I woke up with fragments of memory still swirling in my head. The flashes of that yacht party, the champagne, the cold water... they felt distant yet painfully real. My hand automatically went to my stomach, a protective gesture that was becoming instinctive.
"You want to talk about what you remembered?" Hazel asked softly, noticing my faraway look.
"I fell overboard that night," I murmured, stirring the remaining soup absentmindedly. "Someone pushed me. I'm certain of it."
Hazel's eyes widened, her hand trembling as she set down her spoon. "Pushed? Are you saying someone deliberately—"
"I can't be sure," I interrupted, not wanting to upset her further. "Everything's still so fuzzy. Maybe I just lost my balance."
But deep down, I felt it. That sudden force against my back
