CHAPTER SIX: I remember them.

“Miss Kendrick! Oh, thank God. I’ve been meaning to reach out, but I wanted to give you time to—”

Niya knew there was only one person who had refused to stop addressing her like that. “Claire?” she straightened. “From BookLore?”

The name hadn’t crossed her mind, not even once. But the second she heard that voice—like a switch being flipped in a dark room—it spark-plugged her smudged-out memory. It was strange, really. How some things clung to her mind without effort, while everything else felt like it had been scrubbed away.

“Yes! It’s me. Listen, I don’t want to keep you long,” Claire exhaled audibly, the static of her breath crackling in Niya’s ear. “I wanted to say I’m so glad you’re back on your feet.”

Niya let out a dry breath, her gaze drifting to the floor. She’d barely found solid ground. “I—uh, thanks,” she muttered.

“I know it’s a lot to process,” Claire continued in the most careful voice she could. “But BookLore still wants you. We all do. And Mason Chloe… she was really excited to meet you, but there’s been a little setback—”

“Claire!” Niya interrupted her, then paused, clearing her throat. “You don't have to… just tell me.”

As much as Niya needed to hear the truth, she knew it'd hurt. Even though she couldn't really remember BookLore, Claire had a voice she remembered. And if she could remember that, maybe she could pull up the rest of it, piece by piece.

“Oh, well. Uhm… you see, Mason Chloe—well, to be honest, she’s discouraged?” Claire sighed like she was choosing her words carefully. “We’re still figuring things out, but don’t worry. We’ll make it work. We always do.”

Niya squeezed her eyes shut. She knew it was supposed to be her big break. At first, hearing BookLore had sparked something close to relief, like she had something to fall back on after finding her resignation letter from the supermarket stuffed in her drawer last night.

It had all been planned. Her life had been planned—Get the money. Move to New York. Make something of herself—But the accident had wiped all of that away. And now it felt like everyone was trying to make her feel better about something that had already been ruined.

“Niya?” Claire’s voice hummed through the phone, coupled with the sudden vibration of her phone against her ear, sending a ripple of cold sweat down her spine.

She forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat. “I—yeah. Thanks for the update. I appreciate it, really.”

“Whenever you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

“Yeah.” She ended the call before she could say something pathetic, placing the phone on the counter with more care than necessary.

Niya exhaled through pouty lips and braced her hands against the cool stony counter, staring at the faint reflection of herself on the moist surface. 

She needed a job. Fast. If she was going to move out, she had to find a way to support herself. Ma Phils’ judgment was final and there was no changing her mind. Niya knew that.

BookLore was still an option, but could she really walk back in there and start all over? That alone sent a cold chill throughout her body. Indeed, that will prove her grandmother right.

Her mind was already running through backup plans when her phone lit up with another call. Niya nearly knocked it off the counter.

Her head didn't stop reeling from the conversation with Claire, her fingers gripping the edge of the stony counter as she tried to breathe. But when she saw the name flashing on the screen, her pulse spiked for an entirely different reason.

She hadn’t spoken to Rina since the accident. And if there was anyone in this world who would give her hell for going MIA, it was Renee Roux.

The girl was relentless. A sand storm precisely wrapped in sunshine. Too bright. Too much, maybe. Too everything. And Niya was not in the mood, but she answered anyway.

“Wow,” Rina’s voice spilled through the speaker before Niya could even say hello. “So, you’re alive?”

Niya blinked. But how was she suddenly remembering all of this? The names, the voices—maybe she didn’t need those sterile texts to jog her memory after all. Maybe she could find a way back to her real self. But those drugs were still working their way through her system, so she’d keep them.

“Shouldn’t I be?” Niya tried for casual, but she knew Rina wasn’t letting this go.

In fact, the girl had her nose so deep in this conversation, she hadn’t even picked up on Niya’s tone.

“Too late! I should start. Actually, I should be throwing my shoe at you through the phone, but apparently, science hasn’t caught up with my rage yet.”

