Chapter 1 – Invisible

Anna What would you do if a disheveled woman walked through your front door sobbing? Any decent human being would ask: “Who are you?” “Why are you crying?” “What are you doing here?” Or the heartless would kick her out immediately. But not him. He simply looked up and down between me and his book. No further reaction. No acknowledgment. No care. No matter how much I prayed for concern—any flicker of it—I got nothing. I broke. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I’ve been this past year?!” I spoke up—for the first time in my life. Silence. Like always. Furious, I stormed over and flipped the coffee table. Magazines flew, and hot liquid splattered across the floor in a messy stain. He didn’t flinch. He simply glanced at the spilled coffee... then stood up. “Clean it up,” he said. Three words. The first in two decades. That’s how long it had been since I last heard his voice. “Why?” I grabbed his arm, desperate—pleading—not for the mess on the floor, but for an answer… for anything. Something. Why bring me here just to tear me down like I don’t exist? Why not just give me up for adoption? Fed up with what he probably sees as a tantrum, the man stood abruptly, grabbed his keys, and like always—he went for a drive to escape. Not this time. I wasn’t going to let him disappear without giving me the answers I’ve begged for in silence. I grabbed hold of him, holding on with every ounce of strength I had. But strength means little when you’re up against a six-foot wall of indifference. He shoved me aside effortlessly, and walked out. I fell on the floor but refused to be ignored. I got right back up and after him, planting myself in front of the slowly moving car. I existed, right here, right now, in the one place he couldn’t pretend not to see me. But he didn’t yell. He didn’t argue. He didn’t acknowledge. Instead, he looked right at me—and then looked away. His car shifted in reverse, steering around me like I was just another obstacle in his path. He saw me. And yet somehow…I was invisible. “Why?” I asked, my voice breaking, desperation pouring from my lips as I fell to my knees—begging for answers. BOOM! My head snapped up. His eyes—locked on mine. His car—suspended in the air for a fleeting, horrifying second before crashing back down. For the first time… I existed. For the first time, there was something in his eyes other than emptiness. Recognition - something real. But it was too late. “Help! Someone help!” I screamed, scrambling to my feet and rushing toward him, heart hammering in my chest, panic clawing at my throat. When I reached the upturned car, I saw him—covered in blood. So much blood, I thought he was already gone. Then he moved. A quiet groan escaped him, barely audible over the chaos in my chest. I didn’t hesitate—I rushed to the door. “Help!” I screamed, frantically trying to pry it open. By some miracle, it was unlocked. The door creaked ajar, and with every ounce of strength my 5'5" frame could muster, I pulled him out. We hadn’t gotten far—barely a few feet—when I heard it. Another explosion. A force so strong, it hurled me forward—then darkness. As I lay there, motionless, I could feel the cold blades of grass beneath me, hear distant dogs barking, panicked voices shouting, sirens wailing—even the faint chirping of crickets from far away. The chaos swirled around me, overwhelming, until my mind went blank—and I sank deeper into the silence. The next thing I knew was pain—everywhere. My head throbbed like it had been hit with a hammer, again and again. I tried to open my eyes, only to squeeze them shut again as blinding light pierced through. “Dr. Marlin, she's awake,” I heard a woman's voice say nearby. I forced my eyes open again, slower this time. After a few failed attempts, I managed to keep them open. The first thought that crossed my mind was, He’s not as good-looking as a certain someone. But the second that thought formed, I regretted it—instantly. “Can you hear me?” the elderly doctor asked. “What?” I murmured, groaning as the headache intensified. “Where… where am I?” “Harmony Hospital,” he answered gently. “You were involved in an accident. Do you remember anything?” “Accident…” The word echoed in my head, and after a few more moments, the memories came rushing back all at once. On instinct, I shot upright—only to collapse back into the bed as a wave of searing pain exploded in my skull. “Calm down. You’re in no condition to get up,” the nurse warned, gently but firmly easing me back down. “Where is Mr. Hamburg?” I asked weakly. “He’s recovering after surgery,” the nurse replied. “Surgery? What? What day is it today?” “Tuesday,” she answered calmly. Five days. I’ve been out for five days. My head throbbed as I struggled to piece everything together. “Take me to see Mr. Hamburg,” I demanded. “He’s recovering,” the doctor replied, casting a disapproving look my way. “Please, I need to see him,” I insisted, my voice trembling with urgency. The doctor finally relented. “After a thorough check-up, Sue will take you.” Once I was cleared of any serious injuries, Sue helped me into a wheelchair and led me down the hall. That’s when I was introduced to the senior doctor—Dr. Weld. “How is he?” I asked, peering through the small window that framed the unconscious man inside. Even now, seeing him like this, I was still too afraid to go near him. We were never close to begin with—so I didn’t know why I even cared. “We were able to save his life,” Dr. Weld began, his voice steady but solemn, “but the impact of the crash bruised the part of his brain that controls major motor functions. As a result, that part has completely shut down. I’m afraid he won’t be able to move, speak… or hear you.” “Is he brain dead?” I asked. “Not quite,” Dr. Weld replied. “Some parts of his brain have shut down as a protective measure in response to trauma. The rest of his brain is still functioning. However, if left untreated, he’s at risk of complete shutdown.” “Left untreated? What do you mean?” I asked, confused. “Let’s discuss this in my office,” he said. Dr. Weld guided me into his office and gestured for me to sit across from him. “Your father is in critical condition. At his age, without immediate treatment, there’s a high risk that his brain could shut down completely. The last time your mother was here, she informed us that your family couldn’t afford the necessary treatment.” Money problem? “That can’t be,” I said in disbelief. “He’s Mr. Hamburg, CEO of Lucky Star,” I added, almost offended. “Calm down. I’m simply relaying what your mother told us,” Dr. Weld replied, his tone calm and even. “She’s his wife, but she’s not my mother.” I corrected firmly. “Can I borrow your phone?” Dr. Weld nodded and stepped out of the room. The phone rang as I waited, patient but tense. She hung up. I dialed again. It took four more tries before Darla finally answered—angrily. “Hello,” Darla answered, her tone sharp. I could hear music and chatter in the background—clearly at a party. No wonder she didn’t want to answer me. “It’s Anna. We need to talk,” I said firmly. “Took you long enough. I’ll be there in two hours,” she replied—and hung up before I could say another word. Once that was done, I went back to take a quick glance at Mr. Hamburg before returning to the ward to play the waiting game.