Voices dragged Naomi back first.

Then light.

Then pain.

A sharp, splitting ache pressed behind her eyes as she blinked slowly into focus.

White ceiling.

Hospital room.

Shit.

She tried to sit up immediately.

Bad idea.

Dizziness hit her like a wave, forcing her back down.

“Easy,” Elias said.

He was sitting beside the bed.

Still in yesterday’s clothes. Hair slightly disheveled. Eyes heavy with exhaustion he wasn’t trying to hide.

But he was there.

That mattered.

Naomi frowned.

“How long was I out?”

“Few hours.”

Her stomach tightened instantly.

“My phone.”

“Naomi—”

“My fucking phone.”

A pause.

Then Elias handed it over.

Reluctant.

The moment she unlocked it, the screen flooded with notifications.

News alerts. Trending hashtags. Edited clips. Conspiracy threads already building a story around her collapse.

One headline was already exploding:

ACTRESS HOSPITALIZED DURING MISSING PERSON INVESTIGATION

Naomi stared at it.

Then slowly lowered the phone.

“This is a nightmare.”

A doctor entered.

Middle-aged. Calm. Controlled.

The kind of calm that usually meant bad news had already been decided.

Naomi immediately didn’t trust him.

“Ms. Reyes,” he said gently. “We ran some tests after your collapse.”

Elias sat up straighter.

The room felt smaller.

The doctor continued.

“There are some neurological findings we need to discuss.”

Naomi’s chest tightened.

“Neurological… what?”

He chose his words carefully.

“Your scans show inflammation in parts of your nervous system. Combined with your symptoms, it is consistent with a condition called multiple sclerosis.”

Silence.

The word didn’t land immediately.

Multiple sclerosis.

Naomi blinked.

Once.

Then again.

Her brain tried to reject it before it could settle.

“No,” she said instantly.

The doctor didn’t react.

That calm was the worst part.

“Multiple sclerosis,” he continued gently, “or MS, is a condition where the immune system mistakenly attacks the protective covering of nerves. It can disrupt how signals travel between your brain and body. That can explain symptoms like numbness, weakness, vision issues, and episodes of fatigue or collapse.”

Naomi shook her head slightly.

“That’s not—no. That’s not me.”

Elias stayed silent.

The doctor added, “We’ll need further testing to confirm, but your current symptoms strongly suggest a relapsing-remitting form.”

Naomi let out a broken laugh.

“Of course it does.”

Her hands curled into the bedsheet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Nobody spoke.

Because nobody was kidding.

And for the first time in days, Naomi didn’t know which part of her life was collapsing faster—her body, or everything built on top of it.