Her eyes opened a few minutes ago.

She's been blinking against the lights for a while, her gaze unfocused and distant.

I wait, impatiently, until she shows a sign of real consciousness. Open eyes don't immediately mean that she's conscious.

Eventually, I can't take it anymore, though. "Sage," I whisper, squeezing her hand.

Her head turns slightly. There's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, but it dissolves into confusion. "Thomas?" She murmurs, her voice weak and hoarse.

Thank the freaking lord for not involving me in the memory loss thing.

"Hi," I greet quietly. "You're safe now."

Her head turns away from me again. She does her best to look around, even with the medical collar blocking her from moving much. "Where am I?" She asks, the anxiety in her voice clear.

"You're in the hospital. A lot happened, but you're going to be okay."

She frowns. Both frustration and fear fill her eyes. "I... I don't remember."

I squeeze her hand a little tighter. "It's okay. The doctors said you might have some memory issues, but it should come back to you soon."

She nods, though her expression remains unsure.

"How are you feeling?"

"My head feels... foggy. I can't quite think straight," Sage whispers. "And my throat hurts. Really, really hurts." Her eyes fall back on me, shining with tears now. "It hurts, Thomas."

"I know." I scoot closer as I brush a tear off her cheek. "There's nothing I can do about it, I'm sorry. The doctors will give you medication soon. Try not to talk too much."

She nods, and stares at the ceiling again. I wipe away every tear that falls. "I'm scared," she whispers. "I don't know why."

"There is no longer anything to be scared of," I assure. "Everyone is safe and okay."

"Who... who did this?" She manages. "To me?"

"Eh." I'm not sure what to say now. Do I give her the shock of her life while she's barely doing alright? Do I lie and give her that shock later on? There's a possibility that she won't remember what happened until one of us tells her. "Aris."

"My friend Aris?"

"Yes," I admit.

"Aris... what's his last name?" She asks. "I need to make sure it's— it's the same Aris." And her eyes are on me once again. Big in guilt. "I don't even know my friend's last name."

"It's okay. It's okay. Just... go rest," I stammer, running my hand through her hair. "I'll tell a nurse you woke up."

☯︎︎

A few days later, Sage is back home, sitting on the edge of the bed, in the middle of familiar things that probably feel strange for her.

I'm with her, helping her get back to the old routine, but every step feels like an enormous effort, even if it's just a simple thing.

"I can't read very well," she says. Her voice is now louder, but it's still hoarse. It'll remain hoarse for a while, the nurses said.

"That's okay," I reply. "Is it because you really just can't understand the letters, or how does it feel?"

"I can understand the letters. I can also read a few sentences. But then I lose concentration even though I do want to read," she explains.

"We'll work on that. And, as I said, everything will eventually be okay again. You're regained some memories, haven't you?"

She nods firmly.

"I can read it to you?"

She nods again, grateful.

"Which book do you want me to read to you?"

"Do I have a favorite?"

I pick up the one I wished to never see again. "This one has been your favorite for a long time."

"I don't remember what it's about. What's it about?"

"We'll have to read to find out." I help her sit fully on the bed instead of on the edge and prop her leg up on a pillow. Then I sit down next to her to begin reading.

I can tell her mind has drifted off by the time I turn the first page, but I keep reading.

☯︎︎

"Viviette." Dahlia looks at her daughter as she softly speaks to her— softer than I have ever heard her speak. "What do you want to drink during dinner?"

Dahlia must be carrying an unexplainable amount of guilt with her.

All she wanted was for her family to be safe. She had no one to tell about the Aris thing and she was too afraid to call the police on him, just like I was afraid to do it a few days ago, thinking that if Aris heard them come, he'd hold a gun to Sage's head or something.

So I understand why she did it. Of course it wasn't the best thing to do, but hey, neither was the thing Teresa did, but I've also silently forgiven her. Who knows how many people would have done the same thing?

She's being interviewed a lot, by the way. That's all I've heard, and all I know.

"What's my favorite drink?" Sage asks me.

"During dinner, it's just water," I tell her.

Sage turns back to her mother. "Water, please."

"Got it." Dahlia turns to Finn. "What about you?"

"Water's fine. Thanks, Mom."

