Page 167 of Hidden Echoes

“Mia,” the voice breaks through the fog in my mind, and I blink, snapping out of my trance.

I look up from my coloring book in the garden, a habit I’ve kept, even after realizing that what I created in my head brought me peace, calm.

The picture I’m coloring—a face, a man doll—yellow hair, green eyes, pink lips, flushed cheeks.

Exactly like him. Exactly how I imagine him in my head.

“Mia,” the voice calls again, sharper this time.

I turn slowly to face Dr. Easton Icaza. My chest tightens. I hate him. Everything about his presence makes something deep inside me scream to run. But I smile.

“Doctor.” My voice is steady, but it trembles underneath, longing too hard to keep hidden.

Dr. Icaza’s eyes narrow as he observes me, his gaze calculating and cold. I can feel the weight of his presence, like an iron chain wrapping itself around my chest, pulling at me.

He takes a step forward, his polished shoes making a sound that echoes too loudly in the silence. The garden feels smaller, more suffocating.

“I’ve been calling you for a while,” he says, his voice clipped, almost impatient. He leans in slightly, as though trying to read something beneath my carefully constructed calm. “You’re zoning out again. It’s not healthy.”

I can barely hear him over the rushing of my blood in my ears.

All I can think about is Zane. His face, his laugh, the way his eyes used to soften when they found mine. It’s so vivid, so real in my mind that it almost hurts, like a deep, unhealable wound. And yet, here I am, trapped in this reality, trying to hold on to the fragments of a life that was never mine to begin with.

“I’m fine, Doctor,” I say, my voice coming out smoother than I feel. “Just… lost in thought.”

His lip curls in something that might be amusement, but I don’t care. I want him gone. I want this moment to stop, to rewind, to let me live in that beautiful illusion where Zane still exists, where the world is mine to shape.

“Lost in thought,” he repeats, his tone dry. “Or lost in delusion?”

I flinch at his words, but I don’t let it show.

Instead, I look down at my coloring book, at the doll’s face staring back at me—yellow hair, green eyes, pink lips, flushed cheeks. Zane.

It’s all I have left of him.

So I keep repeating it in my head.

“Maybe a little of both,” I murmur, my fingers gripping the color pencil tighter, as though it might anchor me to something real.

Something I can hold on to.

“When they told me you were coming back to society, I couldn’t believe it.” His tone so diplomatic it makes my skin crawl.

“I will” I murmur, letting the words fall flat between us.

“I’d like to do a few checkups later. I’ve already forwarded the request to your father,” he continues, his voice too smooth.

“As if my father cares about my health,” I snap, a bitterness I can’t hide in my voice. “Besides, Paulina who approves these things.”

“No. I’ll stay responsible as your guardian. Paulina is no longer living here—she’s in a new home somewhere else. I don’t actually see her much anymore,” he says, the words laced with an unsettling finality.

Zane was my guardian.

But Zane was also not real.

The thought of him swells my chest, a brief moment of warmth amidst the storm of emotions that batter me.

"Then that means you're my newest nanny?" I say, my voice sharp, exasperated. Dr. Icaza smiles, but it’s a smile so wicked it feels like a physical weight on my chest.

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