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Chapter Seven
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2025-07-28 17:58:08Kyla.
Washed Away, Waking Up
I feel like I’m drowning.
Weightless and heavy at the same time, as though I’m suspended in a place between this world and the next. Cold water laps against my skin. The sound of waves murmuring in the distance, seagulls screeching above it all feels like a dream. My body refuses to move, yet my soul feels restless, aching for something... someone.
Then I hear a voice.
“Over here! I think it’s a woman!”
More voices echo, muffled and urgent. I try to open my eyes, to speak, but my body doesn’t respond. Darkness pulls me back under, and the world vanishes again.
When I wake again, it’s different. There’s a sterile smell. A rhythmic beeping sound. Something cold is wrapped around my wrist. The ceiling above me is white. Too white. I blink slowly, confused, as pain slowly claws its way into my awareness.
A nurse notices me and gasps. “Doctor! She’s awake! She’s awake!”
Footsteps shuffle in quickly. A man in a white coat appears beside me, eyes widening with surprise and relief. “You’re awake. You’re going to be okay, ma’am. You’re in a hospital. My name is Dr. Mwangi. You were in a coma.”
Coma?
I try to speak, but my throat is dry and raw. The doctor holds up a cup with a straw and helps me sip.
“How long?” I croak.
“Two months,” he replies gently. “You were found washed ashore near Malindi by local fishermen. You were unconscious, hypothermic, and had several injuries. They brought you to us just in time.”
Two months?
My head spins. The last thing I remember is Jake. The bedroom door. The voices. The betrayal. Then, the car. The screech of tires. And then nothing.
“My name... is Kyla,” I whisper. “I need to call my husband. He must be worried.”
Dr. Black gives me a look that makes my skin prickle. “There was no identification on you when you were brought in. You were listed as a Jane Doe. We filed a missing persons alert, but no one came forward. I’m sorry.”
“No one?” My voice cracks.
“No one,” he confirms softly. “Do you remember anything? Any phone numbers? Family members?”
I nod slowly, tears welling up. “My husband. Jake. My sister... Amina.”
He pats my hand. “We’ll try to help you get in touch. For now, rest.”
He leaves, but I can’t rest. Not with my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. Not with the sickening realization that no one had come looking for me.
My body aches as I sit up slowly. Every movement feels foreign, like I’m relearning how to be in my skin. After the nurse helps me clean up and eat something light, I ask for access to the internet.
She hands me a hospital tablet. My fingers tremble as I type in Jake’s name.
The first article that pops up hits me like a bullet.
“Tragic Loss: Jake Donovan Mourns Wife Kyla After River Incident.”
My photo is there. A smiling image from our wedding day. My chest tightens. Dead. They declared me dead.
But the next headline steals the air from my lungs completely.
“From Mourning to Marriage: Businessman Jake Donovan Ties the Knot with Sister in Law Amina pqrk”
No. No, this has to be a mistake.
I click the article, my eyes scanning the words like a madwoman.
“A whirlwind romance born from shared grief...”
“Jake found comfort in his late wife’s younger sister, Amina, who moved in to support him after Kyla’s tragic passing”
“Married last week in a quiet, intimate ceremony”
A photo loads. Jake, my Jake smiling, arm around Amina, who wears a white dress I recognize. Mine. She’s wearing my wedding dress.
I scream. A guttural, broken sound rips from my chest as the tablet crashes to the ground. My breath comes in sharp gasps, and I clutch my stomach to our baby. I was pregnant.
My baby
No one looked for me. They just gave up. Moved on. Married each other.
A nurse runs in, alarmed by the noise. “Miss Kyla! Please calm down, your body is still healing”
But I can’t calm down.
Everything inside me shatters all over again.
They didn’t just forget me.
They buried me alive.
And now they’re living the life that was meant to be mine.
No.
Not anymore.
If they think I’m dead, then maybe... maybe that’s my advantage. I will remain dead.
Because I’m coming back.
And when I do, they’ll wish I had stayed buried.
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