Chapter 38: Melissa's Waking (2)
The moment Melissa's eyes opened, they were unfocused.
Lost. Terrified.
Her chest rose sharply as she dragged in a breath, choking on it like she'd forgotten how air worked.
Jeff was on his feet instantly.
"It's okay," he said firmly, grounding. "You're safe. You're here."
Her gaze darted wildly—ceiling, lights, machines—until it landed on him.
Recognition flickered, Confusion followed.
Then fear— And finally, tears.
Her lips trembled.
"J… Jeff?" she rasped.
The sound shattered Violet.
Jeff's knees nearly buckled, but he held himself upright.
"Yes," he said, voice breaking as a smile fought through tears. "I'm here."
Melissa tried to speak again, but the words dissolved into a sob.
Jeff caught her hand, holding it carefully, anchoring her to the moment.
"You don't have to talk," he said quickly. "You did enough."
Around them, the doctor was already giving instructions, nurses moving in—but Jeff didn't leave her side.
Melissa's fingers tightened weakly around his.
As if afraid that if she let go— She would fall again.
But this time, someone was holding her.
Her eyes opened fully now.
Not fluttering. Not drifting.
Open.
She stared at the ceiling as if it didn't belong to her world—too white, too bright, too real. Her breathing came uneven, shallow gasps tearing from her chest as awareness crashed in all at once.
"Melissa…" Violet whispered, Her voice breaking completely.
Melissa turned her head slowly, The movement alone exhausted her.
Her gaze landed on Violet—but there was no instant recognition.
Only searching. Studying.
As if trying to place a memory that refused to line up with the present.
For a long moment, she just stared.
Then her eyes filled.
"…Violet?" she croaked, uncertain.
Violet covered her mouth with both hands.
"Yes," she sobbed. "Yes—it's me. I'm here."
The sound of Violet crying seemed to unlock something.
Melissa's lips trembled, Her face crumpled.
And then she was crying too—silent at first, then breaking, fragile sobs shaking her thin body.
"I—I thought—" she gasped. "I thought I died."
Jeff turned his face away sharply, pressing a hand over his eyes.
Tears spilled through his fingers anyway.
"You didn't," he said hoarsely. "You are here. You are alive."
Melissa's gaze drifted between them, disbelief written into every line of her face.
"Jeff…" she whispered.
He stepped closer instantly.
"I'm here," he said. "I promised, didn't I?"
She nodded weakly, tears slipping into her hair.
"You… look different," she murmured.
Jeff let out a broken laugh. "You slept for four years."
Her brows furrowed.
"Four… years?"
The weight of it landed slowly.
Violet reached out, brushing Melissa's hair back with shaking fingers.
"You don't have to think about that now," she said softly. "One thing at a time."
Melissa swallowed.
"I remember… the fall," she whispered. "I remember thinking… it hurt."
Her fingers trembled. "…And then nothing."
Silence filled the room.
Then Melissa inhaled sharply—testing.
Her face changed.
Confusion tightening into fear.
"I—" she tried, shifting slightly.
Nothing happened.
Her eyes widened.
"I can't…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Why can't I move?"
Jeff froze, Violet went still.
Melissa tried again. Nothing.
Her breathing sped up, panic clawing its way in.
"My legs," she whispered. "Why can't I feel my legs?"
Tears spilled fast now.
"They're cold," she said, voice breaking. "Why are they so cold?"
Violet was crying openly, Jeff swallowed, pain cutting deep.
"Melissa," he said gently, stepping closer so she wouldn't feel alone. "Listen to me."
She looked at him, desperate.
"You survived a severe fall," he said carefully. "Your body protected you… but your spine was injured."
She stared.
"…What does that mean?"
Jeff closed his eyes, Then opened them.
"It means," he said softly, voice breaking, "you can't walk. Not right now."
The room went silent.
Melissa blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then she shook her head weakly.
"No," she whispered. "That's not—no—you're wrong."
She tried again, Nothing.
Her chest hitched violently.
"I can't feel them," she sobbed. "Jeff, I can't feel them—"
Violet broke. She leaned forward, clutching Melissa's hand, crying openly now.
"I'm so sorry," Violet cried. "I should have protected you—I—"
Melissa tightened her grip weakly.
"Stop," she whispered, shaking. "Please… don't say that."
Her tears streamed unchecked.
"I'm scared," she admitted, voice small. "I don't know what to do."
Jeff knelt beside the bed, eye level with her.
"You don't have to know right now," he said gently. "You just woke up."
Violet leaned closer, voice trembling but steady.
"Melissa," she said softly. "This isn't the end. I promise you."
Melissa looked at her through tears.
"…You promise?"
Violet nodded, fierce despite the fear.
"I do," she said. "There are treatments. Recovery. Things we haven't tried yet."
She swallowed. "And I won't leave you to face it alone. "hard."But"I will do everything I can to help you walk again."
Melissa's sobs softened—exhausted, aching.
She was hurting, She was afraid.
But she was alive, And she wasn't alone.
Violet rested her forehead against Melissa's arm.
Jeff stayed at her side.
