The next morning, around nine o’clock, Cassidy’s phone rang. It was Georgia.
Her voice came through, excited. "Cass! Mom’s awake. Martha just called. I’m getting ready to head to the hospital now."
Cassidy’s heart leapt at the news. "Are you serious?" she asked, breathless.
"Yes! She just woke up a few minutes ago. I’m on my way there."
Cassidy thanked her and ended the call, a relieved smile already forming on her face. She turned toward Zeke, who was sitting on the sofa, focused on his laptop. His brows were furrowed as he read something on the screen—probably work-related.
She glanced at Claire, still sleeping peacefully on the bed, then walked quietly over to Zeke.
"Zeke," she said softly, "can you watch Claire for a bit? I want to check on my mom."
Zeke looked up, immediately attentive. "Of course. You can leave her with me."
Cassidy nodded, grateful. "Thank you."
Zeke had only recently learned that Cassidy’s mother, Teresa, was also being treated in the same hospital. He had thought about visiting, but held back—hesitant because of their history. He wasn’t sure if he was still welcome in that part of her life.
Cassidy left the room, heading to the room where Teresa was being cared for. It was on the same floor, just down the hall.
Zeke turned his attention back to the screen, reviewing monthly pharmaceutical sales reports. He barely got through two paragraphs before a small, sleepy voice pulled him away.
Zeke looked up immediately.
Claire’s eyes were open. She looked around slowly, confused. "Mommy?"
Zeke stood up at once and walked over. "Hey, Claire..."
When she didn’t see her mother, her lips began to tremble. "Mommy..." she whispered again, this time with a faint sob.
Zeke’s chest tightened. He crouched beside her bed, his voice gentle. "Shh... Mommy just stepped out for a bit. She’ll be back soon, sweetheart. Don’t cry, okay?"
Claire looked at him, her eyes still watery. But his voice seemed to calm her. She sniffled once, then stopped crying.
Zeke sighed in quiet relief. But now that Claire was awake and aware, he suddenly felt unsure. Awkward. This wasn’t like before at the preschool. Now he knew who she was. Now she was real—his daughter.
"Do you... want some water?" he asked, his voice unsure.
Zeke stood and walked to the side table, picking up the stainless steel tumbler Cassidy always kept nearby. He returned with it and helped Claire sip through the straw.
She drank slowly, then leaned back again.
"Where did Mommy go?" she asked.
Zeke smiled softly. "She went to see your grandma. Just a short visit."
Claire blinked at him, processing his words. "Grandma Teresa?"
The room fell quiet again. Zeke stayed by her side, unsure what to say next, but grateful he could be there for this small moment.
Claire looked at Zeke with wide, curious eyes. Still lying in her hospital bed, she tilted her head slightly on the pillow, gazing up at him. Her voice was soft as she asked,
"What’s your name, Uncle?"
Zeke was sitting beside her, close enough to hear every little breath she took. He smiled, but there was a quiet trace of sadness behind it. His eyes held something unspoken—because the little girl in front of him didn’t yet know who he really was.
"Ezekiel," he said gently. "My name is Ezekiel Salvador. But people usually call me Zeke."
Claire repeated it slowly, trying to get it right. "So your name is... Uncle Zeke?"
Zeke almost corrected her. Not uncle. I am your father.
But the words stayed locked inside. It wasn’t time. Not yet.
So instead, he nodded, the smile still faint on his lips. "Yes. Uncle Zeke."
Claire seemed content with the answer and let her head relax back onto the pillow again.
Zeke gently leaned closer, his voice low and careful.
"Does your tummy hurt, sweetheart?"
Claire shook her head slowly, her small hand resting near her stomach. "No," she whispered.
Zeke let out a small breath of relief.
But then Claire looked at him, her brows furrowing slightly.
"Why am I in the hospital?"
His whole body went stiff, his eyes locking onto hers. Confused. Innocent. No trace of fear. No trace of the memory.
He studied her face, searching for a hint—any sign she might remember what happened.
"You... don’t remember?" he asked carefully.
Claire shook her head again. "No," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Did I get sick?"
Zeke’s heart twisted. For a brief second, he felt relief, thankful she didn’t have to relive the nightmare.
But the panic crept in almost instantly after.
She didn’t remember being shot. She didn’t remember the man who pointed a gun at her.
And that should’ve been a relief. But in Zeke’s chest, another fear slowly crept in.
What if something had gone wrong inside her brain? What if it wasn’t just trauma but damage?
Zeke stood up quickly, reaching for the nurse call button and pressing it once, firmly. Moments later, Dr. Myers stepped into the room.
He noticed the tension immediately. "What’s going on?"
"She’s awake. But she asked why she’s here. She doesn’t remember anything."
Dr. Myers moved calmly to the side of Claire’s bed, offering her a gentle smile. "Hey, Claire. Can I ask you a quick question?"
Claire looked at him and gave a slight nod.
"Do you remember what you were doing before you came here?"
She stayed silent for a few seconds, then answered softly, "I think I was playing. But I don’t know why I’m at the hospital."
Dr. Myers turned to Zeke and spoke evenly. "It’s alright. This is actually very common, and in some cases, even protective."
As he finished speaking, Dr. Myers took a step away from the bed. He gave Zeke a small nod, signaling him to follow. Zeke hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Claire, who was now gently fidgeting with the blanket in her hands. Then he moved quietly, joining the doctor a few feet away, just enough to make sure Claire couldn’t hear them.
Dr. Myers lowered his voice.
"I didn’t want to say too much in front of her. It’s important we don’t plant fear or confusion in her mind right now."
Zeke frowned. "What do you mean?"
"What Claire is experiencing is called temporary retrograde amnesia. It’s very common in children after a major trauma, either physical or emotional. In Claire’s case, the trauma from the gunshot may have caused her brain to block that memory for now."
Zeke looked uncertain. "So she’ll be okay?"
Dr. Myers nodded. "Her condition is still within normal range, especially given her age. A three and a half year old’s brain is still developing, and their memory system isn’t as stable as an adult’s. This kind of memory loss can actually be the brain’s way of protecting itself. As long as she can talk, recognize people, and respond normally, we don’t need to be too concerned."
Zeke looked at Claire with a sad gaze, watching as she lay there completely unaware of what had happened to her.
Dr. Myers continued, "What we need to watch for is if she starts forgetting other things, like her own name, familiar people, or if she shows constant confusion. But so far, that’s not the case."
Zeke nodded slowly, some of the weight lifting from his chest.
"For now, just make sure she feels safe. Keep talking to her, read her stories, let her hear voices she knows. Usually, the memories will return gradually."
Zeke hesitated, then asked, his voice low and tight, "But... if those memories come back, what if it makes things worse? What if remembering the trauma hurts her more?"
Dr. Myers offered a calm, reassuring look. "That’s a valid concern. In some cases, traumatic memories can trigger emotional responses like anxiety, nightmares, or even PTSD symptoms. But in children, especially at her age, the brain often has a remarkable ability to process and recover. If the memories do return, we’ll monitor her closely. And if needed, we can involve a child psychologist to help her cope."
Zeke looked at his daughter with guilt and affection in his eyes. "Thank you, Doctor."
Dr. Myers nodded. "I’ll come check on her again in a few hours."
Then he left the room, leaving Zeke to sit once more beside Claire, who now looked sleepy again, yet peaceful.