Where Have You Gone

Chapter 3️⃣9️⃣

The morning air was crisp, carrying a faint scent of hospital-grade sanitizer as Becky stepped out of the car, Anne’s small hand tucked tightly into hers.

Richie circled around the hood, lifting Anne’s duffel bag from the trunk. His voice was steady but low, betraying the nerves he was trying to mask. “Room 512. Cardiology wing. They’re expecting her.”

Anne skipped beside Becky, her tiny fingers swinging their joined hands. “Are you excited to see my angel, do you think she will be good?”

Becky smiled softly. “I’m sure she will be, sweetheart. Doctors who fix hearts must have kind ones too.”

The automatic doors whooshed open with a sigh, welcoming them into the cool, hushed lobby. Becky’s cane tapped gently against the tiled floor as they made their way to the reception desk.

A nurse greeted them kindly. “You must be little Anne. We’ve got you all set up. Dr. Freen will meet you upstairs once you’re settled in.”

Becky’s fingers tightened around Anne’s hand instinctively.

Dr. Freen.

The name meant nothing to her—just another doctor in a long line of specialists, consultants, surgeons who wore white coats and carried heavy decisions in their pockets.

“Thank you,” Becky said quietly.

An orderly arrived with a wheelchair for Anne, who climbed in cheerfully, giggling as she adjusted the seat.

Becky leaned down, brushing Anne’s curls back from her forehead. “I’ll be right behind you, okay?”

Anne nodded seriously. “Okay, Bec.”

Richie gave Becky a reassuring touch on the shoulder before following the orderly. Becky, relying on the soft sound of their footsteps, moved after them with careful grace.

Elevators hummed, conversations floated in and out of earshot. Becky tuned in to Anne’s laughter, grounding herself in it.

When they reached the room, the nurse helped Anne onto the bed, chatting brightly about the procedure scheduled for tomorrow. Becky stood nearby, one hand on the edge of the nightstand, tracing its shape unconsciously, grounding herself.

The door swung open behind her.

She didn’t turn.

She didn’t have to.

The air shifted—like a shadow crossing the sun—and something deep inside her stirred. The smell, the same smell she felt on the elevator.

Footsteps, deliberate and soft, approached.

“Hello, Anne,” a voice said—low, calm, and achingly familiar. “It's nice to see you again”

Becky’s breath caught sharply.

Freen.

It was impossible. Her mind raced—she must be imagining it. The name. The voice. A trick of memory. A cruel hope.

She turned slightly, focusing all her senses on the speaker.

Freen continued, speaking to Anne with gentle ease, explaining what would happen in the next few days. Becky listened intently, piecing together the timbre, the inflection, the careful kindness laced in every word.

It couldn’t be.

It couldn’t be.

Yet every instinct screamed that it was.

Freen finally turned to her. “And you must be Becky.”

The sound of her own name wrapped in that voice was too much.

Becky nodded, her throat tightening. “Yes.”

For a second, silence hovered.

Then Freen extended her hand and said carefully, “It’s an honor to meet you.”

Becky offered a polite smile, realized Freen was waiting for a hand shake when Richie poked her right hand.

Becky could feel Freen taking her hand and gave a firm shake. She tried to feel the hand as soon as possible, she clearly don't want Freen to think that Becky is a creep.

But those hands were nothing like the one she remembers. Not the baby soft hands these are firm.

Her mind tricked her in the worst way possible.

Not Sam. Freen. She kept repeating herself. Unfortunately that didn't give unheard. Freen clearly heard every word.

She pressed harder to steady herself. Freen gently removed her hand.

Freen didn’t push. She only said, “Anne’s in good hands. I promise.”

And Becky believed her—because whatever else had changed, the truth inside that voice had not.

She didn’t know yet how or why.

Didn’t know about the letters.

Didn’t know about the hand that had been reaching out to her awhile ago.

But deep inside, something shifted.

Some door, long closed, creaked on its hinges.

Anne chatted excitedly about her new rhymes, friends and school.

Becky barely heard her.

She stood in the center of a world that had just tilted on its axis.

Somewhere, somehow everything she thought she knew was about to change.