Forever, Again

Present : Sep 23, 2023

Aliya had been dependent on nurses for even the most basic tasks. But on September 22, panic swelled in her throat as she finally managed to use the toilet on her own. Her steps were slow, her legs wobbly, and her head felt like it was still swimming. As she reached the sink, she glanced up and saw her reflection in the mirror. The sight made it hard for her to breathe.

Aliya gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white, trying to steady herself. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and forced herself to look again. It wasn't the bandage covering the cut on her forehead that shocked her; she had expected that. What unsettled her was how different she looked.

She leaned in closer, squinting at the unfamiliar face staring back at her. Her nose was thinner and sharper, a far cry from the broad nasal bridge with a straight profile she had grown up with. The new nose looked almost snub-like. Her lips were fuller, more plump than she remembered. And then there were the multiple piercings in her ears. Aliya's heart raced, and her breathing became shallow. She reached up, her fingers trembling, and touched her face, tracing the new contours of her nose and the fullness of her lips.

"This isn't me," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. Tears welled in her eyes, distorting her reflection in the mirror. Her brow furrowed as she searched for a memory, a reason for the changes, but her mind remained a blank slate. Panic clamped around her throat, making it difficult to swallow. She backed away from the mirror, her steps unsteady, and sank onto the closed toilet lid. Hugging herself tightly, she sought warmth in the cold, sterile bathroom.

The room's chill was intensified by the pristine marble tiles and soft, ambient lighting. The sink, a sleek modern design with a touchless faucet, gleamed under the lights, reflecting the clinical luxury of the space. The faint smell of antiseptic mingled with her rising fear.

A soft knock broke the silence. "Aly... Aliya..." The door creaked open, and Luke peeked in. His cheerful smile faltered at the sight of her pale face and wide, terrified eyes. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Kneeling before her, his expression softened with concern as he searched her face for answers.

"Aliya, what's wrong?" he asked gently, his voice soothing.

She looked at him, her eyes pleading for answers. "Who am I, Luke? I don't recognize myself."

Luke took her hands in his, his grip warm and reassuring. "Aliya, you had an accident. You've been through a lot. It's normal to feel disoriented."

"No," she said, shaking her head, her voice rising. "It's not just that. My face... it doesn't look like me."

He paused, seeing the turmoil in her eyes. "What do you mean?" Luke asked gently.

She looked at him, desperation mingling with confusion. "Who am I?" she repeated, her voice breaking.

Luke knelt beside her, placing a comforting hand on her knee. "You're Aliya," he said softly. "You've been a sensation for four years now, with two hit albums."

Aliya's brow furrowed, struggling to process his words. "I don't remember," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

Luke's smile was warm but sad. "It's okay," he reassured her. "You're an amazing singer, Aliya. Your voice is incredible. I'm still your biggest fan, even after dealing with your moods every day. That voice of yours is something special."

He stood up, extending a hand to her. She took it hesitantly, her fingers cold and weak in his warm, firm grip. As he pulled her to her feet, the tiled floor felt cold beneath her bare feet. Luke supported her as they made their way back to her bed.