And in that hospital room— Joy and grief existed together.
Because waking up didn't mean everything was fixed.
It just meant— She survived.
And survival was enough
to begin again.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
An hour later. Melissa was asleep again.
Not the endless, unreachable sleep from before—but a careful one, guided by medicine and exhaustion. The machines had quieted, their rhythm slower now, less urgent. Proof that her body was still fragile. Proof that waking up had taken everything she had.
"Poor Melissa," said Vira as she felt bad for her
Violet watched until the nurse dimmed the lights and gently closed the door.
Only then did she let out the breath she'd been holding for hours.
The hallway felt cooler. Sharper. Too normal for what had just happened.
Jeff leaned back against the wall running a hand through his hair.
"She handled it better than I expected," he said quietly. "Better than most people would."
Violet nodded, arms folding around herself.
"It's quite surprising," she murmured. "Even though she's terrified."
Silence settled between them.
Not empty—just heavy. Like the hospital itself was holding its breath.
Violet hadn't realized how tightly she was holding herself together until her hands began to shake.
Jeff noticed.
"You should sit," he said gently.
She nodded—but before she could move— Footsteps echoed down the hall.
Familiar ones.
Andrea stopped a few feet away, taking everything in at once: the closed door, Jeff's drawn expression, Violet's pale face.
He didn't ask what happened.
He walked straight to Violet.
Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest.
Firm.
Real.
Violet froze for half a second— Then everything she'd been bracing finally gave way.
Her forehead pressed into his shoulder as her breath hitched. She clutched his jacket like it was the only solid thing left in the world.
Andrea rested his chin lightly against her hair.
"I've got you," he murmured. "It's okay. You're okay."
She didn't answer, She didn't need to.
Her breathing slowly began to match his—deep, steady, patient. He didn't rush her. Didn't tell her to be strong. He just stayed, anchoring her to the present.
Jeff quietly stepped back, giving them space.
After a moment, Violet whispered, voice barely there.
"She woke up."
Andrea's hold tightened just slightly.
"Really," he said. "That's good news." he paused,then asked "if she's awake,why are you sad".
"She can't walk," Violet answered , the words finally breaking free. "Not right now. And Jeff says… it might never be the same."
Andrea didn't flinch, He didn't minimize it.
"Then we take it as it comes," he said simply.
Violet pulled back just enough to look at him. Her eyes were red, Exhausted. Heavy with too many emotions layered on top of each other.
"We haven't told her this yet but there's a way to help," she said quietly. "Do you remember the bone restoration pill.The one I made years ago. It should help, but she's too weak for it right now. So we can't give it to her. We have to wait."
Andrea nodded.
"Waiting doesn't mean giving up," he said. "It means it's not the right time yet, and if you don't want her to know yet ,so be it.
it's your way of protecting her. If she doesn't understand that, then maybe she isn't worth it."
"Don't say that", scolded Violet but something in her chest loosened.
Inside her mind, Vira spoke softly for once.
…Host ,he is right. Annoyingly so. Your boytoy is quite useful.
Before Violet could respond— Footsteps again. Faster this time.
"Violet—Jeff—!"
Dannon rounded the corner, hair disheveled, breath uneven.
"How is she?" he demanded. "They said—someone said she woke up—"
"She did," Violet said gently.
For a heartbeat, he just stared, Then his face crumpled.
Tears spilled instantly as he covered his mouth with his hand.
"She's awake?" he choked. "She's really—"
He lurched toward the door.
"I need to see her—"
Jeff stepped in front of him, gentle but unyielding.
"You can't," he said. "She's asleep again."
Dannon stopped short, chest heaving.
"Asleep?" he asked shakily. "Did something go wrong?"
"No," Violet said quickly. "She's okay. Just… exhausted."
Dannon dragged a hand down his face, sobbing openly now.
"I thought I lost her," he whispered. "I thought I'd never hear her voice again."
Jeff placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
"She heard us," he said. "She knows we're here."
Dannon nodded, wiping his eyes roughly, Then his voice dropped.
"Are there any casualties?"
The silence answered before anyone spoke.
Violet looked down.Jeff exhaled slowly.
"Yes," Jeff said. "She can't walk. Not right now."
Dannon's jaw tightened—but he didn't break.
"But we're not giving up," Violet said firmly, Andrea's arm still around her. "There are treatments. Rehab. And… I have something that might help. Just not yet."
Dannon looked at her sharply. "What kind of help?"
"A compound," Violet said. "Bone restoration. But her body can't handle it yet. We need weeks. Maybe longer."
Jeff nodded. "It's dangerous to rush. Waiting is safer."
Dannon swallowed hard."But is there a chance?."
"Yes," Violet said. "There is."
He exhaled shakily, then nodded.
"Then that's enough," he said. "She's awake. She's alive. We'll take the rest one step at a time."
Andrea tightened his hold on Violet just slightly.
Jeff straightened.
The four of them stood there together—different kinds of love, different kinds of fear, bound by the same fragile hope.
Behind the closed door, Melissa slept.
Not lost, Not gone.
Just resting.
And for the first time in four years—
Tomorrow existed.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Time did not rush to meet them.
