Page 23 of Undone

“Let’s breathe in. Are you ready?” He stared directly into me, completely calm.

I managed a shallow nod. He guided me, counting out the breaths, as he exaggerated each one for my benefit. “In, two, three, four.” I mirrored his motions. “That’s it. Good job.”

He was slowly bringing me back from the brink of hysteria, each exhale a thread weaving me back into the present.

After a few minutes of ragged breaths, the tightness slowly began to ease, and the room stopped spinning. He stayed by my side, breathing with me until I started to regain my composure. His patience was unwavering, his presence a quiet strength I hadn’t realized I needed.

And I drew on it. I selfishly took everything this man, who was fighting his own battles, was giving me.

His arms still held me close on the cold hospital floor, as his steady breathing gradually silenced my thoughts.

“I got you,” he said, both a promise and a reassurance.

His voice was a lifeline. I took another deep breath, this time feeling more stable, more in control. The darkness of panic continued to recede, replaced by a cautious calm.

Even after my breathing evened out, I didn’t pull away. His arms were the only thing keeping me steady, and for the first time in longer than I cared to admit, I felt safe.

I couldn’t explain why, but I did. It was something about him that made everything else fade.

And in that moment of weakness, I allowed myself to stay in the arms of a stranger that, for some reason, was exactly where I needed to be.

Our noses nearly touched, his gaze searching mine. There were so many emotions running across his face—concern, fear, empathy, and more.

After several minutes, I shifted, creating a small distance between us. Dorian let me go, but not before his hand lingered on my arm. A second too long, waiting for some confirmation I was ready, that I was okay.

“Thanks,” I whispered, breaking the silence, pulling away as I stood.

“Anytime.”

He offered his hand, his fingers brushing mine as he helped me up.

“I’m… sorry. That’s just a lot to process. I didn’t mean to lose it on you. You have enough going on today.”

“It’s okay, really.”

“This was not the day I had in mind when I woke up,” I said with a small, self-deprecating smile.

“Yeah, me either,” he replied with a weak smile of his own.

A long silence stretched between us, both of us standing there, unsure of how to move forward.

EIGHT

Noah - February

SOMEONE TO STAY - VANCOUVER SLEEP CLINIC

This year,Valentine’s Day landed on a Friday, allowing me to send the kids home to their parents to handle the aftermath of their sugar highs over the weekend. My day was filled with the joyful chaos of card exchanges and laughter. Excitement buzzed through the classroom, leaving colorful paper hearts and glitter scattered across every surface.

For a few fleeting hours, my students warmed my heart, softening the sharp edges of loneliness.

Valentine’s Day wasn’t just an overhyped excuse to celebrate love—it was a glaring reminder of what I didn’t have and what I wasn’t sure I’d ever truly had. It was just me, alone.

But evenalonedidn’t feel like the right word.

Single.

Was I single?

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