Beneath the Surface

Chapter 30: Karen's Bitter Words

Chapter 30 - Karen's Bitter Words

Valerie's Point of View

The light from the morning sun stretched across the room, casting soft shadows on the walls. I woke slowly, the sleep still clinging to me in the most gentle way, like I was being held by something warm. For a moment, I didn't want to move, just to stay there and let the feeling of lightness linger. I hadn't felt like this in a long time. I couldn't even remember the last time I woke up without a weight pressing down on me, but today it was different.

Jake's breathing was steady beside me, the quiet sound of him still asleep making something inside me settle. It was strange how much I had come to crave the quiet moments with him. I wanted to turn over and look at him, but I didn't want to disturb the peace of the moment.

Last night, it had been Jake who had opened up to me. He had let down some of those walls I had only caught glimpses of before. His words were raw, something I hadn't expected, and they had pulled me closer to him in a way I couldn't explain. I had wanted to say more, to share what I hadn't said, but instead, I had just listened. I had let him speak. And it felt like we were floating in the silence after—too close, yet still unsure of what it all meant.

But this morning, I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to analyze it or try to label what had happened between us. That didn't feel right. Instead, I just let myself feel it. The warmth of him beside me, the way his presence filled the space without effort, made me feel safe. Not like I was looking for answers, but like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

I turned slowly on my side to face him, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the soft exhale of breath escaping his lips. For a second, I thought about what he had shared with me last night—the pain he had carried for so long—and it made me ache for him. But there was something else there, too. Something that didn't have a name yet. I wasn't sure if it was something he even understood.

I couldn't stop wondering if he liked me, really liked me, or if it was just a fleeting thing. The kind of thing that comes out of shared moments of vulnerability. And yet, I didn't want to ask. I didn't want to rush anything. I just wanted to let things unfold, but there was that tight knot in my chest every time I thought about it. What was this? What were we? I didn't know if I was ready to define it.

The thought of him waking up, of us having to deal with whatever this was, made my stomach flutter. I couldn't get rid of that feeling that if I asked the wrong question, everything would come crashing down. I didn't want to ruin the quiet peace that had settled between us, but at the same time, the uncertainty of it all felt like it was closing in.

I finally pulled the blanket up around my shoulders, careful not to make any noise, and got out of bed. The cool air of the morning hit me as I padded across the room, the soft creak of the floor beneath my feet the only sound. I walked over to the window, parting the curtains to peek outside. The world outside was still, calm, but there was a promise of something more, of something that had yet to happen. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

I stood there for a while, trying to push the questions out of my mind, but they kept coming back. What did it mean that we had spent the night like that, sharing pieces of ourselves that I didn't think either of us had intended to? Was it just an isolated moment, a connection that happened because of the grief we shared, or was it something else? Did he feel the same way, or was he still sorting through everything? I hated that I couldn't just know.

The sound of Jake waking up pulled me from my thoughts. I turned around as he shifted in the bed, stretching his arms above his head with a deep yawn. His eyes opened slowly, blinking against the light, and then he saw me standing by the window. There was something in his eyes, a quiet softness I wasn't sure I had seen before.