The kind doctors wear with their coats during long shifts in cold hallways and night rounds. Something normal, something ordinary, something every doctor at the hospital probably owns and suddenly the memory of that moment in the drawer twists painfully inside my chest.
I got it wrong.
All of it.
Every accusation, every assumption, every moment I thought Dominic was hiding evidence. My fingers tremble at my sides. The rain runs down my face but I barely feel it anymore because another terrifying thought settles into place.
If the scarf wasn’t Sophie’s…
Then the thing I believed proved Dominic was guilty, was never proof at all. A strange numbness spreads through my body. Not relief, not peace…Just emptiness.
Because the more the truth reveals itself…
The less I understand about my own life.
Dominic’s voice pulls me back. “I knew Era wasn’t the one standing in front of me anymore.” His voice lowers. “I knew it was you.” My stomach twists. “Sera.”
The name feels different now. Heavy and real.
“The moment you dyed your hair,” Dominic continues slowly, “I knew something had changed.” His jaw tightens. “I knew you were splitting again.”
My breathing becomes uneven.
“And when you asked me about the locked drawer… that’s when I knew you didn’t remember anything.” His eyes search my face. “You didn’t remember Marcus.” The name hits something deep inside my chest.
“Marcus was your psychiatrist, Sera,” Dominic says quietly. “He treated you a year ago.” My head spins. “He helped you when this started happening before.”
Dominic exhales slowly.
“I told him everything that happened… before we all met again.” He swallows. “He wanted to see for himself. Just to be sure.”
And suddenly, something clicks in my mind.
The park.
Marcus.
Running into him while I was walking and his strange concern. The way he spoke to me like he already knew me. Offering help. Watching me carefully. It wasn’t an accident, he was checking on me.
Confirming whether I recognized him. Confirming whether I was Era…
or Sera.
The memory cracks open inside my head.
A flash. Marcus sitting across from me in a quiet office. His voice calm, professional and gentle.
“Do you remember where you are right now?” he asks. Silence. “Do you remember what your name is?”
I’m sitting there. Blonde hair falling past my shoulders, staring at the wall. Completely still. No emotion, no reaction…Just emptiness.
Marcus watches me carefully. Writing something in a notebook. Observing, waiting. Trying to see who he’s talking to.
Another flash crashes in. A bathroom mirror. The hum of fluorescent lights above me. My hands gripping a box of black hair dye. My reflection staring back at me.
Blonde hair.
But the person in the mirror doesn’t look alive. My eyes are empty. Like there’s a space between me and the reflection staring back. A void. Liketwo people standing on opposite sides of a glass wall. My hands move slowly. Almost mechanically. The dye spreads through the blonde strands. Turning them darker.