Chapter 20: Practically Family

After the doctor checked Gray’s vitals and shared his usual round of hopeful-but-clinical updates, he quietly excused himself. Charles and Vivienne followed not long after, leaving with soft goodbyes and a quiet promise to return in the evening. But Isabel and Zach didn’t budge. They lingered, chatting lightly with Amelia, occasionally throwing a glance toward Gray as though they were waiting to see something—anything—shift. “Okay,” Zach finally declared, checking the time on his phone. “It’s officially been long enough since lunch. I vote we go hunt food. What do you want, Lia?” Amelia blinked. “Oh—I’m okay, really. I brought biscuits.” Zach stared. “Biscuits?” “Like cookies?” Isabel asked, eyebrows rising. “No, like… the kind with oats and seeds. Granola-ish.” Amelia pulled a small tin from her bag, her voice sheepish. “And I’ve got a few granola bars, too. I’ll be fine. If I get hungry later, I’ll just hit the vending machine.” Zach looked personally offended. Isabel gasped like someone had insulted her interior design skills. “Excuse me,” she said, pointing dramatically. “You’re not just some visitor with trail mix. You’re practically family now.” “Which means,” Zach added, “no more shy-shy snacks from a metal coil machine. We’re getting real food. Hot food. Possibly spicy food. And you’re eating with us.” Amelia laughed, caught somewhere between flustered and touched. “I don’t want to be a bother—” “You’re literally the opposite of a bother,” Isabel said, grabbing her coat. “You brought The Secret Garden and you draw like an angel. If anything, we should be feeding you daily.” “She probably feeds herself,” Zach muttered. “On seeds and moonlight.” Amelia covered her laugh with her hand, cheeks coloring. Zach gave her a wink. “We’ll be back. Don’t eat that vending machine dinner. I mean it.” She held up both hands. “Okay, okay.” Isabel was already halfway out the door. “Save your appetite. And think dessert.” When the door finally closed behind them, the room fell into a quieter kind of peace. The kind that wrapped around her like a soft blanket. Amelia looked toward Gray. He hadn’t moved. Not really. But still… Something about him felt less far away today. She shifted to the chair by his side and pulled her legs up beneath her. “So,” she said gently, “I know this is technically a one-sided conversation, but I’m told those still count around here.” She glanced at his face — peaceful, still — and smiled. “Today was a good day. Isabel came with me to the community center. You would’ve laughed at how fast she and Jess clicked. I think Jess may have tried to recruit her into volunteering full-time.” She let out a soft chuckle, the memory still fresh. “Oh—and the kids? Wild as usual. But they’re obsessed with building things lately. Jess and I gave them cardboard, tape, string. You’d think we handed them gold.” Her fingers drifted to the edge of the sketchpad in her lap. “Isabel said you like building stuff too. So maybe—when you wake up—you can help them build their castle. Or pirate ship. Or space station. Whatever mood they’re in that day.” She paused, tilted her head, then added in a mock-whisper: “Fair warning, they’re pretty territorial about their glue sticks.” Her voice fell softer, a little more serious. “I’d really like you to come. You don’t have to. But… it’d be nice.” From outside the room, behind the two-way observation glass, Charles stood beside Vivienne once again. Dr. Levin had returned and stood near them quietly. None of them spoke. They simply watched. Watched as Amelia leaned closer, gently repositioning a corner of Gray’s blanket. Watched as she held her sketchpad on her knees and started to draw again—small strokes, her expression focused, peaceful. “She’s not afraid of the silence,” Vivienne whispered. “No,” Charles said. “She speaks into it.” Inside, Amelia finished the last lines of her drawing, then looked at Gray again, her expression soft. “I hope you don’t mind all this,” she murmured. “Me being here. I know I sort of… arrived out of nowhere. But I’m trying not to be a stranger. Just someone who believes you’ll come back.” Then she smiled to herself. “Also, if you do wake up soon… can you pretend I look cooler than I actually do in this sweater? I picked comfort today. But I might’ve overdone it.” She reached into her bag and pulled out the book, curling into the chair beside him, opening it with practiced ease. Behind the glass, no one said a word. But in that small room, under the low hum of machines and the golden hush of late afternoon, the future began to feel like something more than hope. It felt like a promise.