It moved carefully, like it was afraid to break her again.
In the days after Melissa woke, the hospital room became less of a miracle and more of a place people passed through—quietly, reverently, carrying their relief in small doses.
Jeff was always there.
Sometimes standing at the foot of the bed with charts in hand, sometimes asleep in a chair he pretended was comfortable. Dannon came every day too, bringing nothing but himself and staying longer than visiting hours allowed.
Violet came the most.
She came with updates. With notes. With the kind of presence that didn't ask Melissa to be okay.
Emery visited once, slipping in with an awkward smile and flowers that were far too bright for a hospital room.
"I didn't know what to bring," he said awkwardly.
"You visited," Melissa replied hoarsely. "That's enough."
Even Principal Aiden came—formal at first, standing too straight, voice measured.
"I heard you woke up," he said, looking at Melissa with something like respect. "That alone is no small thing."
Melissa nodded, unsure how to respond.
He stayed longer than expected, Asked about pain. About school. About what she wanted to do next.
But there were absences too.
The kind that screamed louder than presence ever could.Her parents never came.
They knew, They were informed the moment she woke.
But when the truth followed—that she couldn't walk—the silence settled in like a verdict.
Useless.
That was the word no one said out loud.
Melissa heard it anyway, She didn't cry.
She just stopped asking. But amidst all this violet never told her about the restoration pill.
No one did.
.
.
.
.
.
Three Weeks Later
When Violet finally told Melissa about the pill, she straight off agreed.
And now the pill sat in Violet's palm like something sacred.
Small. Pale. Unassuming.
De'ora's bone restoration pill.
Not a miracle. A beginning.
"Your body is stronger now," Violet said quietly, standing beside the bed. "Stronger than it was three weeks ago. But this will still hurt."
Melissa nodded.
Jeff stood on the other side, jaw tight, hands clenched behind his back. "You can still change your mind," he said.
Melissa shook her head.
"I won't," she replied. "If this is the start… I want it."
Violet handed her the pill.
Melissa swallowed it, No second thought.
For a moment— Nothing happened.
Seconds passed.
A minute.
Two.
Jeff exhaled, shoulders easing just a fraction— Then Melissa screamed.
Her back arched violently as pain tore through her legs.
Muscles convulsed beneath her skin, veins rising, trembling, stretching like they were being pulled into existence all at once.
Her legs shook uncontrollably.
Jeff moved instantly. "Anastasia. Now."
The doctors rushed in, administering the sedative—but even then, the pain didn't disappear.
It dulled.
Four hours passed like that.
Four hours of Melissa crying herself hoarse, of Violet gripping her hand until her fingers went numb, of Jeff counting her breaths like it was the only thing keeping the room together.
When it finally ended, Melissa collapsed back into the bed, drenched in sweat, shaking, exhausted beyond words.
She didn't pass out.
She breathed.
And then—
"…I can feel them."
Her voice was barely there.
Jeff froze. Violet leaned in. "What?"
"My legs," Melissa whispered, tears sliding sideways into her hair. "They're… heavy. Sore. But they're there."
Not walking. Not standing.
But feeling.
It wasn't victory. It was proof.
When they all heard that, they all burst into tears, cheers and laughter.
Even the doctors and nurse cried as they congratulated Melissa.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
One Week Later
Therapy began, Every morning. No exceptions.
Jeff wheeled her down the halls himself, hands steady even when his eyes weren't.
The sessions were brutal.
Massaging muscles that screamed back.
Forcing nerves to respond, Hours of pain for inches of progress.
Some days Melissa cried, Some days she went silent.
But every day—she showed up.
And she smiled more often than not.
"I'm alive and I will be able to walk again ," she said once, breathless after a session. "I think I'm allowed to be happy about that."
Jeff smiled back, tired and proud.
.
.
.
.
.
Meanwhile at Imperial high.
Violet stood in Principal Aiden's office with her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
"We all want her to take the exams with this year's final class," Violet said. "Will she be able to, If we tutor her."
Aiden studied her for a long moment.
"That's a heavy workload," he said. "For someone recovering from trauma."
"She won't do it alone," Violet replied. "We'll make sure she's ready for it."
Silence.
Then—
"All right," Aiden said. "If she can keep up… I'll allow it."
Violet exhaled shakily.
"Thank you."
When Violet broke the news to Melissa, she agreed, she was happy, it's felt as if life was finally coming together.
What Followed Next.
Mornings were therapy.
Afternoons were notes, textbooks spread across the bed.
Evenings blurred into long hours of explaining, rewriting, relearning.
Jeff taught science with infinite patience.
Dannon quizzed her relentlessly and pretended not to notice when she dozed off mid-sentence.
Sometimes Andrea came with Violet, bringing food, grounding the room with quiet warmth.
Some nights Melissa cried—not from pain, but from exhaustion.
Some nights she laughed because she got an answer right.
Progress was slow.
Painful.
But every day— She moved forward.
Not walking yet.
But living.
And for the first time since the fall— Her future wasn't something that ended.
It was something she was building again. One aching, hopeful step at a time.