10 a.m. Inside the hospital room, Grace slips on her long black padded jacket over a white tee and a red cardigan. The faint scent of sterilized air lingers around her as she pauses by the window, looking out at the cold winter cityscape. Gray buildings blur beneath the pale morning light, and she exhales slowly, mentally bracing herself for the day ahead.
"Grace."
Monica steps into the room, her white gown swaying slightly with each step—a temporary escape from her duties during her short break. "Are you all ready to go out?"
Grace nods, adjusting her jacket zipper.
Monica's lips curve into a small, warm smile as she studies her daughter.
"Did you take your phone?"
Grace's gaze shifts to the bedside table where the phone rests, forgotten.
"Right… my phone." She picks it up and tucks it into her pocket. "Let's go, Mom."
Monica glances down at her gown and laughs softly.
"Oh, I forgot to take this off. Wait here a minute, okay? I'll put it away in my office."
She hurries down the hallway, her footsteps fading, leaving Grace in the quiet room once more.
Grace lowers herself onto the edge of the bed and switches on her phone, but nothing happens. The black screen stares back at her. She sighs and notices a charger dangling near the wall.
Plugging the phone in, she waits as the screen flickers to life—only to reveal the password page.
"Password…?" Grace mutters, squinting at the keypad as if the numbers might magically appear in her memory.
Nothing comes.
She types in random guesses: 1234. Denied. 0987. Another rejection.
Grace groans, furrowing her brows.
"Okay… guess I should just reset." She taps the reset option without hesitation, watching as the device wipes itself clean, turning off and then restarting.
There is no panic in her expression—only a detached indifference, as though whatever she might have lost didn't really matter. She doesn't even remember what was on the phone in the first place.
The door opens again.
"Battery okay now?" Monica asks, stepping inside, her gown now replaced with a neat cardigan.
"No, it was dead, so I just charged it." Grace looks up from the glowing screen, a faint shrug in her voice.
"I see." Monica's voice softens, though there's a trace of hesitation beneath it. "So… you remember the password now? I tried checking while you were in the coma, but I couldn't. Obviously, I didn't know your password."
Grace shakes her head, her expression calm, almost detached.
"I didn't remember it either, so I just reset it."
Monica blinks, startled, her eyes widening.
"You… just reset it?"
"Yeah." Grace's tone is matter-of-fact, almost casual. "I can't buy a new phone. I don't remember any passwords, so I can't get in anyway."
For a moment, Monica just studies her daughter, her lips pressed into a thin line. Slowly, she nods.
"Well… okay. But all your contacts, your pictures, your—"
She stops mid-sentence, the doctor's words echoing in her mind.
"It's better not to push. Don't force memories on her; let them return naturally. Anything forced could trigger something worse."
The weight of that advice sinks in again, and Monica, who is both mother and doctor, exhales quietly. She lets the worry slip from her face, replacing it with a soft smile.
"Okay, no big deal. You can fill your contacts again later."
She reaches out, brushing an invisible wrinkle from Grace's jacket sleeve before stepping toward the door.
"Come on, honey. Let's get going."
Grace rises from the bed, slipping the phone into her pocket without a second thought, and follows her mother out of the room.
In the car, Monica drives with steady hands, the heater humming softly, while Grace sits in the passenger seat, gazing out at the cold winter city. Bare trees line the streets like brittle silhouettes, and patches of snow cling stubbornly to the curbs.
"Mom," Grace says quietly, her eyes still on the passing view.
"Yes?" Monica keeps her focus on the road, glancing at the rearview mirror out of habit.
"This street feels… kind of familiar."
At the next light, which turns red, Monica slows the car to a stop and turns her head slightly toward her daughter.
"You remember this street?"
Grace doesn't look back; her gaze lingers on the shops and crosswalk outside. She nods faintly.
"It just… feels like I've been here really recently."
