“Miss T, the car is waiting for us. Let’s go.”

Rebeca’s voice came from outside the room, distant yet insistent.

“Wait… I’ll be out in a minute,” Luna replied from the washroom.

The door clicked shut behind her. The silence felt heavy—unnatural.

She changed slowly, her fingers trembling as they brushed against unfamiliar fabric. When she was done, she lifted her head and faced the mirror.

And screamed.

The sound tore through the room like shattered glass.

The woman staring back at her was a stranger.

Her eyes were older. Her face sharper. Her body… different. Not the body she remembered. Not the girl she knew.

“What happened to my face?” Her voice cracked.

“My body… my face… why do I look like this?”

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she stumbled backward.

Outside, hurried footsteps.

The door shook violently.

“Miss T! Is everything alright?” Teresa’s voice trembled with panic.

“Why are you screaming? Please open the door!”

Luna forced herself forward and unlocked it.

The door flew open.

“Teresa…” Her voice barely held together. “Why do I look like this? My face, my body, my hair—everything is different.”

Teresa studied her carefully, then softened.

“Relax, Miss T.” She smiled gently. “You’ve been in a coma for a long time. Anyone would look a little different. But to me… you’re still the same.”

“No.” Luna shook her head violently. “You don’t understand. I don’t look like someone who slept for months. I look like someone who slept for years.”

She swallowed hard.

“Which month is it?”

“July.”

Her heart skipped.

“Then it’s been ten months, not six. But even then… this doesn’t make sense.” Her hands trembled as she gestured to herself.

“Look at me. I look… older. More mature. Like time carved itself into my body.”

Teresa laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“Miss T, you’re overthinking. Maybe you gained a little weight while sleeping. But it’s only been six months. The accident happened in December.”

December?

Her chest tightened.

That night was my birthday… and it was August.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze.

“So you’re saying this is July 2012?”

Teresa frowned. “No…”

“Then it should be 2013.”

“No, Miss T.” Teresa’s voice dropped.

“It’s 2022.”

The room tilted.

Luna laughed—a thin, hollow sound.

“You’re joking, right?”

Teresa shook her head.

The world collapsed.

Luna’s knees gave way and she fell to the floor, clutching her head as if trying to hold herself together.

Ten years.

Her body began to shake.

Ten years since that night.

“Oh no…” her lips whispered.

“Alex…”

Her eyes filled with terror.

Where are you? Where can I find you now?

Hope sparked suddenly—fragile but fierce.

Maybe Teresa knows.

Maybe Malcolm is Alex.

Maybe he changed his name… just like I did.

It doesn’t make sense that I would marry someone else.

It just doesn’t.

Her mind spiraled—questions without answers, memories without faces.

She forced herself to breathe.

“Teresa,” she asked carefully, “do you know where Alex is?”

Teresa blinked. “Alex? No, Miss T. I don’t know anyone by that name. But Madam will. She knows everything.”

No.

They can’t know I remember.

She masked her fear.

“Do you have Malcolm’s picture?” she asked casually. “Can I see him?”

Teresa smiled knowingly.

“You’ll meet him soon enough. I can see you’re eager.”

She gestured toward the door.

“Come. Everyone is waiting.”

....................................................................................

The Car

The door shut with a soft thud.

The world outside blurred past the window, but Luna saw nothing.

She needed answers.

She needed Alex.

Only one person could know.

Maria Coelho.

Mom.

“Hey… Mom,” she said lightly, forcing calm into her voice.

“I was trying to remember things. A name came to me. Do you know this person?”

Maria’s eyes lit up instantly.

“That’s wonderful, sweetheart! It means you’re healing. Tell me—whose name?”

Luna hesitated.

“Alex.”

The color drained from Maria’s face.

For a split second, fear flickered—raw and undeniable.

Then it vanished.

“No,” she said coldly. “There is no one named Alex in our lives.”

Luna’s heart pounded.

She’s lying.

“Look, honey,” Maria softened, reaching for her hand.

“Let’s get you home. Once you’re settled, we’ll talk. I’ll answer everything. But don’t stress yourself now.”

So I was right.

She does know.

I just have to wait.

......................................................................................

Elsewhere

Malcolm: “Is she really awake?” Malcolm’s voice trembled over the phone.

Dr Robert:“Yes. I discharged her myself.”

Malcolm:“Is she alright? Stable? Can she walk? Does she—”

Dr Robert:“She’s fine physically, but—”

Malcolm:“But what?”

A pause.

Dr Robert:“She lost her memories. All of them. And mentally… she’s fragile. The accident damaged more than her body.

I don’t know if she’ll ever remember.”

Silence.

Malcolm: Then—

“Get the best psychiatrist in the country.” Malcolm’s voice hardened.

“My Tiara deserves nothing less.”

“I’ll also arrange a physical therapist.”

Robert sighed.

“Malcolm… be with her. Create new memories. Even if she never remembers the past—it’s okay.”

Malcolm closed his eyes.

“Thank you.” he whispered.

......................................................................................

At Coelho Villa

The villa was unusually quiet.

Too quiet.

Maria stood by the tall window, the phone pressed tightly against her ear. Outside, the evening light bled into the garden, long shadows stretching across the marble floor like silent witnesses.

“Hello, Doctor Pao. This is Maria Coelho speaking.”

“Yes, Mrs. Coelho. How can I help you?”

Maria took a breath, steadying herself.

“As I informed you earlier, Tiara has come out of her coma. We brought her home.”

Her voice lowered.

“She doesn’t remember anything. Not the accident… not us.”

A pause.

“Hmm…” Doctor Pao murmured. “She may be suffering from post-traumatic amnesia. We’ll need to observe her for a few more days before deciding on the next steps.”

“I understand, Doctor,” Maria said quickly.

“But there’s something else.”

Her fingers tightened around the phone.

“She remembers Alex.”

Silence crackled on the line.

“She hasn’t said how much or what exactly she remembers about him,” Maria continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But she asked who he was.”

Another pause—longer this time.

“Do you think I should start giving her sedatives?”

“No.” Doctor Pao’s reply was immediate, firm.

“I strongly advise against that, Mrs. Coelho. She has only just come out of a coma. Sedatives at this stage could be dangerous.”

Maria exhaled slowly.

“For now,” she continued, “you’ll have to delay the truth. Make excuses. If necessary… make something up.”

Maria’s eyes drifted toward the staircase.

“You need to see how much she actually remembers. Pushing her now could do more harm than good.”

“Alright, Doctor,” Maria said quietly.

“Call me anytime if you notice anything unusual. We’ll handle this carefully.”

The line went dead.

Maria lowered the phone and stood there, unmoving.

Somewhere upstairs, Tiara was awake.

And the past—buried for ten long years—was beginning to stir.