1-While she's asleep

The doctor's words kept ringing in their ears.

"The patient is out of danger, but she has slipped into a coma."

Bianca nearly collapsed. The hand that caught her belonged to Lorenzo - and as he straightened up, pulling his mother steady against his side, the hospital light caught the ink running up his forearms, dark and deliberate against his skin. He held her without a word, his jaw tight, his face revealing nothing. But his grip on his mother's arm did not loosen.

The doctor continued. "Even if the patient awakens, there is a 70% chance she will lose her memory."

Lorenzo went pale.

It was the only thing that moved on his face. The colour drained from it slowly.

His tattooed hand tightened once around his mother's arm and then deliberately, carefully, loosened. Like a man reminding himself to stay in the room.

Bianca's face had stopped pretending entirely. Pure horror. Raw and uncovered and nothing like the woman who had been holding herself together since the moment they arrived.

"Aurelia can't hear about this," Lorenzo said quietly. "Finding out her twin might never remember her would destroy her." A pause. "And she'll blame herself."

Nobody disagreed.

Antonio arrived with long purposeful strides, his broad shoulders and burly frame still carrying the shape of a man twenty years younger. Bianca looked up and saw her husband and everything she had been holding finally broke open. He pulled her into his chest without a word and held her there, one hand moving slowly across her back.

Lorenzo gave his father a slight nod and stepped back - not leaving, just making room. The tattooed arms folded across his chest. Like protecting people was the only thing he had left.

He stood apart from them, watching the door to Amelia's ward. Waiting.

"She's fought before, Mia cara," Antonio murmured into Bianca's hair. "That has to count for something."

Bianca pulled back and looked him in the eye. "What if she wakes up and doesn't remember me? Doesn't remember any of us - not even Aurelia?"

He was quiet for a long moment, jaw working. "Then we'll be there," he said finally. Just that. Nothing more.

"Mr. and Mrs. De Seria - you may see the patient now."

Antonio nodded and followed his wife into the room. Lorenzo stayed where he was until the door closed behind them. Then he turned, pulled out his phone, and stared at the screen without unlocking it.

Di... Di... Di...

The machines beeped steadily. Antonio and Bianca stepped inside, their footsteps slowing as they took her in - Amelia, fragile against the white pillow, an oxygen mask over her face, her silver-like hair scattered loose. She looked so much like Aurelia it was almost cruel. The same face. The same delicate features. Now so terrifyingly motionless.

Bianca couldn't help being pulled twelve years back.

"Do you think she'll wake up again?" she whispered, her gaze drifting past Amelia into the empty space ahead. "Or will it be like last time?"

Antonio's jaw tightened. He exhaled slowly - the kind of breath a man takes when the words won't come. He reached out and took her hand without looking at her, his thumb moving once across her knuckles.

"She's still here," he said. "Hold onto that."

Bianca smiled faintly - the kind that had nothing to do with happiness - and looked back at her daughter.

"Will you go home now?"

He already knew the answer. He didn't push.

"I'll have someone bring you lunch," he said quietly, stepping out.

Bianca stood alone, her eyes fixed on Amelia's face - so familiar, so achingly present and yet so far away.

"You have to wake up soon," she whispered. "Your sister needs you. We all do."

Antonio stood alone in the hallway, the ward door clicking shut behind him. He stared at the floor for a long moment. Then he straightened his jacket, brought the phone slowly to his ear and spoke.

"Find out what really happened

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