Ella Sullivan is an 18-year-old high school senior with a sharp wit and a penchant for sarcasm. Her life revolves around her close-knit group of friends and the love for her dog. But her world is thrown into disarray when she encounters Ms. Catherin...
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———༺✵༻——— POV Catherine ———༺✵༻———
A/N This chapter talks about grief in detail! Please skip this if you're not up for it!
I wake slowly, the warmth of the bed cocooning me in comfort, but the peace of the moment is shattered almost immediately as the date hits me—December 27th.
Lily's birthday.
My heart constricts with the realization, and it feels as if the air has been sucked out of the room. I lie still, frozen by the weight of it, trying to breathe past the lump in my throat. There's a sharp, aching pain in my chest, one that I've come to know all too well over the past few years. The kind of pain that never really goes away, no matter how much time passes. It's the kind of pain that settles deep in your bones, becoming a part of you, making every breath feel like a struggle.
But even in the midst of my grief, there's a small comfort—a warm, steady presence beside me. Ella's arm is draped over my waist, her body curled against mine, her breath slow and even as she sleeps. The rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her touch.
I close my eyes, trying to hold on to that feeling, trying to let it soothe the storm inside me. But the pain is relentless, gnawing at the edges of my consciousness, demanding to be felt. I know I won't be able to stay here, not with this crushing weight pressing down on me.
Gently, I try to extricate myself from Ella's embrace, moving slowly so as not to wake her. She stirs slightly, her hand tightening around me for a brief moment before she relaxes again, her breathing steadying. I freeze, waiting to see if she'll wake, but she remains peacefully asleep. Finally, I manage to slip out of bed, my feet hitting the cold floor with a jolt.
The room feels empty without her warmth beside me, and as I stand there, staring down at her sleeping form, a part of me wants to crawl back into bed, to wrap myself in her arms and let the world fall away. But the ache in my chest is too much, too overwhelming, and I know that no amount of comfort can make it go away. Not today.
I pad quietly down the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. The house is still and silent, the kind of silence that amplifies everything, making the ticking of the clock seem louder, the creak of the floorboards more pronounced. It's the kind of silence that leaves too much room for the thoughts you'd rather not have, the memories you'd rather not relive.
In the kitchen, I go through the motions of making coffee, the familiar routine offering a small sense of normalcy. The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, and I pour myself a cup, cradling it in my hands as I make my way to the living room. The heat from the mug seeps into my skin, grounding me, but it does little to ease the turmoil inside.
I sink down onto the couch, my gaze drifting to the window. Outside, the world is covered in a pristine blanket of snow, untouched and perfect. The trees are coated in frost, their branches bending under the weight of the snow, and the sky is a pale, icy blue. It's beautiful, the kind of winter scene that belongs on a postcard, but all I can think about is how much I hate it.
