Page 261 of Before We Were

A mechanical beeping slices through the dream-haze, as steady and insistent as a heartbeat. I clamp my hands over my ears, desperate to hold onto this moment like water cupped in trembling palms.

"What is that noise?"

"That's life calling you back, Leni." His eyes shimmer with something deeper than mere tears.

"But I don't want to leave you." The truth spills from my lips as my chest constricts. "Everything hurts out there."

"Feeling pain means you're still alive. Still fighting." His presence wraps around me like summer sunshine. "And you've always been a fighter, Leni."

"What if I'm not strong enough this time?"

"Look around you." He gestures to where our memories play like intimate home movies. "Every moment here is proof of your strength. Every smile, every tear, every time you got back up when life knocked you down."

"I don't want to lose you. Not again."

"Oh, sweetheart." His laugh is warm honey and childhood summers. "I never left you. I'm in every book you read, every story you write, every moment you choose to be brave."

"Dad—"

"Nora, sometimes we get second chances not just for ourselves, but for all the people who need us in their story."

The beeping grows more insistent, pulling at the edges of this dream-world.

"It's time, isn't it?" I ask, my heart swelling in my chest while beating fast at the same time.

He nods, reaching out to almost touch my cheek.

"Don't wait for the storm to pass."

"Learn to dance in the rain." I add with a smile. "You always said that."

"And you always listened." His smile brightens. “Go. Live. Choose happiness even when it's hard. Your story isn't over yet my littlest love—it's just beginning."

The room dissolves, but his final words follow me back to consciousness:

Sometimes we get second chances not just for ourselves, but for all the people who need us in their story.

Reality rushes back like the tide returning to shore, but this time I'm ready for it. Ready to write the next chapter, ready to discover what second chances taste like.

Ready to live.

The shuffleof papers draws me from darkness. A man stands in my room, his white coat catching the harsh fluorescent light that's replaced the earlier sunlight. Night has fallen, though time has become fluid—days and nights bleeding together until I've lost count. Every movement sends lightning bolts of pain through my body, and the hospital blanket feels like sandpaper against my raw nerves.

"Hi Nora, I'm Dr. Aldridge, the neurologist overseeing your care." He hovers at my bedside, clipboard in hand, studying me with eyes that have witnessed both miracles and tragedies.

"I'm sure you have questions. If you're comfortable, I can walk you through your injuries and the treatment you've received over these past three weeks. Would that work for you?"

I manage a silent nod.

I've been drifting through consciousness like a boat without anchor, reality and dreams tangling together until they're indistinguishable. Sometimes Dad visits, bringing croissants from our favorite bakery back home. In those moments, I almost believe he's still alive, until logic whispers that no one drives three hours for pastries. Then darkness claims me again, and I wake to an empty room and the hollow echo of loss.

My fingers find the 'fearless' bracelet, twisting it like a lifeline.

"Sure," I whisper.

Dr. Aldridge watches my eyes track across the room, his gaze clinical but kind.

"You've been through quite an ordeal, young lady." His words land like pebbles in still water. "When you arrived, you had sustained severe traumatic injuries—four broken ribs, a broken pelvic bone, and significant brain swelling from the impact."

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