Page 140 of Heart of The Night

The sound of his laugh echoed like a warm melody in my mind. It was the kind of laugh I hadn’t heard in what felt like ages, one that wasn’t weighed down by everything that had happened. For a brief moment, it was just us, four friends caught up in the chaos of a virtual race, the world outside forgotten.

Olivia was on the edge of her seat, her controller held in a white-knuckled grip as she tried to overtake Jason’s Luigi. ‘I swear, if you hit me with another shell, I’m going to—’

‘Going to what?’ Jason interrupted, his voice full of mischief as he expertly manoeuvred around a banana peel. ‘You’re all talk, love.’

William’s grin widened as he watched Olivia’s Peach swerve, narrowly avoiding disaster. I caught the gleam in his eyes, the same one he used to get when he was up to something. It was a small glimpse of the William we knew – the one who hadn’t been burdened by the assault.

‘Come on, Livy,’ William urged, a note of playful challenge in his tone. ‘Show him who’s boss.’

But Jason was relentless, his Luigi charging ahead with a final burst of speed. A chorus of groans erupted as he overtook us all in the final lap, his self-satisfied grin matching the victory music blaring from the telly.

‘You’re far too smug for your own good,’ Olivia muttered, giving him a playful nudge with her elbow.

I glanced at William, who was leaning back on the sofa, a relaxed smile on his lips. It was good to see him like this – normal, carefree, like nothing had ever gone wrong – even if I knew it was only temporary.

The past few days had been filled with moments like this – brief respites where we could almost pretend everything was back to normal. But the nights told a different story. William had been having nightmares, vivid and terrifying, the kind that left him whimpering and shouting in his sleep, drenched in sweat when he finally jolted awake.

He never talked about them, not even when I pressed him. He’d just brush it off, insisting he was fine, that it was nothing. But I could see the strain on his face, the way his hands trembled slightly whenever he thought no one was looking. The nightmares were eating away at him, even if he refused to admit it.

It hurt. It hurt to know that despite our best efforts, despite all the moments of laughter and distraction, the trauma still had its claws deep in him. I wanted to help him, to make it all go away, but I felt powerless. The William I knew was still there, but he was buried under layers of pain and fear that he wouldn’t – or couldn’t – talk about.

And as much as I wanted to push, to force him to open up, I knew better. William was stubborn, and if he wasn’t ready to talk, no amount of coaxing would make him. All I could do was be there, to offer what comfort I could and hope that, in time, he’d find a way to heal.

The sound of the game resetting on the telly pulled me from my thoughts, and I forced a smile, trying to shake off the melancholy that had settled over me. This was William’s time, and he deserved to enjoy it without the weight of my worries pressing down on him.

‘Ready for another round?’ I asked, still looking at William.

He met my gaze, smirking. ‘Yeah, why not? I’m not done kicking your arse just yet.’

‘And I’m not done kicking yours, either,’ Jason chimed in, his eyes on William.

‘Thanks for being my brother, Jason. I often appreciate you. But this is not one of those times.’

‘He’s the Pumba to your Timon, actually,’ I interjected. William looked utterly bewildered. Had he forgotten he said that?

‘What?’

‘Yes, you said it yourself when you were high on meds.’

He scoffed, his eyes briefly flickering toward Jason’s amused expression. ‘Fuck that, I’m Mufasa. He’s Simba.’

I giggled. ‘What does that make John?’

‘Useless.’

I wheezed, but the sound was drowned out by Jason’s guffaw. ‘Brutal!’

William chuckled. ‘Only joking.’

We started another cup, and this time, the competition felt even fiercer. Olivia, determined not to let Jason’s gloating continue, played with a focused intensity that made the rest of us scramble to keep up.

‘You’re all in trouble now,’ she said, her voice filled with mock-seriousness as she expertly manoeuvred Peach through the last course. I exchanged a glance with William, who was grinning, clearly enjoying the shift in energy.

It didn’t take long before Olivia took the lead, her Peach outpacing the rest of us. Jason, lingering mostly in second place, threw everything he had at her – red shells, banana peels, even a well-timed blue shell – but she dodged and weaved through it all, determined to claim victory.

In the final lap, we all knew it was over. Olivia crossed the finish line first, raising her controller in triumph as the rest of us groaned in defeat.

‘Finally,’ she said, a satisfied smile on her face as the victory music played. ‘That’s more like it.’

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