Niya pinched the bridge of her nose. “Rina—”

“—Don’t ‘Rina’ me, babe. You vanished. VANISHED! No texts. No calls. You could’ve been dead, and I wouldn’t have known! But oh, look at that—you’re not dead! Which is great! So why the hell didn’t you tell me you were back?”

Niya’s jaw clenched. Because everything is messed up. She didn’t even know who she was anymore, and if she started explaining, she might be termed ‘crazy.’

“I—,” she muttered instead.

“Pony told me,” Rina heaved a dramatic sigh. “That’s the only reason I even know you’re out. Pony, Niya.”

Guilt curled in Niya’s stomach. She hadn’t wanted Rina to find out like that. But what was she supposed to say? Hey, survived the accident. Hate my life now. Let’s catch up?

She rubbed her temple. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” But the bite in Rina’s voice was gone. “You don’t get to resign and move out without letting your work bestie know, Niy.”

Niya stiffened. Oh.

So she didn’t actually know.

If she was this pissed about Niya quitting, how would she react when she found out about the accident? Or Alex? Or the wedding that had turned into nothing? Their friendship might not survive it. If she could keep it from her, then she might as well continue for the sake of her Rina's peace, and by extension, hers.

“I know,” Niya said again, quieter this time.

A beat of silence passed before Rina exhaled. “You okay?”

Niya almost laughed. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Not even close.

Rina didn’t believe her. She could tell, but she didn’t push.

After a moment, Niya picked up the faint sound of what seemed like a chair scraping against the floor, followed by Rina’s quick, impatient sigh which was farther from her mouthpiece. Wherever she was, it wasn’t quiet.

“When you’re ready,” her voice got clearer now, as if she’d adjusted her phone, “I’m coming over. We’re ordering an unhealthy amount of takeout, and you’re telling me everything.”

Niya’s eyes torched. “I’ll think about it?”

Rina huffed. “You suck at this whole vulnerability thing. You're not good? You speak the fuck up.”

“And you're not very nice at comforting someone with your Thanos-infected anger issues.”

“Whatever. Go do whatever broody, emotionally-repressed thing you need to do. But don’t ghost me ever again or I will hunt you down.”

The line went dead.

Niya stared into space still gripping at phone tighter, before her arm dropped. Somewhere in her mind, she knew Rina wasn’t actually mad. Not really. But she still couldn’t tell why that mattered so much.

The quiet returned, and for the first time in years, Niya eyes picked up the chipped paint along the baseboards. Her tired eyes swayed away immediately but land on the way the curtain rod tilted slightly to the left, and the dust settling in the corners of the ceiling. The house had aged, or maybe she had been too busy to even care.

Niya’s head jerked slightly as a door creaked upstairs. She didn’t need to look to know it was Ma Phils’.

“She sure has the strength to meet up with Alex for a marriage,” Niya mumbled under her breath. “Maybe she can use some of that energy to get him to fix the damn Manor.” 

The thought was obviously bitter, but she didn’t try to swallow it down or let it sit, just like everything else.

A small, almost reluctant smile dragged at her chapped lips as her tongue ran over them. She needed to leave.

Without thinking, she reached for her jacket—the one she had tossed on the floor earlier—but Puffy had claimed it. The ugly, puffed-up menace sat like a queen atop her leather, eyes narrowed in probably… silent judgment. Niya thought she deserved it.

“What are you looking at?” She whispered, scrunching her nose as she waved a hand at the cat. 

Puffy didn’t budge.

Niya hissed, scrunching her nose further up. “Fine. Keep it.”

She turned toward the door, fingers curling around the knob. She didn’t know where she was going—only that staying wasn’t an option. Her feet carried her toward the old car her father had left behind. The paint was dull, rust creeping along the edges, but the engine still roared to life on the first turn of the key. It wasn’t like the perfect car Alex had given her. The exact one she’d refused to drive since she returned from the hospital. She couldn’t. Not when every inch of it reeked of him.

And somehow without thinking, without meaning to, Niya ended up at the last place she should have gone. The same place she had walked away from.