Eternal Echoes

Chapter Seventy- One: A Fragile Heart

Michaella's POV

I woke up to the relentless pounding of my head, each throb sending a wave of pain through my entire body. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper, raw and burning with every swallow. I knew this feeling well enough—my body was giving up on me, and I was falling ill.

As I forced myself to sit up, I was hit with a wave of dizziness. The room spun around me, the walls seeming to close in, making me feel even more trapped than I already did. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, hoping for some small distraction, something to take my mind off the ache that had settled deep in my bones.

The screen lit up with a string of notifications—messages from family and friends, all checking in on me. I could almost hear the concerned voices of my cousins, Pamela, and Elijah, each of them urging me to take care of myself. Their words were comforting, and yet... they felt empty. A hollow reminder that there was one person who hadn't reached out, the one person whose absence in my life I still couldn't fill.

Gabrielle.

My thumb hovered over his name in my contacts, the urge to call him almost unbearable. I imagined his voice on the other end, soothing and familiar, telling me that everything would be okay, that he was here for me, just like he used to be. But I knew better than to give in to that temptation. I couldn't keep hurting myself, expecting something from someone who was no longer a part of my life.

But no matter how hard I tried to push him from my thoughts, he lingered there, a shadow over everything. The memories of him were as vivid as if they had happened yesterday—the way he would bring me soup when I was sick, insisting that I eat even when I had no appetite. How he'd sit by my bedside, reading to me until I fell asleep, his voice low and comforting, a balm for whatever ailed me.

I missed that comfort, that care, more than I could put into words. It was a kind of pain that settled deep in my chest, wrapping itself around my heart and squeezing until I couldn't breathe. The longing for him was a constant ache, one that I had grown used to carrying, but today... today it was too much.

The hours passed in a blur of fever dreams and moments of half-consciousness. My body alternated between shivering and sweating, the fever spiking and then dropping, leaving me exhausted and weak. Every movement felt like a monumental effort, every breath laboured. My mom brought me tea, her eyes full of worry as she watched me struggle to drink it.

"You need to rest," she urged, her voice soft but firm.

"I'm trying," I whispered back, the words barely audible over the lump in my throat.

She sat down beside me, her hand warm and reassuring as she took mine. "Your body gets sick when your soul is tired, Michaella. You've been through so much, holding onto so much pain. It's okay to let go. You don't have to carry this burden alone."

Her words pierced through the wall I had built around myself, the one I had used to keep everyone at a distance. The tears I had been holding back for so long started to fall, hot and fast, as I buried my face in her shoulder. I cried for all the pain I had tried to hide, for the loneliness that had become my constant companion, for the love that I still couldn't let go of no matter how much it hurt.

"I miss him so much," I sobbed, my voice trembling with the weight of my emotions. "I know I shouldn't, but I do. Every part of me still wants him, still waits for him. But he's gone, and I'm here, and I can't... I can't stop hurting."

She held me tighter, her hand stroking my hair in a soothing rhythm. "I know, darling. I know how much it hurts. But you can't let this pain consume you. You have so many people who love you, who want to see you happy. You deserve to be loved by someone who will cherish you, who will never make you feel like this."

I wanted to believe her, to let her words sink in and heal the wounds that Gabrielle had left behind. But the pain was still there, raw and bleeding, refusing to be soothed. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine a world where I could move on, where I could find happiness without him. But every time I did, his face was there, haunting me, reminding me of what I had lost.

I tried to distract myself, to focus on the love that surrounded me—the constant stream of texts and calls from my friends and family, each one a reminder that I wasn't alone. But it wasn't enough. None of it filled the void that he had left behind. I curled up under the blankets, pulling them tightly around me as if they could shield me from the hurt, but the ache in my chest only grew stronger.

The day dragged on, a haze of fever and tears, my thoughts looping endlessly back to him. I couldn't escape it, no matter how hard I tried. I kept waiting for the phone to ring, for his name to flash on the screen, but it never did. The silence was suffocating, a reminder that I meant nothing to him anymore.

The sun set, casting long shadows across the room as the fever spiked again, leaving me drenched in sweat and trembling. My mom stayed by my side, refusing to leave me alone, her worry etched into every line of her face. I felt guilty, knowing I was putting her through this, knowing how much it hurt her to see me like this. But I couldn't help it—I was too weak, too broken to pretend I was okay.

Eventually, the medication took hold, and I felt myself slipping into a restless sleep, the darkness closing in around me. But even in sleep, I couldn't escape him. In my dreams, he was there, standing beside my bed, his hand reaching out to touch my forehead, just like he used to. I reached for him, desperate to feel his warmth, to hear his voice, but he faded away, leaving me alone in the cold, dark void of my mind.

Third Person POV

The house was quiet now, the only sound the occasional crackle of the fireplace as Michaella's parents sat in the living room, the weight of the day pressing down on them. Her mom stared at the floor, her eyes wet with unshed tears, her heart heavy with the pain of watching her daughter suffer.

Her husband reached out, pulling her into his arms, trying to offer what little comfort he could. "She'll be okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "She's strong."

But she shook her head, the tears spilling over as she buried her face in his chest. "I hate him for what he's done to her. She's trying so hard to be strong, to act like she's fine, but I can see through it. She's tired, and she still loves him so much. I hate him for breaking her like this."

Her voice cracked, and the sobs came, deep and painful, shaking her small frame. He held her close, his own heart breaking as he listened to her cry. He knew how much Michaella had been through, how hard she had fought to move on, to find happiness again. But seeing her like this, so fragile and defeated, made him feel helpless, like there was nothing he could do to ease her pain.

They sat like that for a long time, the quiet of the house wrapping around them like a shroud. Outside, the autumn wind howled, rattling the windows, a stark contrast to the stillness inside. The night stretched on, each minute feeling like an eternity, as they clung to each other, the love for their daughter the only thing keeping them grounded in a moment of overwhelming despair.

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"Your body gets sick, when you soul is tired". 

Do you believe in this?