Updated Feb 23, 2026 • ~8 min read
POV: Celeste
I’m dancing.
The studio is full of light. Music pours through the speakers—something classical, sweeping, beautiful.
My body moves without thought. Extensions. Pirouettes. Leaps that feel like flying.
This is where I belong. In motion. In music. Free.
“Celeste!”
Someone’s calling my name.
“Celeste, wake up!”
But I don’t want to wake up. I want to keep dancing.
“She’s responding! Get Dr. Hayes!”
My eyes open.
Everything is white. Blindingly white.
I try to sit up but my body won’t cooperate. My muscles feel like they’ve been asleep for weeks.
“Easy,” a woman says. A nurse. “You’ve been through a lot. Take it slow.”
I blink. Try to focus.
I’m in a hospital room.
Why am I in a hospital?
“What happened?” My voice is a croak. Raw and painful.
“You were in an accident. But you’re okay now. You’re awake.”
Accident.
The car. The intersection. Headlights coming too fast.
Oh God.
“My husband,” I gasp. “Dominic. Is he—”
“He’s fine. We’ve already called him. He’s on his way.”
Relief floods through me.
Dominic’s okay. Thank God.
“What day is it?”
“June 14th.”
Our anniversary. We were supposed to have dinner. Celebrate five years of marriage.
“I ruined our anniversary,” I say.
The nurse exchanges a look with another staff member.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” she says gently. “Just rest. The doctor will be here soon.”
Dr. Hayes arrives twenty minutes later.
He’s young. Kind eyes. The type of doctor who actually seems to care.
“Mrs. Ashford. Welcome back. How are you feeling?”
“Confused. Tired. What happened to me?”
“You were in a severe car accident. You suffered head trauma and have been in a medically induced coma while your brain healed.”
“How long?”
He hesitates.
“How long was I in a coma?”
“Let’s wait for your husband—”
“How. Long.”
Another pause.
“Five years.”
The words don’t make sense.
“Three… what?”
“Five years, Mrs. Ashford. It’s 2026, not 2021.”
No.
No, that’s not possible.
“You’re wrong. The accident was yesterday. It’s June 14th, 2021. Our anniversary.”
“It is June 14th,” he says carefully. “But it’s 2026. Five years have passed.”
“That’s not—you’re lying. Why are you lying to me?”
“I’m not lying. I know this is overwhelming. But it’s the truth.”
Five years.
Five years of my life, gone.
“I don’t believe you.”
Dr. Hayes shows me his phone. The date. The year.
Then a mirror.
I look older. Thinner. My hair is longer. There are lines around my eyes that weren’t there before.
“Oh God.”
“It’s okay—”
“It’s not okay! I lost five years! Where did they go? What happened?”
“You were here. In this facility. Your body was kept alive while your brain healed. And now you’re awake. That’s incredible, Celeste. This almost never happens.”
“I don’t care about incredible. I care about my LIFE. Five years? That’s—I’m thirty-three now? I was supposed to be twenty-eight. I was supposed to—”
My dance career.
I was building something. Building a name. Teaching at the conservatory. Choreographing. Living my dream.
Five years gone.
Am I even still a dancer?
I try to move my legs.
They barely respond.
“My legs—”
“Muscle atrophy,” Dr. Hayes explains. “From five years of immobility. You’ll need extensive physical therapy. But you can recover. Relearn everything.”
Relearn.
Relearn how to walk. To move. To dance.
If I even can dance again.
“This isn’t happening.”
“I know it’s a lot to process—”
“A LOT? I lost five years! My career is gone! My body doesn’t work! Everything I was is just—GONE!”
I’m crying now. Hard, choking sobs.
Dr. Hayes hands me tissues.
“Where’s Dominic?” I demand. “I need Dominic.”
“He’s on his way. He should be here any minute.”
“He stayed. Right? Even though I was in a coma. He waited for me.”
The doctor’s face does something weird.
“He visited you,” he says carefully. “Very often, in the beginning.”
In the beginning.
“What does that mean?”
“Maybe we should wait—”
“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?”
Dr. Hayes sighs.
