Our Last Dance

Chapter 7

I was floating in a dark void, the weightlessness of my body engulfing me in unconsciousness. Time stretched endlessly in the depths of my mind, allowing for a soothing calmness to replace the initial panic.

As the unconsciousness gradually lifted, light pierced through the darkness like a beacon of hope. The oppressive weight on my chest eased, and I gasped for air as awareness returned to me. Slowly, I opened my eyes.

The soft glow of the moon illuminated my room, casting gentle shadows across the walls. Beads of sweat dotted my skin as I reached up to touch my clammy face. With a sense of disorientation, I turned to glance at the bedside clock, which read 10:30 PM. How long had I been asleep? Confusion swirled within me as I struggled to piece together the events leading up to this moment.

Shifting beneath the covers, I attempted to sit up, only to be met with a sharp pain in my knee that sent a wave of agony through my body. Collapsing back onto the bed, I clenched my teeth, gritting through the pain.

A faint sound from outside the bedroom door drew my attention. "I'm sorry, Miss Gerald, but I can't leave until I'm sure Layla is okay. And I believe she's awake now, so I'm going to check on her," a familiar voice explained. It was Elijah, his concern evident in his tone.

"Elij—" My mom's protest was cut short as the door creaked open, revealing Elijah standing there. Despite my mom's objection, he had made his way inside.

His gaze softened as he saw me, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. "Layla, how are you feeling?" His deep brown eyes held genuine concern as he approached the bed. I managed a weak smile in return, unsure of what to say.

Taking a seat on his knees in front of me, he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. Behind him, my mom stood, her expression a mix of annoyance and concern. Why was she irritated? Elijah had only tried to help, carrying me to safety when I needed it most.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. I met his gaze, finding comfort in the warmth of his eyes.

"My knee hurts a little," I admitted truthfully. His brow furrowed in concern, and he offered, "Let me take a look at it."

Instinctively, I pulled away, feeling a twinge of discomfort at the thought of him inspecting my injury. His expression softened, understanding evident in his eyes. "Sorry, I'm just trying to help," he apologized, his tone gentle.

"It's okay," I reassured him quietly. "You don't have to apologize. Thank you for everything you've done." My sincerity was met with a grateful smile from Elijah, but my mom's tense posture indicated her continued disapproval.

"Mom, could you please give us some privacy?" I pleaded, my voice tinged with urgency. It wasn't about having a private conversation with Elijah; it was simply that her presence made the situation more awkward.

For a moment, my mom's gaze remained fixed on us, her reluctance evident. Eventually, she let out a sigh and nodded, retreating from the doorway and closing the door behind her.

As the room fell into silence, Elijah slowly stood up and sat beside me on the bed. "I'm sorry," he apologized softly, he looked really guilty.

What was he guilty for? It wasn't like he was the cause for the any of this.

"For what?" I asked, confusion evident in my furrowed brows.

He sighed, his gaze meeting mine hesitantly. "If I hadn't taken you to the cafe, this wouldn't have happened," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

I felt a surge of frustration. "What does you taking me to the cafe have to do with it?" I questioned.

Elijah's eyes softened as he spoke, his expression filled with regret. "I noticed you weren't quite yourself today, and yet I insisted we go to the cafe. I thought it might cheer you up, but I realize now that I may have only made things worse." His apology struck me, leaving me baffled by his sincerity.