All Chapters of The Reset: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

POV: ClaytonThe next couple of days passed in a blur. We finished the camping trip at Hanalei Pier exactly as we’d planned, though the normalcy felt like a coat that didn't fit quite right. I kept everything staged in the back of the truck, trying to lose myself in the way the pink and orange bruised the sky at sunset. On the final day, when the friends and family swarmed the beach for the barbecue, I almost managed to forget.Now, we’re back at the house, and the peace is gone.She’s rummaging through her office, her voice trailing into the hallway as she thinks aloud. “Out of all the places she roamed in this house, why didn’t she come here?”I lean against the doorframe, my chest tight with a confusion that’s starting to feel like anger. “Who are you talking about?”She stops, her face lighting up when she finds a stack of papers still sitting in the printer tray. She lets out a dry chuckle. “My eighteen-year-old self, Clay. Don’t you think she would’ve found something here? Like

Zia's PovThe nurse, a woman with kind eyes and a name tag that read Lani, led me into the imaging suite. The hospital didn't smell like the salty air of Hanalei or the sweet ginger blossoms of our backyard; it smelled of ozone, industrial cleaner, and the sharp, metallic scent of antiseptic. It was the smell of bad news and borrowed time."Okay, Zia. We’re going to do a chest X-ray and some peripheral blood smears just to be safe," Lani explained, her voice professional but soothing. "We want to make sure there’s no abnormal cell morphology after that... mix-up."I stood against the cold metal plate of the X-ray machine. Breathe in. Hold. Out. The machine whirred, capturing the internal map of my body. Then came the blood draw. I watched the dark red liquid fill the vials—the same type of glass tubes that had almost cost me my life today. But I wasn't shaking. My mind was too clear for that. For the first time in years, the "yearly fog" wasn't creeping in. The Reset hadn't claimed me

POV: ZiaIt had been three days since the hospital. Three days of Clayton hovering, triple-checking my meals, and looking at me like I was made of spun glass. He meant well, but I could feel the clock ticking. The memories of Zachariah and Mia—my parents—and the echoes of Carter’s laugh were vibrant right now, but they felt like they were sitting on a shelf I couldn't quite reach.When the doorbell rang at 10:00 AM, I looked at Clayton. "You have to go, Clay. Go to the pier. Go surf. Just... go.""Zia, I don't like leaving you with a stranger while you're—""I’m not fragile," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. "But I need to break. And I can’t do that if I’m worried about you trying to fix it."He didn't like it, but he left. Ten minutes later, I was sitting across from Viola on the patio. She didn't have a clipboard. She didn't have a "therapist voice." She sat with her legs crossed, sipping a coffee she’d brought herself, her sharp eyes scanning the expensive view of the ocean."N

POV: ZiaThe smell of breakfast filled the kitchen—the salty, caramelized scent of Spam and Portuguese Sausage sizzling in the pan alongside the eggs and bacon. I moved through the motions with a strange fluidity, my muscle memory taking over as I scooped mounds of white rice onto two plates and set the waffles and toast in the center of the table.We took our plates outside to the garden. The morning air was perfect, cooled by the mist from our backyard waterfall that spilled rhythmically into the pool. It was the kind of morning that felt too peaceful for the task ahead of me."I need some alone time today, Clay," I said, poking at my rice. "I need to focus my energy on that letter Viola mentioned. I don't want to be distracted when I go back there."Clayton reached across the table and squeezed my hand. He didn't argue. He didn't try to "save" me from the work. "I don't mind at all. You do what you need to do."When we finished, he gathered the plates. I followed him back inside, w

POV: ClaytonWatching her in the pool was like watching someone come back to life in fast-forward.When I’d first pulled up the driveway earlier, I was half-expecting to find her curled in a ball in her office. Instead, she was slicing through the water, her movements sharp and determined. When she splashed me, that giggle—the one that sounded like the Zia I fell in love with a lifetime ago—hit me right in the chest.Now, as we sat at the patio table for a late lunch, the air was thick with the scent of sun-dried skin and the sandwiches I’d thrown together. I couldn't stop looking at her. She looked exhausted, her eyes still a little red around the edges, but there was a new clarity there."I decided to separate the letters," she said, picking at the crust of her bread. "Viola didn't give me rules, so I’m making my own. This seems more personal. And harder.""How did I get so lucky?" I whispered, pulling her toward me. "To have a wife this strong and this beautiful?"She leaned her he