After she has asked me and her husband, she looks around to ask her other son, only to find out he's absent; he's upstairs.

Oliver gets up to tell him dinner is ready and that I'm eating with them tonight. When he returns, he says Minho will be there in a minute.

And indeed. Once the pasta is on the table and Dahlia is giving everyone a few scoops on their plate, Minho is also sitting. He holds up his plate when it's his turn. It gets filled with spaghetti.

Then he gets up with the plate in his hand, and cutlery in the other hand.

Without another word, Minho vanishes upstairs.

He has made it very clear he will hold onto his words about not forgiving his mother. Nasty glares, not talking to her, ignoring her when she tries to tell him something... I almost feel bad for Dahlia, even though I understand both sides.

I wouldn't forgive the one who killed Sage. Ever.

The one who killed Evie is not Dahlia, though, and yet she's the one Minho reacts against.

I glance over at Dahlia, who remains completely silent the whole dinner. Her eyes are full of hurt, one hand frustratedly in her dark hair as she uses the other one to eat, and her brows scrunched.

After the dinner, I focus on Sage and Sage only again. She has learned how to use crutches and whenever she has to get up and down the stairs, I just carry her. Before dinner, she insisted she wanted to learn how to walk up the stairs on her own, so I guess that's what we're going to do.

"Ready?" I ask once we've settled in front of the stairs.

She looks at it, at me, and back at it. "No," she peeps.

"Okay, then we won't do it," I say joyfully. Now I can keep carrying her. "What now?"

"Can we watch a movie?"

"Of course." In a second, I've scooped her up in my arms and have carried her onto her bed. We no longer have to struggle with the rotation system, as Aris is long gone.

I'm not sure what will happen when the police finds out that Dahlia helped Aris. I think they won't arrest her because she was being threatened, but I don't know.

I don't dare to ask Sage if she already remembers what happened between her and Aris while I was with Gally. She seems happy enough right now. I don't want to ruin that.

I have a guess, though; he was obsessed with her. Simple but terrible as it is.

"Are we still going to Greece?" She suddenly asks.

Excitement fills me the second she mentions it. Greece has been on my mind at least once everyday since I booked it.

"Yeah, obviously. I can't wait for March."

Some kind of giggle leaves her. "And my birthday is in the middle of it, isn't it?"

"Yup."

"But your birthday first! Fifteen more days."

"Mhm."

"What do you want me to give you? Obviously you'll get some clothes, et cetera, but what else?"

"Please. I don't need anything else. You being alive right now is literally enough."

"No. I need to give you a lot of presents, but more valuable ones. Jewelry?"

"You don't have to buy anything—"

"Shh, Thomas." She gives me a soft push. "I mean it! I need decent presents."

"You should worry about yourself first," I tell her sternly. "You still haven't fully recovered and that goes first."

"Making gifts for you will heal me."

"Sure, sure."

"I swear," she adds. "You're the reason I get up in the morning, even with all the pain in my body, and you make me not want to give up. You keep my head up without knowing you do."

I stare at her for a while, slowly taking her words in. You're the reason I get up in the morning. A smile starts to break through, so big that it hurts my cheekbones. "Really?"

"Yes, of course." With a low wince in pain, she moves her head so she can kiss me, deep and one hundred percent better than the New Year's kiss.

I press my hand against the back of her head, pulling her close, maybe a little too needy because she winces again. "Sorry," I mutter.

"In Greece, I'll be healed, and you can kiss me all the time," she laughs. "Though I believe that if we keep going like this, I'll be healed tomorrow morning."

I scoff.

"Hey, things like that actually exist!" She defends, crossing her arms. "Search it up. It's called Nepenthe."

"I don't believe in the voodoo things."

"It's not voodoo. It's a literal word. Means a person or thing that can aid in forgetting your pain and suffering."

"So I'm your Nepenthe?"

"Haven't I made that clear?"

I chuckle. "Okay, if you say so. And then you're my Nepenthe. Probably have been since I was born."

"No, because whenever I tried to calm you down after you scraped your knees, you only started crying harder."

"Because... I felt very loved!" I quickly say, and it's probably a lie.

"Okay, then, Thomas."

"Okay, then, Sage."