Claire blinked. She had cared for that unmoving face for years. It never changed. But now—another movement. A tremor at the corner of Margaret’s mouth. Not random. Intentional.
“That’s impossible…” Claire whispered.
Ethan kept playing. The monitors began to spike, tracing sharp lines instead of lazy waves. Something inside Margaret was responding.
Claire ran into the hallway. “Dr. Bennett! Now!”
The doctor arrived moments later, skepticism written across his face. But when he saw the monitors and the faint movement, his expression shifted.
Ethan stopped, startled by the sudden commotion.
“Don’t stop,” Dr. Bennett said urgently. “Please—keep playing.”
Confused, Ethan obeyed.
The melody resumed.
Margaret’s brow furrowed. A hoarse sound escaped her throat. Her eyelids trembled, fighting gravity.
At that moment Rosa appeared, pale with fear. “Ethan! I’m so sorry—he didn’t mean—please, we’re leaving!” She rushed to pull him away.
“Wait,” Dr. Bennett said softly. “Look.”
Rosa turned.
Margaret’s eyes were open.
It wasn’t dramatic like in movies. It was slow, painful, disoriented. Twenty years of darkness lifting inch by inch. The world flooded back in fragments.