Evelyn's voice cuts through the silence of the hospital room like a thread sewing together broken fabric.
"I'm your mother," she says softly.
The girl sitting on the bed blinks in confusion, eyes wide and searching. Her body tenses at the words, trying to align them with the emptiness inside her mind.
Calen and Adrian stand a step behind Evelyn, stunned into stillness.
The girl's lips part slowly. "Mom…? You're my mother?" Her voice trembles with disbelief.
Evelyn nods with warmth, her face calm, composed, even if her heartbeat betrays her. "Yes, sweetheart. You were in an accident. You were badly hurt. It's why… you don't remember anything."
The girl's gaze lowers as if trying to connect invisible dots in her head. "Is that why everything feels so… blank?"
"Yes," Evelyn replies gently. "You lost your memory after hitting your head. You've changed, baby… but you're safe now."
The girl slowly lifts her eyes again. "Then… who are they?" She looks at Adrian and Calen with visible hesitation.
Evelyn glances back with a soft smile. "That's your father," she says, pointing to Adrian.
"And he?" The girl's gaze moves to Calen.
"That's your older brother," Evelyn replies without skipping a beat.
The girl looks between them. "I… I have a brother too?" she whispers.
A small, surprised smile flickers on her lips.
"Yes, you do," Evelyn nods. "We've missed you so much."
The girl lowers her eyes again and gently chuckles under her breath. "Really?"
Evelyn reaches forward and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Really."
For a moment, the air in the room feels like it's holding its breath — pretending this lie is true.
But outside the girl's sight, Calen's jaw tightens. Adrian's brow furrows. Their silence is louder than the heartbeat monitor in the room.
Moments later, Adrian clears his throat. "Evelyn… can we talk for a second?"
She nods and gently pats the girl's hand before rising. "I'll be back soon, alright?"
The girl nods obediently.
The three of them step out of the room, letting the door click shut behind them.
The second they're alone in the hallway, Calen turns to Evelyn, voice sharp but hushed. "Why did you say that, Mom?"
Adrian steps in beside him. "We don't even know who she is."
Calen's eyes blaze. "We don't know her name, her past — she could be anyone. Tomorrow what if her real family shows up? What then?"
Evelyn remains calm, but her voice is edged with something deeper. "And what if they don't?"
Adrian crosses his arms. "You don't know that either."
"She woke up with no one beside her. No memories. No name. No one has come looking," Evelyn says, her voice growing steadier with every word. "If we walk away now, what future does she have?"
Calen frowns. "But it's not just about walking away. This isn't just kindness. You told her you were her mother, that we're her family. That's not just care… it's identity."
Evelyn turns to him. "And what if we gave her one?"
Adrian's eyes narrow. "You mean… adopt her?"
"Yes," Evelyn says without hesitation. "We have everything — a home, a name, and the heart to love her. What more is needed?"
Calen steps forward. "This isn't about money, Mom. I'm not arguing that. I'm saying — what if we're creating something she'll suffer from later? What if she remembers everything one day?"
Evelyn turns her head toward the room door, her voice softer now.
"And what if she never does?"
Neither Adrian nor Calen responds.
Then Evelyn turns back to them and says, with firm resolve, "So what if we don't know her name? Then we'll give her one."
Calen steps forward, his voice tight. "What's going on, Mom? Why are you talking like she belongs to us?"
His eyes shift from Evelyn to Adrian, waiting for an answer — for logic in a moment that feels wildly emotional and reckless.
Evelyn doesn't respond immediately. Her eyes, instead, turn toward Adrian — and in that gaze is something heavy. Deep. A sadness that has never truly faded.
Adrian sees it. He understands it even before she speaks.
Evelyn's voice is low, trembling as she confesses, "When I look at that girl… I see her. Our daughter."
Adrian's chest tightens.
"If only we hadn't gone out that day," Evelyn whispers, tears welling. "If we had just stayed home… our daughter would still be alive. She would have been her age today. Maybe she would've looked just like her…"
Her voice breaks.
