Page 141 of When the Storm Breaks
But I’m not ready to dig into all that yet. Not today.
I move restlessly beneath the tangled sheets, legs kicking out, fighting against the mess I’ve made of them. For a second, I think about staying here. Letting the day pass without me.
But eventually, I shove the blanket off with an exhale and roll over, squinting at the daylight filtering in through the curtains. Morning—maybe midday.
The light is harsh. Glaring.
But it’s still daylight. And I’m here.
Buried in it.
My eyes drift to the ZZ plant across the room—the one in the too-bright, too-happy yellow pot. The sight of it frustrates me.
I haven’t watered it in days, maybe longer, but it’s still alive. Thriving. Its deep green leaves glisten in the sunlight, like it doesn’t need me. Like it doesn’t care that I’ve neglected it.
For a second, I think about tossing it out the window, just to watch it fall.
Anger? Maybe. Jealousy?
It’s alive, despite everything.
Despite me.
Another knock. Louder this time, but still hesitant—like he’s deciding whether to push today or let me rot in peace.
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Fuck off, Chase.”
Silence.
A pause long enough to convince me he’s gone.
Then—
“Can I come in?”
I freeze. My pulse spikes, pounding loud enough to drown out everything else.
I know that voice like I know my own breath.
I’m on my feet before I even realize I’ve moved. But then I hesitate—staring at the door like it might be a trick.
Like I’m lost in the desert, and her voice is the sound of water just ahead.
A mirage.
But when I open the door… she’s there.
She stands in the doorway, unmoving.
Her gaze is measured, taking me in the same way I’m taking her in. She looks drained, worn down by the days apart—like it’s hurt her just as much as it’s hurt me.
But she’s here.
Her eyes sweep over me, and I feel the weight of it.
I know what she’s seeing—the worst version of me. My hair’s a mess, sticking up in some places, matted in others. My face is swollen, jaw rough with days-old stubble, the dark circles under my eyes settled in like they’re permanent.
And I’m standing in front of her like this—in my underwear—trying to ignore the fact that my body still reacts to her. Even now.
