Page 181 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

They hadn’t found her at first. The firefighters were still sweeping the building when someone realized she wasn’t outside with the rest of the staff. Not in the crowd. Not answering her phone.

She was still inside.

They found her in the bathroom, the door shut behind her. They had to break it down, and when they did, smoke came rolling out in a thick, suffocating wave, swallowing the doorway.

Naija was on the floor just inside, collapsed near the door. Unconscious.

The firefighters said the bathroom must have filled quickly once the ventilation system carried smoke through the building. The closed door sealed her in with it. If she’d stayed in there too long—

I stopped that thought before it could finish.

The Garcias had been escorted home. By morning, the media would have a field day with this—Garcia’s first collaboration, a fire, casualties. The story would write itself. The damage would be counted in dollars and reputational loss. Repairs, business losses, cancellations, the brand. Everything we’d spent years building, reduced to numbers and headlines for the next few weeks.

I couldn’t find a single part of me that cared.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing but Naija.

My eyes stayed locked on the door.

Felicity hadn’t been there at the launch—work had kept her away. Liam had gone to get her while Cassian came for me. Rohan had stayed behind at the hospital.

Now she sat beside me, shaking with silent sobs, leaning so heavily against my shoulder that I could feel each shudder travel through her, small and involuntary, while her tears soaked slowly through the thin fabric of my top. My hand moved in slow, repetitive circles on her back—trying to calm her, trying to calm myself, trying to do something with the restlessness trapped inside me. I had stopped measuring time. Minutes had become indistinguishable from hours, which was probably how panic worked when it had nowhere to go.

Liam sat on her other side, a handkerchief folded neatly in his hand, waiting for the moment she would need it.

Across from us, Rohan stood near the door. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw set, his eyes flicking to the door every few seconds like he could will it open through sheer intensity.

Cassian stood beside my chair. The only time I noticed him leave was when, sometime later, he disappeared without a word and came back carrying a pair of sneakers. My size, without asking. He placed them at my feet. I slipped them on without looking at him, without taking my eyes off the door, without even registering the little mercy of warmth returning to my toes until some numb part of me noticed that my feet were no longer cold.

No one spoke. There was nothing to say.

The doors finally opened.

We were all on our feet before it fully swung wide.

A doctor stepped out, her expression carefully neutral. She looked between us briefly, then spoke.

“She’s stable.”

I felt the words like oxygen. Like I’d been holding my breath since Cassian appeared at my door and only now, finally, was allowed to let it out.

Felicity let out a sob of relief beside me, her body sagging against me. Liam pressed the handkerchief into her hand without a word, his own shoulders dropping a fraction.

“She inhaled significant smoke. She was unconscious on arrival, but she’s breathing on her own now, no intubation needed. We’ve had her on high-flow oxygen since she came in, and her oxygen saturation is holding steady.”

My throat tightened. Unconscious. Smoke inhalation. The words were clinical, but the images they conjured were not.

“Is she awake?” Rohan’s voice was rough, strained.

“She regained consciousness about fifteen minutes ago,” the doctor said. “She’s groggy and disoriented, which is normal after this kind of exposure. Smoke inhalation puts an enormous strain on the body, particularly when oxygen levels have been compromised, and for a while it can affect cognitive function too. She needs rest. We’ll keep her here tonight, most likely through tomorrow, just to be safe. We’ll monitor her oxygen saturation and keep an eye out for any delayed swelling in her airways.”

“Can we see her?” Felicity asked.

“You can. One or two at a time.” The doctor gave a small nod and disappeared back through the doors.

Felicity wiped at her cheeks. Her eyes were red-rimmed when they found mine.