Chapter 6

Luceila’s POV

The ceiling above me is white. Pristine. Sterile.

I blink slowly, trying to piece together where I am. Hospital. The antiseptic smell confirms it before my foggy mind fully registers the IV line taped to my hand. How did I get here? Why does everything feel so... disconnected? Like I'm watching my life through a shadow.

Voices drift from somewhere nearby, low, masculine, familiar yet distant. And another voice, softer. Mom.

"The doctor said she needs constant supervision," one of them says. Reis, I think. His voice carries that edge of authority he always has, the one that makes people listen whether they want to or not.

"She's not really strong," the doctor's voice filters through the haze. "She'll need to be taken care of. This isn't something she can manage alone."

"Of course." That's Mom, her voice trembling slightly. "Whatever she needs. Anything. We'll do whatever it takes."

I try to sit up, and the world tilts dangerously. The white ceiling blurs, spinning like a carousel, and my stomach lurches. A soft groan escapes my lips before I can stop it, the sound weak to my ears.

The voices cut off abruptly. Footsteps approach, and suddenly Mom's face hovers above me, her eyes are red and she has a worried expression on her face. She looks like she's been crying for hours, maybe days.

"Luceila, sweetheart." She takes my hand, squeezing gently. "You're awake. Thank the moon goddess, you're awake. You scared us so much."

Behind her, three figures stand in a loose semicircle, my stepbrothers. Reis, Ruan, and Silas. Their faces are composed, concerned mixed with something else I can't quite name. Distance, maybe. Discomfort. Like there's an invisible wall between us that even this crisis can't break down.

They've always been like that. Polite but remote. Present but not really there. We share a house, share meals sometimes, but we've never shared ourselves.

"Mom?" My voice comes out scratchy, rough from disuse. How long have I been asleep? "What happened? Where am I?"

"You collapsed, baby." She brushes hair back from my forehead, the gesture achingly familiar. It's the same thing she used to do when I was little and had nightmares, when the world felt too big and scary. "At home. You just... You fell. We found you at the staircase. Don't you remember?"

I search my memory, grasping at fragments that slip away like water through my fingers. Home. The staircase. I was... doing something. Something important. Making tea? No, that doesn't feel right. Looking for something? The harder I try to remember, the more it fades, like trying to hold onto smoke.

"I remember..." I pause, frustrated by the gaps in my mind, the empty spaces where memories should be. "Pieces. Just pieces. Nothing makes sense. It's like... like there's fog in my head."

Mom's face crumples slightly before she composes herself, forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "It's okay. Don't push yourself, sweetheart. The doctor will explain everything."

"Explain what?" Panic rises in my chest, sharp and sudden, clawing at my ribs. My heart rate monitor beeps faster, betraying my fear. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I remember? Mom, I'm scared."

Before she can answer, the door opens and a woman in a white coat enters. Dr. Huang, according to her name tag. She's middle-aged, with gentle features and kind eyes, the sort that have seen too much suffering but still manage to hold compassion. Which somehow makes me more nervous. Kind eyes usually mean bad news.

"Good, you're awake, Luceila." She approaches with a smile, checking the monitors beside my bed with efficient movements. Her fingers dance over the controls, her eyes scanning the readouts. "How are you feeling? Any pain? Dizziness? Nausea?"

"Confused," I admit, my voice small and childlike. "A little scared. A lot scared, actually. Everything feels... wrong."

"That's understandable." She glances at Mom, then at my stepbrothers, her expression shifting to something more serious, more clinical. "I'd like to discuss the test results with everyone. Is everyone here family?"

"Yes," Mom says firmly, her chin lifting in that defiant way she has when someone questions her. "These are my stepsons. Luceila's brothers. They have a right to know what's happening."

Brothers. The word still feels strange after a few years, like wearing someone else's clothes. We're family on paper, bound by our parents' marriage, but the emotional distance cannot be closed. I can see it now in how they stand, Reis with his arms crossed over his chest, Ruan studying his phone like it holds the secrets of the universe, Silas leaning against the wall with a calm expression on his face. Present, but not really here. Never really here.

They came because they had to, not because they wanted to.

Dr. Huang nods and pulls up a chair beside my bed, settling into it with the air of someone preparing for a difficult conversation. She crosses her legs and folds her hands in her lap. "Luceila, we've run several tests over the past few hours, MRIs, cognitive assessments, and blood tests. The results are... concerning. Your symptoms have been going on for a while now, haven't they? The memory lapses, confusion, difficulty with familiar tasks?"

My throat tightens. Had they been that bad? I thought... "I thought I was just stressed. Tired. Everyone forgets things sometimes, right? Where they put their keys, what they had for breakfast..."

"Yes, everyone can be forgetful once in a while," Dr. Huang agrees, her tone was calm. "But based on our findings, what you're experiencing goes beyond normal stress-related memory issues. There's something more serious happening. Something we need to address immediately."

Mom's grip on my hand tightens almost painfully. I can feel her trembling, her fear transferring through her touch.

"What is it?" I ask, though part of me doesn't want to know. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss. Sometimes not knowing is better than facing the truth.

Dr. Huang takes a breath, her eyes moving from me to Mom, then to the three men standing behind her. Her expression is calm, but I can see the weight of what she's about to say in the slight furrow of her brow, in the way she clasps her hands together tightly, in the pause she takes before speaking.

"Mrs. Sisilya," she begins, addressing my mother directly. Her voice is steady, practiced. "Gentlemen." She nods at my stepbrothers, and I notice Ruan finally pockets his phone, giving her his full attention. "I need you to understand that Luceila will require comprehensive care moving forward. She's not really strong, and her condition demands careful attention and support. Round-the-clock monitoring, at least initially."

"What condition?" Reis steps forward, his voice sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. "What exactly are we dealing with here? Stop dancing around it and just tell us."

Ruan finally looks up fully, his jaw tight, and even Silas straightens against the wall, his casual demeanor slipping. All three of them are suddenly paying attention, though their expressions remain guarded, careful. Like they're bracing for impact, preparing for the worst.

Mom's hand trembles in mine, her breathing shallow. "Please, doctor. Just tell us. Whatever it is, we can handle it. Just... please. I need to know what's wrong with my daughter."

The room feels too small suddenly, the air too thick. The monitor beeps steadily in the background, counting out my heartbeats.

Dr. Huang's gaze sweeps across all of them, my mother, my stepbrothers, these people who are supposed to be ‘my family’ before she delivers the words that will change everything.

"She has dementia." The doctor said.

Looking at their faces, I knew that it was going to be a tough and long one