Chapter 2

"Found her. Lily, nineteen years old. Admitted to the ophthalmology ward at St. Jude’s. Retinoblastoma, terminal."

Chloe's voice message echoed in the empty hallway, and I quickly turned down the volume.

"My cousin is an intern in that department. She said Lily’s brother visits her almost every day. Every time he leaves, his eyes are red from crying."

"Also, her doctor issued a notice to the family last week. They strongly recommend surgically removing both of her eyes as soon as possible."

Surgical removal of both eyes.

In my past life, that surgery never happened because Lily’s tumor miraculously shrank and vanished right after I died.

And the price for that miracle was the life of a twenty-three-year-old girl.

I skipped my afternoon lectures and went straight to St. Jude’s.

The nurses at the front desk didn't stop me. I gave them Lily’s name, and they let me right in.

The hospital room was quiet. She was lying in the bed by the window, her hair cropped extremely short, her eyes covered in heavy white gauze. Her arms were so thin that the IV tube looked thick in comparison.

Hearing my footsteps, she turned her head slightly.

"Ethan?"

"No, I’m one of your brother's classmates. Just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing."

"Ethan’s classmate?" She paused, thinking. "What's your name?"

"Clara."

A solid second of silence. Then, a sweet smile spread across her face.

"Clara! You're the girl who sits next to my brother, right?"

My heart rate spiked.

I had never sat in that seat.

"Did your brother mention me?"

"Yeah. He said he saves a seat for you every day, and that you'd be sitting there from now on."

Her tone was incredibly certain, as if she were describing something that had already happened.

"Why is he so sure I'll sit there?"

"Because it’s the best seat in the library. Why wouldn't you, Clara?"

Her smile was sweet.

Way too sweet.

We talked for a few more minutes. Her conversation always revolved around one specific topic.

"How is your vision, Clara? Do you need glasses?"

"Your eyes sound so bright. Have you never worn glasses in your life?"

"If you suddenly went blind one day, what would be the last thing you'd want to see?"

That last question was so sudden and eerie that goosebumps broke out from my arms all the way to the back of my neck.

"Why would you ask something like that?"

"Because I'm about to lose my sight," she said. Underneath the gauze, I couldn't see her expression, but her voice remained sugary sweet. "But my brother said he has a way to save me. He said I won't have to get my eyes scooped out."

The hum of the hallway heater suddenly sounded incredibly loud and distorted.

"What way?"

"Ethan said I can't tell anyone." She reached her hand out, clawing at the empty air. "Clara, can you come a little closer? I want to feel your face."

I took a step back.

"I should go. It's getting late. I’ll visit you another time."

The moment I stepped out of the hospital, the cold wind rushed down my collar. I looked down at my hands—they were drenched in sweat.

Lily knew. She wasn't just a passive patient waiting for treatment. She knew exactly what her brother was doing.

Her words, *“you'd be sitting there from now on,”* weren’t a guess. It was a plan.

I took a cab back to campus.

The moment I pushed open my dorm room door, something felt off.

The pen holder on my desk had been moved two inches. It used to be flush against the corner, but now it was sitting in the middle.

I searched my backpack, my pillow, and my nightstand.

And there, inside my MCAT prep notebook, pressed between two pages, was a transparent red film.

It was identical to the one under the library chair.

He had been in my room.

"Ashley, did anyone come by today?" I asked my roommate, who was lying in bed with a face mask on, scrolling through TikTok.

"Oh, Ethan stopped by. He said he was dropping off some study guides for you."

"Who let him in?"

"He said he already texted you about it. He came all this way to help you, why are you acting like this? What's wrong?"

I clenched the red sigil in my hand, my fingernails digging deep into my palm.

"From now on, I don't care who comes looking for me, or what excuse they use. Do not let anyone into this room. Do you hear me?!"

"Whoa, chill. Is it really that big of a deal?"

"Do you hear me?!"

"...Fine, fine. Your room, your rules."

I got into bed, wrapped the sigil in a tissue, and sealed it in a Ziploc bag.

When I unlocked my phone to read a few pages of a PDF, the words seemed covered in a thin fog.

I rubbed my eyes, but it didn't help. The text was still blurry.

I couldn't tell if it was psychological, or if it was already too late.

A notification popped up. It was a text from Ethan.

*“Why weren't you at the library today? I didn't see you. Just wanted to check in. Are you feeling okay?”*

I typed: *I'm fine.*

Then I deleted it and wrote: *“Just a bit of a cold. How did you know I wasn't there?”*

*“I waited for you all day.”*

I checked his Instagram. He had posted a new story. It was a photo of the chair, which had remained empty all day.

The caption: *She didn't show up today. But I'll keep waiting.*

Underneath, the account "Lily" appeared again.

This time, it wasn't just a short phrase.

She wrote a whole line: *“Ethan, hurry. I can't see the light in my right eye anymore.”*