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They wave and blow kisses as they grow fainter and fainter in the mist. The last thing I see are their beaming smiles as… as they fade away, shrouded by the fog.

I’m waving at them and blowing them kisses.

And then they’re gone. Faded in the mist.

“I should be with them,” I shout, but my words are quiet, cushioned in the mist.

Tristan shakes his head again and mouths the word no, then gives me a dazzling smile that takes my breath away. “You need to stay. You’ll be okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing.

And I wake.

Dylan was sitting on the side of the bed, shaking me. He looked ashen. Lulu stood behind him, her hands clasped together, concern marring her lovely face.

“Emily, wake up!” He sounded breathless. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll get her some water.” Lulu turned and left the room.

“I had a dream,” I murmured, disoriented.

Dylan blinked. “A dream? You were shouting. I’ve never heard you talk, let alone shout, in your sleep.”

My cheeks were wet with tears, though I wasn’t crying. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

The only emotion that registered with me was one of… elation. I grinned. I’d seen my parents and they were happy. What a relief—a sweet relief to see them, a sweet relief to know I could remember them with such clarity and in such vivid color. And to hear them. Their voices. And oh, to be wrapped in their warm loving embrace one more time.

For a dream it had felt so… real.

How strange.

Gazing around the room, I was suddenly struck by the quiet. I could hear Dylan’s anxious, shallow breathing, a bird singing an erratic song in the jungle outside, and the squeals of small children playing next door.

The white noise had gone.

Dylan grew more alarmed as he registered my rapt expression. He felt my forehead, then his fingers moved to my wrist and pressed against the pulse there. He checked his watch and frowned. Lulu returned with a glass of water and handed it to me. Smiling at her in thanks, I noted she was wearing one of Dylan’s shirts and that was all.

“I’m concerned about these sudden mood swings,” Dylan said to himself, his brow creased.

I swallowed, trying not to panic.

Oh yes, that psychiatrist is coming today.

“I’m good. It was good. I’m okay,” I reassured him and noticed for the first time that he was dressed only in pajama trousers. I had never seen him wearing so little; he was fully dressed earlier.

He went back to bed. With Lulu.

I flushed, suddenly acutely embarrassed.

“Lu, go get dressed,” he said, dismissing her, though not unkindly.

Lulu gave me a swift smile, and her eyes flickered to the framed photograph on my bedside table.

Hang on… That wasn’t there earlier—and my phone was there too.

Dylan must have brought them in when I was asleep.