Epilogue: The Book That Found Me

 The first thing I heard were the steady sounds of beeping. Slow, and rhythmic. It was cutting through the haze like a clock that wouldn’t stop. My eyelids felt like stone as I tried to pry them open. The weight of a long slumber pressed down on me until finally, I managed to squint into the light. White ceilings, white walls. The faint scent of antiseptic, sharp and sterile. Tubes and wires snaked along my arms, leading to machines that hummed and clicked at my side. Amanda and Sylvia both asleep with their heads on the bed, their arms as pillows. This wasn’t the room I woke up to when I was first Rosaria…

I was in a hospital.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My chest rose and fell in shallow gasps as my mind scrambled to catch up. I wasn’t in the student dorm of Nightfall. I was no longer with Estel. The kingdom, the shadows… Darren’s roar. Historia’s madness. All of it was gone, like a dream that dissolved the moment sunlight touched it. But this time, waking felt worse than the nightmare. Because I knew, deep in my chest, that I would never see Estel again.

A small sound tore from my throat, hoarse and broken as I felt myself choke up. Tears fell, and I bit down on my lip to prevent any sobs from escaping. The monitor responded instantly, its beeping climbing in warning. The door clicked open and hurried footsteps echoed against the linoleum.

“Rose?” Amanda said as she woke up.

Sylvia also woke up, blinking a few times as she noticed I was awake. “Oh my- Rose, you’re awake!”

Their faces came into view, blurry at first until my eyes adjusted from the tears. They looked the same as always. Their eyes wide with worry… the friends I’ve always known in this world. Amanda reached for my hand while Sylvia pressed the call button to summon a nurse.

“You’ve been asleep so long,” Amanda whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. “We thought…” She cut herself off, her voice trembling.

I tried to swallow, my throat dry and raw. “How… how long?”

“A year,” Sylvia answered softly.

A year. My chest tightened, the word crashing into me like a tidal wave. While I had been living, bleeding, fighting in another world, here… I had been sleeping. God… was all fo they really a dream? Did none of it even happen? I was pretty frantic and unstable when I got hit by the car… maybe that affected my subconsciousness… But…

Tears spilled hot again before I could stop them. “He’s gone,” I choked, my voice barely audible.

“Who?” Amanda asked gently.

Estel. His name was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back, pressing my lips together. They would never understand. They couldn’t possibly. Unless… I asked the question clawing at me since I had woken. “Do you… do you remember?”

They blinked at me, puzzled. “Remember what?” Sylvia asked.

“The kingdom. The battle. Historia. Darren. All of it,” I whispered urgently, my voice cracking as my grip on Amanda’s hand tightened. “Do you remember what we went through together?”

Amanda frowned. “Rose, what are you talking about? We were here. We never left. We’ve been watching over you since the accident.”

It hit me then. What they had said before, when I told them I was phasing in and out of existence… or at least… who I thought were them. They were waiting for me…. The Amanda and Sylvia I had fought beside were not the same girls sitting before me now. They were echoes. Reflections molded into that other world so I would not be alone.

And now, I was truly back.

The weight of it sank into me, heavy and merciless. The only people who had seen me, who had fought by my side in that world, no longer remembered any of it. All of it was gone, swept away like ink smeared from a page.

I cried harder. Not loud sobs, but the kind that broke silently. My shoulders shook as tears slipped endlessly down my face. Amanda and Sylvia panicked, trying to soothe me… but their voices were distant, muffled. All I could think about was Estel’s face as he kissed me before everything faded. His mismatched eyes, his voice telling me he cared after so long believing he never would.

And now, he was gone. Nothing but a dream that would never be obtainable. A story, trapped in my own consciousness about a person who would always remain in the confines of a page.

Days passed. Nurses came and went, checking my vitals and adjusting the wires tethered to me. The doctor told me my body had survived the car accident and plunged into a coma. A miracle, they said, that I had woken up after a year. But I didn’t feel like it was a miracle. I felt hollow, miserable as I was before the accident.

Amanda and Sylvia stayed with me as often as they could, bringing me books and food that was better than what the hospital served. They tried to coax me into smiling, into watching dumb dramas on a tablet propped up by my bed. And I tried, for them. But every time I laughed, the sound felt thin, like it belonged to someone else.

I even read their copy of ‘His Amour’. Just like they told me. Estel happily married Rosaria. An illustration of them both at their wedding, drawn by Amor’s usual artist. It was sweet. No one died. Historia was happy with Darren. Darren and the king welcomed Rosaria happily into the royal family. It may have been called ‘His Amour’, but Estel never cheated. Historia did… of course, but he and Historia communicated. They talked, and agreed they would be happier going their own ways.

Estel and Rosaria bonded, they had fun. Nothing of the horrors I had read previously, as if I had imagined that as well. When I asked Amanda and Sylvia about it, they said my special edition got ruined in the accident, and when they asked Amor about it, she said it was a version she made when she was in a dark place, She had copies of the book, debating on announcing them the day of the book signing, but after hearing so many people love Estel, she decided not to.

“I had a fan who looked lovestruck with Estel in the signing. Instead, I decided to announce the other book I had ready. I realized… Things change. And the last thing I want to do was make people that love my characters cry and feel empty.” Sylvia said, repeating what Amor had said that day.

One afternoon, a nurse mentioned something that lodged itself into my brain..

“There’s been someone visiting,” she said casually while checking the IV line. “A young man. He’s been bringing you flowers almost every week since you were admitted.”

I blinked. “What?”

She smiled softly. “He never stays when you’re awake. He only comes when you’re sleeping. He really seems to care about you a great deal.”

My heart twisted. Flowers… For a whole year?

“Who is he?” I asked, my curiosity more noticeable than I intended.

She shrugged. “He never leaves a name. He just brings them and sits for a while, muttering to himself. Then leaves.”

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. At night, staring at the ceiling, I imagined his face. Some stranger who pitied me? A friend of my family? No. It couldn’t be. I stopped communicating with my family all together a couple of years ago, along with anyone we knew..

And yet, the thought would not let me rest.

It happened on a night when the rain tapped against the hospital window, soft and steady. I was half asleep. The machines beside me hummed their lullaby… when I heard it. The door opening, the shuffle of shoes, the faintest rustle of clothing. I froze, my breath caught as I saw him in his entirety.

He stood by the foot of my bed, a bouquet of red roses cradled in his hands. His silver hair caught the dim light, though I noticed now it was dyed. Imperfect strands of black peeked through his roots. And his eyes… one blue, one brown that stared down at me with something I had not felt in so long.

My chest seized, the monitor at my side noting my heartbeat as my heart raced out of control. Tears blurred my vision as I tried to sit up, my body trembling violently.

“You…” My voice cracked, nothing more than a whisper.

His head lifted. Surprise flickered across his face before a small, quiet smile curved his lips. I couldn’t hold back the tears. They fell freely, spilling down my cheeks as I choked on a sob. My chest ached with the force of it, the monitor beeping faster as though echoing my broken heart.

“You waited after the cover closed.”

For a moment, silence hung between us. The sounds of my crying being the only thing that filled the room. Then his smile deepened, soft and knowing, though he said nothing. He only stepped closer, placing the flowers gently on the table beside me, his presence filling the sterile room with warmth I thought I would never feel again.

And though the world outside still hummed with machines and rain, I knew. The story hadn’t ended after all.

“Yeah… Yeah I did… Rosaria… Or should I call you Rose from now on?”