Is the fuzzy ball hanging from the hospital curtain some kind of trend or decoration that appeared during the years I wasn't conscious?

  I suppose it will take me some time to catch up with the years I missed.

  "Brother… what is that hanging ball?"

  "What ball?"

  I pointed toward its place, guiding their eyes with my finger.

  "There."

  They stared at the window for a long moment, but their expressions suggested they were searching for something they simply couldn't find.

  "…That black ball. Can't you see it?"

  My father stepped closer to the window, trying to locate the thing I was pointing at.

  "There's nothing there."

  "It's not on the window. It's hanging from the curtain… yes… closer… to the left… there—!"

  My father's hand passed straight through it.

  I couldn't comprehend what I had just seen.

  Perhaps I hadn't survived completely unharmed after all.

  When I rubbed my tired eyes and opened them again, there was nothing there—

  as if it had been a mirage, or a shadow.

  It was gone.

  No…

  maybe it hadn't disappeared at all.

  Maybe there had never been anything there to begin with.

  "I'm sorry… I didn't see clearly."

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  They were worried enough already. There was no need to add more.

  "Get some rest. You must be in shock after the sudden news,"

  my mother said in a tense voice.

  She then exchanged a meaningful look with my father by the window, and my brother standing beside my bed—a look heavy with unspoken understanding—before gently ushering them toward the door and leaving the room.

  No matter how long I've been asleep, Mother,

  I still know what that look means.

  I decided to sleep for a while.

  Maybe I really was exhausted.

  The last thing I remember from that day was my parents' and brother's voices, muffled from behind the door.

  ...

  The days at the hospital passed peacefully.

  During the remaining days of my stay, I often went down to the hospital garden.

  The doctor said walking would help ease the stiffness caused by my long sleep.

  "The test results and scans are out. Everything looks fine,"

  the doctor reassured my mother.

  And finally, I could go home—and truly rest.

  I got dressed and stood in front of the car that would take me back.

  I hadn't known my father owned a car.

  …So much had changed over the years.

  ...

  We finally arrived.

  At least our house still looked the way I remembered it.

  The wind carried the scent of the trees my brother and I used to climb when we were children.

  The iron gate’s hinges groaned with the same rusty screech I remembered—a familiar alarm that felt more like a welcome than a warning. Some things, it seemed, refused to let the years change them.

  My father had bought a car, yet he still hadn't fixed the gate.

  A small smile crossed my face.

  Yes… I prefer it this way.

  People may have changed—my brother more mature, my father with a new car—but the house was still the house.

  We passed through the gate, my brother walking ahead, carrying my small bag and the apartment key.

  "Mariam, there's someone I want you to meet. Don't be surprised, and please understand that I delayed telling you for your sake, alright?"

  He finally opened the apartment door.

  How much I longed to rest on my bed.

  ...!!!

  "Who is this?"

  "She's the person I wanted you to meet, Mariam.

  This is my wife—Huda. Your sister-in-law."

  "Hello."

  I didn't respond. I didn't even blink.

  Three years had passed, yes—but still…

  So much had changed.

  I glanced at my brother again.

  Is that why he seemed more mature?

  Everyone had changed during these years.

  So much had happened.

  I was the only one who hadn't changed at all.

  "It will be… difficult for me to adapt to all of this."

  The woman named Huda—my brother's wife. Yes, overnight I had gained a sister-in-law—looked embarrassed as she extended her hand to greet me. I didn't return the warmth.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but… it's hard for me to process all these changes."

  I shook her hand belatedly.

  "…I understand."

  I noticed the exchange of glances between my brother and my mother.

  …Those looks again.

  I dug my fingers into my palm.

  I used to think I knew what they meant.

  Now, I'm no longer sure of anything I know.

  My mother hurried over to us.

  "I'll prepare lunch. Huda, can you help me?

  Mariam, go take a refreshing shower before we eat. I'll call you when we're done."

  "…Alright."

  I went to my room.

  There's something comforting about familiarity—

  you'll never feel that kind of peace anywhere in the world the way you do in your own room.

  Time seemed to have stopped here.

  My desk—spotless.

  My tools—exactly where I had left them.

  My bed, the same sheets and blanket, just as I had left them that day.

  My posters on the wall, unchanged… it was strangely pleasant to look at them one by one.

  And the black fuzzy ball hanging by the window.

  It was still there, just as—

  !!!!!!!!!

  What…?????