Carla surveyed the room around her. It was bare except for the standard issue hospital bed and a small chair which sat empty next to her, compounding how alone she felt. They had taken her to Weatherfield General, a nurse explaining that they were arranging for a psychiatrist to come and make an assessment. She was relieved they hadn't tried to sedate her like before, but she was also acutely aware of the orderly pacing just outside her door, clearly on alert for if she attempted to leave. She rubbed her forehead, she could feel the beginnings of another wave of the dizziness that had plagued her for the last few days, no doubt to be followed by the dancing visions and lights that made it hard to focus on anything else. Was she cracking up and just in denial? No, this wasn't like before.

She tried to think back to 2019, when the psychosis was at its worst. Her memories of that time were hazy, but the overriding feeling was of panic and suspicion. She didn't have that; well that wasn't entirely true, her anxiety had returned, but that was because her symptoms made no sense to her, and her husband had, rather than try and understand her concerns, gone full throttle to get her locked away again. That made her response rational didn't it? She lay back onto the bed, no longer able to think straight as once again her body seemed to lose its connection to her brain. She scrunched her eyes together to try and stop the visions, she knew they weren't real but that didn't stop them from dancing vividly across her closed eyelids; the colours soon distracting her from all other thoughts as she relaxed into following their patterns over and over.

She must have fallen asleep, and was woken with a start by raised voices outside of her room, it took a few seconds to remember where she was and to make sense of what she was hearing. She recognised Peter's voice, his frustration evident as he argued with somebody about being let in to see her. Her resolve dropped for a moment, and she had an overwhelming need for him to come and wrap his arms around her and tell her that everything would be ok. This feeling was replaced by a sharp pain in her gut when she heard him talking about sectioning options and that he had power of attorney over her medical care. She could only make out the odd word but assumed he had clearly already given up on her and that hurt her more than anything else every could. She wondered if what he was saying was true, if he would have the final say now however much she protested. She had signed the forms for him to take control of her care in the event that she was no longer capable; it had seemed a sensible idea when she was recovering from her previous episode; it was something they had discussed at length and that both of them had hoped would never be needed. She had believed that out of everyone he would always fight for her so as her husband he was of course the natural choice. But he had already stopped fighting hadn't he? She felt like he just wanted her medicated again to make this whole thing go away. Or was she just being paranoid after all? Why did nothing make sense?

Eventually after what felt like hours a male doctor that she vaguely recognised entered the room, accompanied by a much younger woman, who moved to sit in the chair next to her, ready to make notes on a clipboard.

"Hi Carla, I am Dr King, the consultant psychologist on duty tonight, and this is my registrar. I don't know if you remember me, I was involved briefly in your care following your hospital discharge from Carlisle. I just thought it would be good for us to have a chat about what has been happening recently, how does that sound?"

Carla nodded, moving herself to sit directly opposite him, trying to work out the best was to prove to him that she wasn't this mad person that she was sure had been painted. "I really don't think I need to be here…" she could hear the words coming out of her mouth were slightly slurred as she struggled to keep her focus, her vision hadn't completely returned to normal so her attempts to look him directly in the eye also felt unnatural. How could she get her point across when all her actions were betraying her. She could feel her eyes welling with tears, as much as she tried to resist it.

"I don't know what is happening to me, but I swear I am not crazy like before. I don't know how I can prove it when everyone has already made their minds up."

She saw the sympathy on the doctors face, there was a silence for a few seconds as she attempted to gather herself before he responded.

"Carla, from what you husband has said, your symptoms are very different to before, but we need to try and get to the bottom of it don't we?"

Carla nodded in agreement,

"I don't want to be sectioned again, I don't feel like I need that. Whatever Peter is telling you."

The doctor studied her for a few moments, before offering her a gentle smile.

"Carla, let me reassure you that is the last thing your husband wants. In fact he has told me he will do whatever he can to support you going home today. He is just concerned about you, and needed some expert support to know how best to help you through this."

Carla felt some of the tension drop away. Maybe Peter had listened to her, maybe she wasn't alone in this after all. She felt so confused, should she have doubted him? She wished she could think straight, wished she could understand what was happening to her.

"So you believe it's not psychosis then? And Peter does? You will help me?"

"Honestly, right now we don't know what it is, you are clearly experiencing some difficulties at the moment, but I don't believe it is anyone's best interest to admit you today. I am going to arrange a new community support worker for you, and would like you to come back for an outpatient appointment tomorrow, and then we'll go from there. How does that sound?"

Carla was barely listening, relief was flooding through her and she felt, despite everything, that she finally had hope that there was a way through this for her. He did have her back after all, how could she have ever doubted him?

"Can I please see Peter?"

The consultant smiled, "You most certainly can, its been almost impossible keeping him away!"

With that the door opened and Peter, who had clearly been listening outside, practically sprinted across to where she was sitting; she noticed how drained he looked and felt suddenly guilty for causing him this pain. He stopped as he reached the bed, apprehensively cupping her chin with his hand, lifting her head to meet his gaze. It felt like he was staring directly into her soul and everything else melted away as she promised herself to never doubt him again. He kissed her forehead lightly before wrapping her in his warm embrace.

"Come on my love, let's get you home."