Fate || BENNIFER

The Signs

Jennifer's P.O.V

My heart was still racing as I struggled to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that had jolted me awake. As I turned my head to the right, my eyes met Ben's concerned gaze.

"You're okay, everything is okay." He said softly.

"It's happened again." I whispered, my voice laced with frustration.

"You've been having many nightmares lately, almost every night." His tone gentle yet tinged with concern.

"It's getting worse by the day, apparently." I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Is there anything you want to talk about? I'm not a shrink, but I'm good at listening." He offered.

"You're the best." I replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I'm sorry to keep you awake."

"It's the kicks that are driving me crazy. You may be small, but your strength scares me." He teased, lightening the atmosphere.

"Don't be silly." I nudged him playfully. "I'm sorry. I wish I could make it stop."

"You might eventually find out what's triggering those nightmares." Ben said.

"It's been a couple of tough weeks, that's all." I replied, my voice tinged with weariness.

"How can I make you feel better?" He asked, his gaze softening.

"You already do." I whispered.

The silence stretched between us. Ben watched me. He knew it. He knew I needed to tell him why these past few weeks had been so strained, so tough. He had seen the exhaustion in my eyes.

"It's... a lot." I began, my voice low. "There's been a lot going on."

He nodded, and let me speak.

"I couldn't keep my mouth shut with the paparazzi. It felt like they were attacking us, attacking you. And I started a war against your ex-wife." I paused.

Ben's throat tightened, he knew the feeling, that desperate need to protect those he loved from the vultures circling above.

"It felt like a year." I continued, my voice cracking. "A whole year apart, in just a month." My eyes misting over. "Grace got really sick, and then, when she was finally out of the hospital, I got sick too. I'm still not completely recovered. My body feels like it's rebelling." I took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "And there's the Met Gala."

He knew the pressure I was carrying on my shoulders, the weight of so many responsibilities.

"The Met Gala" I repeated, the words echoing with a weariness he recognized all too well. "I'm hosting this year, you know. Everyone expects me to be there, to smile, to shine. Jennifer never fails. Jennifer never disappoints. She won't say no." My smile faltered. "But I don't even know if I'll be okay by then, I..." I trailed off.

"You've been pushing yourself too hard. You need to rest, to recover." Ben said gently.

"I know." I said, my voice barely a sigh.

"Can't you say no to the Met?" He asked. "At least to the co-chair thing. There are other people who can take your place."

"Say no to Anna Wintour?" The question hung in the air.

The weight of expectations, the fear of disappointing, my own self-imposed standards. Ben wanted to help, but he knew he could only offer his support, and a quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, I could finally learn to say no.

I turned over, but sleep, which had felt so tantalizing close moments before, had retreated, leaving behind a void that was slowly being filled with anxious thoughts.

Ben was breathing softly beside me, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. It was a sound I usually found comforting, a sign of peaceful slumber, but tonight it felt like a whisper of a different story.

His return from Georgia had been a whirlwind of activity. After a grueling month apart, filled with frantic phone calls and late-night video chats, we had both been eager to reconnect. Yet, there was something different about him. His usual bubbly energy, his ability for turning even the most mundane task into an adventure, seemed muted. He'd been unusually quiet, withdrawn even.

At first, I had attributed it to the exhaustion of filming, the draining hours and the pressure to deliver a good performance. I knew the demands of the profession well. But as the days turned into weeks, and the quietude remained, a gnawing unease started to fester within me, probably causing those nightmares.

Ben had a history, one he had bravely shared with the world, a history that involved dark periods of struggling with depression and other derived issues. He'd always been open about his vulnerability, his fight to reclaim his mental well-being.

Because of his close friends and family, I knew the signs. I knew how the spark in his eyes could dim, how his laughter could become strained, how his jokes could turn into a forced effort to hide a growing darkness.

It was a terrifying thought, the image of Ben slipping back into that dark place. I shifted in bed, a knot forming in my stomach. There was a fine line between concern and paranoia, between taking care or someone and smothering them.

I had always prided myself on being a supportive partner, someone who could provide a safe space for Ben to be vulnerable. But lately, I had been so wrapped up in my own work, dealing with the media fallout from the last scandal, that I hadn't truly seen him, hadn't noticed the subtle changes in his demeanor.

Had I been too focused on my own anxieties, on my own problems, to see the signs? Had I become so accustomed to Ben's unwavering optimism that I had simply assumed everything was fine? Was his silence a way of protecting me, of shielding me from his own struggles? Why wouldn't he tell me?

The thought made my chest ache. It was a selfless act, typical of Ben, to put my needs above his own. But it was also a dangerous one.

I reached out, my hand brushing against his arm. He stirred slightly, a mumbled word escaping his lips. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn't wake up. My mind raced, searching for answers. Should I talk to him about my worries? Would it scare him, make him feel like I didn't trust him to handle his own emotions? Or should I wait, observe, hope that it was just a temporary phase? Perhaps he was simply waiting for the right moment to tell me.

I closed my eyes, trying to shut down the thoughts. But they wouldn't be silenced. I lay awake, my body tense, my mind refusing to settle.