Chapter 122: What is real and what is not.

July 25 2026, 12:17pm.

By the time she finally got out of bed, she realized to her surprise that there were presents scattered at the foot of her bed.

On her bedside table was an array of exotic foods, especially ones she had never seen before. None of the quadruplets were present but their presence was overwhelming in the room. Then there was Jemima—the bright-haired, bright-eyed doctor—who was checking her vitals while humming an upbeat song under her breath.

The room smelled of pines and sweets. It smelled like something she had once envisioned that heaven would smell like.

She pulled herself into a sitting position and furrowed her eyebrows when the familiar room came into view. She frowned.

Am I dead yet?

"No," Jemima answered, lifting her head from the file in front of her, and Nyx’ara was stunned because she had not expected to ask that out loud:

Her heart raced as she watched the cotton candy-doctor step closer— close enough that her warm sugary coffee scent hit Nyx’ara’s nostrils, and then she murmured. "You’re not dead yet... and surprisingly you did not sustain too many injuries so you can get out of bed any time soon."

Her response made Nyx’ara even more confused. She could remember how she had jumped off that window which was two stories from the ground. She could remember the pain... the blood loss... the feeling of her mother’s gentle fingers brushing against her hair... and she could remember—

Oh right, she had a dream last night! Dead people don’t dream!

Her throat closed up with a mixture of exasperation and sadness. She hated that there was nothing she could do for herself anymore. Even death. Goddess, she even couldn’t take her own life!

So what was the point of living?!

However, discarding these thoughts, she forced herself to glance away from the large helium balloon standing only a few feet away from her bed. On it were the words: ’Get well soon, beautiful!’ inscribed on it, and as soon as she saw it, her frown un-bloomed.

We know that’s not a word!

Something about the whole setup made her cheeks heat up, but she pushed that feeling down, looked up at Jemima, and asked, "What is today’s date please?"

There was no pause in her voice, no stutter either but she was too lost in her thoughts to notice these things.

"July 25th," Jemima answered, "why?"

At the sound of the other woman’s voice, something at the back of her mind clicked. Her face fell and a feeling... a strange twisted feeling began to brew at the back of her mind.

"When did the accident happen?" She asked again to be sure, causing Jemima to stare at her for a long minute before scribbling down something into the file.

’She’s probably thinking I have lost my mind,’ Nyx’ara thought, but was snapped out of that thought when Jemima answered;

"Yesterday."

The color drained from her face.

For a couple of minutes, she simply sat there in stunned silence, unwilling to believe that she had thrown herself off that window only yesterday. She could not believe that she had reached the brink of death barely twenty-four hours ago, yet here she was breathing and living fine as though it was usual to possess such speedy recovery!

Hell, how is Jemima being so cool about it?

And why is she not dead when that was all she ever wanted?

Her frown deepened when Jemima slammed the folder in her hands shut and checked on the IV for the nth time in the past few minutes. She coughed dramatically by the time she was done and took a step back.

"You are one lucky one, Nyx’ara." She muttered softly, her voice light, "...many people, especially the ones that have been passing off as ’omegas’ like you would have died from that height, and frankly, I am curious to know what you did differently. However, I will not ask you about it."

"But you should ask me, shouldn’t you?" Nyx’ara clapped back, equally as confused as the woman in front of her. Her brain would not stop spinning with a million and one possibilities, yet, nothing she thought about made any sense to her.

Is this the afterlife?

Is Jemima dead as well?

She was again pulled out of her thoughts when the doctor shook her head and pressed the folder even closer to her chest. "I have run some tests on you but the results are not out yet. Until then... I will not bug you with baseless claims and I would advise you to rest a lot in case there are any complications we may have missed."

She then turned to walk away but as soon as she arrived at the door, she stopped and turned around, her eyes fastened on Nyx’ara’s as she drawled;

"The first time I examined you when you just began to live here, I suspected that you had a neurological condition. I used to think that the reason you almost lost your hearing, seeing, and speaking abilities was due to this said brain-related neurological disorder known as FND... but now I know that the only thing you suffered from was dissociation. Your sensory nerves had simply shut down due to immense physical trauma... but now, they’re waking up."

Nyx’ara, who did not understand more than half of what Jemima had just said due to the haze formed around her head, frowned. She pressed her hand to her temples and hissed;

"What do you mean?"

Jemima shrugged. "There used to be a thin film covering your eye lenses but I have noticed that they are no longer there. Other test results are not out yet, but I have also seen a significant improvement in your speech—"

Nyx’ara blanched. "How?"

"You haven’t stuttered since... not even once."

And that made Nyx’ara pause. Her eyes widened slightly as it slowly came to her and her cheeks colored a bright shade of red when her previous sentences began to replay and float around her head, reminding her over and over again of how Jemima was right.

She had talked a total of over four sentences, yet she had not stuttered once.

How in hell is this not the afterlife?

Her eyes narrowed when Jemima flashed her a smile, and then she walked out of the room, leaving Nyx’ara to figure herself out.

She sat in bed for what felt like an eternity, but after becoming bored, she slowly rose to her feet, pulled the now empty IV set out of her hand, and walked over to the vanity mirror in the corner of the room.

Her breath hitched the moment she saw her reflection in the mirror and she almost fell to the floor from shock when she noticed the black strands now spreading across her head like a thick shadow— but only on the left side of her head.

Her hand rose slowly to catch the strands only to let out a sigh when she was met with only fine smooth hair texture.

This isn’t real.

It cannot be real.

"It is very real, Nyx’ara," a soft voice drawled from the door, causing a small gasp to escape her lips as she spun around to face whoever it was.

It was Rhys.

It was always him.

"Your hair has been changing color overnight and even though I find that very fascinating... and I find the fact that you scared my shits to death by jumping out your window yesterday— and surprisingly looking better today— shocking, there is something else that I want to know."

Nyx’ara froze and took a shaky step back. "Which is?"

"I want to know who you really are." He answered, "I want to know the thoughts in your head. I want to know the things that you feel deep inside your veins, and—"

"And why would I tell you any of that?" She hissed, eying him suspiciously,

He shrugged. "Well, maybe because I am one of the few people who care about you for a start... and also because I have decided to use every bit of my power to help you."

His words successfully threw her off guard and she found herself stumbling backward only to hit her back straight into the edge of the vanity table.

The white-hot pain instantly made her body tremble and she hissed out in anguish.

"Fuck you!"

Rhys smiled— darkly. Mischievously— then he hissed; "Me or the table?"