Shattered vow

The next time I saw the couple, they walked in looking like they'd been through an emotional rollercoaster. Mrs. Evans sat at the edge of my bed, gently taking my hands in hers.

"You must be so confused, sweetheart," she said softly.

"That's an understatement," I muttered, shifting under the covers.

She hesitated, her fingers squeezing mine. "Honey, there's something you should know."

Something about her tone made my stomach tighten.

"We... we're not actually your parents."

Okay. That was a plot twist.

"What... what do you mean?" The words barely left my lips before my throat closed up. I don't know why it hurt, like a part of me actually wanted them to be. If they weren't my parents, then who was I?

Mr. Evans sighed, his expression serious. "Two years ago, we found you unconscious near our farm. No ID, no phone. Just... there, as if you'd fallen from the sky."

My stomach twisted.

"You were barely breathing," Mrs. Evans continued. "We rushed you here, and you've been in a coma ever since."

I frowned, trying to grasp the weight of their words. "No one came looking for me?"

They exchanged a glance.

"The police investigated," Mr. Evans said carefully. "No missing person report matched your description."

No missing person report matched my description. That didn't make sense. People didn't just disappear without someone noticing. Not a friend? A coworker? A neighbor? My pulse pounded in my ears. Did I even have a family?

I felt an ache deep in my heart. Who am I? I had been missing for two years, and no one had even filed a missing person report? My emotions scattered inside me, crashing into one another like waves in a storm. As my heart rate spiked, the monitor beside me started beeping faster.

Damn it. Betrayal.

"The doctor said you don't remember anything, including your name," Mrs. Evans said gently, rubbing my hands as if trying to calm me down.

Mr. Evans suddenly smiled. "Ella did name you, though."

Mrs. Evans nodded, her eyes warm. "I didn't want you to be nameless, so I decided to call you Sara. Silly me." She chuckled softly.

Sara.

I tested it on my tongue. It didn't feel familiar, but it also wasn't completely foreign. Like a sweater borrowed from someone else—soft, warm, but not quite mine.

"I like it, I said with a small smile. "Better than being called 'Hey, you!" They both laughed, the tension in the room easing slightly.

I swallowed hard, "So... you found me. You took care of me for two years?"

Mrs. Evans nodded, her eyes glistening again. "We couldn't just leave you, sweetheart. And over time... we started seeing you as family."

"Thank you," I added, gratitude swelling in my chest. The fact that they had taken me in, cared for me, and never gave up on me... it said a lot about the kind of people they were.

"Oh, come on," Mrs. Evans said, pressing a kiss to my palm. "We're just glad you're alive and that our efforts didn't go to waste."

Mrs. Evans hesitated before speaking, glancing at Mr. Evans for reassurance. "We were wondering... if you'd like to stay with us until you recover your memory. I mean, I don't think you're from this town—no one here seems to know you."

I blinked. "You would do that?" My voice came out smaller than I intended. They both nodded without hesitation.

"Of course, sweetheart," Mrs. Evans said, squeezing my hand.

A lump formed in my throat. "But... wouldn't I be a burden? I mean, you've already taken care of me for two years, and I don't even know when...if....I'll get my memories back. It could take years."

Mr. Evans shook his head. "You won't be a burden. But if you'd rather not, we understand. We just want you to know that you're welcome with us. We don't mind at all."

That was it. The dam broke.

Tears welled in my eyes and spilled over before I could stop them. "Thank you," I choked out, my voice breaking mid-sob.

Mrs. Evans let out a watery laugh, brushing my tears away with her thumbs. "Oh, darling, don't cry," she said, though she was tearing up, too. "We're your family now—until you remember yours."

Mrs. Evans smiled through her tears, but something lingered in her eyes-hesitation, uncertainty. Her fingers curled around her purse as if debating something. Finally, she took a breath and reached inside her purse.

"Oh, and... Her voice was careful."This was the only thing you had on you when we found you.

"A bracelet?" I asked, my brows furrowing.

Mrs. Evans nodded. "Yes, sweetheart. Your clothes were tattered and stained with blood, but this... this was the only thing you had on you."

She held up a delicate gold bracelet. It looked old, worn with time, yet something about it felt important. There was an inscription on the inside—letters, maybe words—but they were too faded for me to read.

A strange, uneasy feeling crept up my spine. Was this mine? Was it valuable?

Was it a family heirloom... or just a random piece of jewelry?

"Can I see it?" I asked, reaching out.

"Of course," Mrs. Evans said, placing it in my hand.

The second my fingers brushed against the metal, something inside me snapped. A force—violent and overwhelming—rushed through my head like a dam breaking. Pain. Blinding, splitting pain. A flash of red. A scream. A hand reaching for me-rough, desperate—before I was falling. Images flickered in my mind, too fast to grasp.

My body convulsed, muscles seizing as if struck by lightning. A scent-sharp, metallic-filled my nose. Blood? My pulse thundered, too fast, too loud.

"Sara?" Mrs. Evans' voice wavered in panic.

My vision blurred. The walls tilted. The world spun.

"Evans! Get the doctor!" she cried.

"Sara! Sara!"

A sharp ringing filled my ears, drowning out the voices. The last thing I heard before the darkness swallowed me whole was my name—one I wasn't even sure belonged to me.

Voila!

What do you think the bracelet means?

Also, just a little reminder—this humble writer has a fragile heart, so please be kind with your comments!