Zoe stopped breathing.
The blood physically drained from her face, leaving her usually vibrant, expressive features looking like a wax replica. The sheer, soul-crushing dread in her eyes was absolute.
She stared at Aria's blank, emotionless mask, the horrific realization settling into her bones that her best friend's mind had been wiped clean by the East River.
One second passed.
Two seconds.
Three agonizing, world-ending seconds of silence hung in the sterile hospital air.
And then…
Aria's mouth twitched.
And then, she broke.
Aria threw her head back against the hospital pillows and burst into a fit of loud, cackling laughter. It was a full-chested, gasping, wheezing howl of pure, unadulterated amusement.
Beside her, the heart monitor instantly betrayed the joke, its steady beep-beep-beep rapidly accelerating into a frantic, excited rhythm.
Zoe blinked, the shock short-circuiting her brain. She stared at the laughing girl in the bed.