Adrian turns his face away slightly, blinking back the sting in his own eyes. His lips part, but no words come out. He looks down for a long moment, then exhales deeply.
Finally, he nods, voice low and accepting. "Alright. Do what your heart wants."
Calen's brows knit in confusion, looking between them. "Wait. What are you both talking about? What do you mean — our daughter? What daughter?"
He laughs a little, uneasily. "You're saying… I have a sister now? Since when?"
No one answers.
The hallway falls silent again, except for Calen's unsettled breath as he looks at his parents, unable to understand the grief and the secret they've carried for years — one now reborn in the face of a nameless girl.
"Yes… it happened," Evelyn says, her voice heavy with the truth she's carried too long. "You know about that accident… don't you?"
Calen nods slowly. "Yeah, I do. And because of that… Damien wants revenge."
Evelyn's eyes cloud over as she nods. "Yes. And you were four years old when it happened. Your six-month-old sister… she was in that car too."
Calen's expression stills.
"She burned alive in that blast," Evelyn whispers. "I watched it all. I couldn't do anything."
She takes a shaky breath. "I suffered… so much. Your father, he always wanted a daughter. He used to say — no matter how many sons we have, I want at least one girl to call my own. That was her. He adored her."
Adrian stays silent, visibly holding back the emotion rising in his chest.
Evelyn's voice turns firm. "After the blast, when we took you to the hospital, the doctors said you were mentally disturbed. They warned us — don't mention the explosion. Don't mention your sister. Don't bring up anything related to that day. They said it might ruin your mind permanently."
She looks straight at Calen.
"That's why we never told you. Not because we forgot her. But because we had to protect you."
Adrian turns away, his shoulders tense. His face tightens with pain, and for a long moment, he says nothing. His eyes are clouded, as if the weight of those memories has pulled him into the past. Evelyn watches him silently, guilt and sorrow layered in her gaze.
She finally speaks, her voice low. "We never told you before, Calen... but after the accident, we threw away all her belongings. Her clothes, her toys, her certificates — everything. We took them and let the river carry them away."
Calen turns to her, stunned. "Is that why… now… you want to adopt this girl?"
Evelyn looks at him without hesitation. "Yes. That's exactly why."
At that very moment, the door opens, and the doctor walks in. He looks at Evelyn carefully.
"Madam… are you sure?" he asks. "Do you really want to adopt her?"
Evelyn nods firmly. "Yes, Doctor. But I don't want her to know yet. She should believe we are her real family — that we belong to her."
The doctor nods slowly, understanding the seriousness. "Alright."
Calen turns to the doctor, asking with curiosity, "Doctor, what do you think her age might be, roughly?"
The doctor thinks for a moment. "Hmm… somewhere around 21 or 22."
"I'll make a note, madam." Doctor gives a small smile and quietly leaves them alone.
Calen turned to Evelyn, and said, "Okay, Mom. We'll support you."
Evelyn looks at Adrian. He nods quietly. "Alright."
Evelyn exhales in relief.
They step into the hospital room. The girl is sitting up on the bed, eyes dull and confused as she stares at them. There's no emotion — just silence.
Evelyn walks to her side and sits beside the bed, watching her gently. The girl looks back at her, uncertain, lost.
But Evelyn doesn't speak — she simply stays there, present.
Something unspoken passes between them.
The girl looks at Evelyn, her voice soft and unsure. "Mom?"
Evelyn's eyes well up instantly. She turns away, unable to hold back the tears, her shoulders trembling.
The girl reaches out and gently wipes Evelyn's tears. "Why are you crying? I'm fine… nothing happened to me."
Evelyn quickly composes herself and whispers, "It's nothing… I'm okay."
Just then, a nurse walks into the room with a clipboard. "Ma'am, we need a name to register her under hospital records."
Evelyn pauses for a second, then says calmly, "Ivy."