“Your husband was told you’d never wake up. That you were in a persistent vegetative state with no hope of recovery. He had to… move forward with his life.”
Move forward.
“Did he remarry?”
Silence.
Oh God.
“Did he REMARRY?”
“That’s something you should discuss with him—”
“ANSWER ME!”
“I don’t know the details of his personal life,” Dr. Hayes says. “But I do know he’s on his way here. He wants to see you. That’s what matters.”
He’s lying. I can tell.
Dominic moved on. Found someone else. Maybe even remarried.
Because I was dead to him.
Five years in a coma might as well be death.
“I want to be alone,” I whisper.
“Mrs. Ashford—”
“Please. Just—please.”
Dr. Hayes nods. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
He leaves.
I’m alone in this hospital room with my broken body and my stolen years and the horrifying possibility that my husband doesn’t love me anymore.
How could he?
I’m not the woman he married.
That Celeste was vibrant and strong and whole.
This Celeste is a broken thing that slept through five years of life.
When Dominic finally arrives, I pretend to be happy.
“You’re here,” I say.
He looks… different. Older. Sadder. There’s gray at his temples that wasn’t there before.
Five years did that.
“I’m here,” he says. “I’m so sorry. About everything.”
“It’s okay. You’re here now.”
I want to ask. About the five years. About whether he moved on. Whether there’s someone else.
But I’m terrified of the answer.
So instead I just hold his hand.
“I had the craziest dream,” I lie. “I dreamed I was in the hospital forever. That I couldn’t wake up. But I could hear you. Every time you visited. Every word you said.”
It’s not entirely a lie.
There were moments. Fragments. Voices in the dark.
His voice, mostly.
Telling me he loved me. That he missed me.
But also—
Other things. Darker things.
Words like “goodbye” and “moving on” and “I’m sorry.”
Did I dream those? Or did I hear them?
“Happy anniversary, baby,” I say. “Sorry I’m late.”
He looks stricken.
Like I said something wrong.
But before I can ask, exhaustion crashes over me.
“I’m so tired. Will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”
“Of course.”
He sits on the bed. Holds my hand.
And I fall asleep feeling safe for the first time since I woke up.
I wake up alone.
Dominic is gone.
A nurse comes in. Different one from before.
“Where’s my husband?”
“He left a few hours ago. Said he’d be back tomorrow.”
A few hours.
He stayed a few hours and then left.
“Did he… did he say anything?”
“Just that he’d be back.” The nurse checks my vitals. “You have visitors, by the way. Your friend Nina has been calling non-stop.”
Nina. My best friend.
At least someone didn’t give up on me.
“Can I see her?”
“Tomorrow. You need to rest tonight.”
Rest.
I’ve been resting for five years.
I need answers. Not rest.
“Can I have my phone?”
“I don’t think you have one here. It’s been five years—”
“Right. Of course.”
Five years means my old phone is useless. My contacts probably gone. My whole digital life erased.
“Can I use a computer? Or a tablet? I need to… I need to see what I missed.”
The nurse hesitates.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea tonight. Dr. Hayes wants you to ease into things.”
“I don’t want to ease into things. I want to know what happened to my life!”
“Mrs. Ashford, please calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! I lost five years! I have a right to know what happened!”
“Of course you do. But overwhelming yourself tonight won’t help. Tomorrow, okay? Tomorrow we can get you a tablet, you can make calls, figure things out. But tonight, please. Just rest.”
I want to argue.
But exhaustion pulls at me again.
Five years in a coma must mean my body still needs sleep. Still needs to heal.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” she agrees.
She leaves.
I lie in the dark, staring at the ceiling.
Somewhere out there, Dominic is going home.
To what? Our apartment? A different place?
Is someone waiting for him?
Did he really move on?
The thought makes me want to scream.
I’m his wife.
We made vows. Forever. In sickness and health.
This is sickness. Coma is definitely sickness.
So where is he?
Why did he leave?
Tomorrow, I’ll find out everything.
Tomorrow, I’ll get my life back.
Or what’s left of it.
END OF CHAPTER 3
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