Chapter 2: Natalie’s Truth Bombs

I woke up to see my best friend, Natalie Evans, looking worried.

She hovered at my bedside, phone in hand, dark hair yanked into a rushed ponytail. The fluorescent lights overhead washed out her skin, but the concern in her eyes was sharp as ever.

She told me not to be sad.

Natalie plopped down at the edge of my hospital bed, squeezing my hand. "C'mon, Jess, you know you always land on your feet."

She fixed me with that determined look—chin up, eyes bright, like her words alone could will me back to normal. "You get to call the shots now, Jess. Divorce or not, you deserve a good life."

It was comforting, even if my mind was still spinning, untethered.

She added, "The kids won't have such a great time with Derek, either. You don't need to keep fighting the custody battle. Besides, you can't win."

Her voice softened, gentling the blow. I could see her struggle—wanting to protect me, but needing to keep me grounded in reality. Bitterness colored her words, sharp as over-steeped tea. My hands clenched the scratchy hospital blanket, overwhelmed.

I was stunned. After a long while, I couldn't help but ask, "Who's Derek Pierce?"

Natalie’s mouth fell open. She blinked twice, like she was buffering. Then she snapped out of it, scrambling to call the doctor.

The doctor explained I had amnesia from the car accident. Natalie, anxious, leaned in and asked, "Jess, how old are you?"

I wracked my brain. "Eighteen? Didn't I just finish the SATs yesterday?"

Natalie burst out laughing, squatting down, clutching her stomach and pounding the bed with her fist. "Jess, you’re something else! Your amnesia is just perfect. Yes, you’re eighteen. Eighteen is great—no Derek, no kids... just the two of us..."

She wiped at her eyes, still grinning. The whole room felt lighter for a second. I grew even more confused.