"You were in the hospital most recently." Monica's voice is warm but measured. "Still, it's good you're starting to feel familiar with the city again."
Grace tilts her head, resting her temple against the cold glass of the window.
"Is there something important I forgot?" she asks, eyes shifting toward her mother as the car starts moving again.
Monica fixes her gaze ahead, her expression tightening slightly before softening again.
"Well…" she says slowly, "there are lots of important things you forgot. But I'd rather let you recall them on your own, in time. Do you really want to know everything now?"
Grace hesitates, fingers tracing the zipper of her jacket. A faint dizziness swirls in her head at the thought, and her chest tightens. Something in her gut tells her she isn't ready.
"No… that's okay," she murmurs. "I'll just leave it to time."
"That's good."
Monica offers a small, approving nod, though her eyes remain on the road.
Grace shifts slightly, watching the buildings pass by.
"But one thing," she says, voice more insistent now. "What was I doing before I went into a coma? Like… What was my job?"
A short laugh escapes Monica, gentle and almost relieved by the simplicity of the question.
"You really don't remember anything, huh? Well, you were a graduate student."
Grace blinks, letting the answer settle, then nods slowly.
"I see… So I stopped in the middle of the semester?"
"Right. But it's okay. The school granted you a medical leave—you can return whenever you want."
Grace exhales softly, looking out at the pale horizon.
"I was asleep for, like, a month, right? That's what you told me."
"Yes, indeed, my daughter." Monica's lips curve into a faint smile, but her eyes are fixed firmly on the road ahead.
Grace turns her head, studying her mother quietly as the car glides through the winter streets.
"Mom, after we get home and rest, I want to visit the school campus I was attending. Tonight."
Monica glances at her daughter, one eyebrow slightly raised.
"I don't think you're in any condition to restart graduate school right now. The semester's already started, too."
Grace shakes her head.
"No, it's not about classes. I just… feel like if I go to where I spent most of my time, maybe I'll remember something. Something I've forgotten."
Monica's hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel, her eyes focused on the road ahead. She listens, then nods slowly.
"You're right. That might help you…"
But inside, her thoughts stir uneasily.
Julian might be there… teaching, walking between buildings, doing his usual late work. I haven't even told him she woke up. Not yet. I don't even know when or how I should tell him… maybe after she remembers something, anything. Hopefully soon…
Monica takes a quiet breath and gives a small smile, concealing her worry.
"Well, how about tomorrow evening instead? That'll give you a little more time to rest."
Grace watches her mother carefully, but only nods.
"Okay. Tomorrow evening, then."
Grace and Monica step into the house, the faint warmth of heated air wrapping around them as they take off their shoes. Grace lingers at the entryway, her gaze sweeping over the space with quiet curiosity, as though every corner might hold a memory waiting to surface.
Monica gestures down the hall.
"Honey, that's your room."
Grace nods slowly and walks toward it, each step deliberate.
She opens the door and is met with a cozy view that feels almost welcoming despite her blank memory: a simple desk by the window, a large pane of glass looking out at the winter city, and light curtains billowing gently with the cold breeze from the cracked window. The bed sits neatly made, a soft lamp standing sentry on the nightstand. It isn't a big room, but the warmth of it settles into her like a soft sigh.
Grace slips off her long padded black jacket, draping it over the back of the chair, and sits down. Her eyes roam over the desk—books stacked neatly, a laptop resting on top like it has been waiting for her.
She flips the laptop open. The screen glows to life, demanding a password.
"Of course," she mutters, lips curling into a wry smile. "I don't remember the password."
Without hesitation, she clicks through to reset it.
That's me, she thinks with a faint shrug, always a little too quick on things.
The laptop begins to reboot, and Grace leans back in the chair, letting her body sink into its familiar contour. Her eyes close, and she inhales deeply, a surprising sense of calm wrapping around her.
"So this really is my room," she whispers to herself. "I guess it has to be… I feel so comfortable here."