with questions.

He wasn't going to give up asking. None of them were.

Ignoring their faces, she scarfed down the food, despite the overwhelming urge to throw it all back up. But she saw the relief on her parents' faces as she did.

And so, Diana kept eating.

"I brought you a bag of things you'll need." Her mother dropped a large blue bag with her university logo on it. Diana had almost forgotten that she worked there.

Her mother began to rattle off some things in the bag, "Toothbrush, pants, pillow, blanket...."

Like her dad, the words were ensnared in her throat. There were no words to describe how much she'd missed them. How much she'd longed to see them once again.

She'd missed her mother's acts of service and her father's quality time, the way they made her feel safe. Like the world could crack and crumble away at the seams but she'd be okay.

At that moment Diana wanted to hug them once more, but she stopped herself.

And still, despite the overwhelming water in her lungs, Diana Winters did not cry.