Recollection

twenty-six | kitchen utensils

song: Benson Boone - Beautiful Things

Fiona appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her expression softened when she saw me, but concern immediately clouded her features. She didn't ask questions, pry, or try to dig into what had happened. Instead, she crossed the room and wrapped me in a hug that was so warm and so gentle that it almost made me break down right there.

"Hey," she whispered, her arms tight around me. "You're okay now."

I didn't know how to respond. I wasn't okay. But her embrace made me feel like maybe, just for this moment, I didn't have to be. I could let myself lean on someone else, even if I didn't deserve it.

"I made cupcakes," she said, pulling back and offering me a small smile. "They're in the kitchen if you're up for it. And Mocha's running around somewhere, being his usual fluffy self."

I glanced around the room, scanning for their lionhead bunny, Mocha. The little brown fluffball was Fiona's pride and joy. But today, I wasn't sure anything could distract me from the heavy weight sitting in my chest.

"Thanks, Fiona," I said softly, managing a weak smile. "You're always so kind."

She touched my arm gently, her eyes full of understanding. "You don't have to thank me. Just... take it easy, okay? You're safe here."

Eros reappeared from the hallway, his jacket discarded, and his face still lined with the residual tension from earlier. He looked between Fiona and me, then smiled faintly as he sat down on the armrest of the couch.

"Mocha's probably hiding under the couch, waiting to pounce on someone's ankle," Eros joked, trying to lighten the mood.

I tried to laugh, but it came out more like a strangled breath. My hands were shaking, and I hadn't realized until now how tightly I'd been holding myself together. My legs felt weak like they might give out if I didn't sit down soon. Fiona noticed and gently guided me to the couch.

"Sit. Rest for a while," she said, her voice soft but firm. She knew me well enough to know I wasn't going to protest.

I sank into the cushions, exhaustion hitting me all at once. It felt like every bit of strength I'd had left drained out of me the moment I sat down. Eros and Fiona exchanged a look, one that told me they were both worried but were trying not to overwhelm me with questions.

Fiona disappeared into the kitchen, and a few seconds later, I heard the clink of mugs and the soft hum of a kettle. Eros sat across from me, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked onto me as if he was trying to figure out the right thing to say. But I didn't need him to say anything right now. His presence was enough. What he did...

I stared down at my hands, trying to calm the trembling, but it was no use. The memory of Atticus's cold gaze, the way his words cut me to pieces, played over and over in my mind. I had tried so hard to reach him, but he had shut me out and shoved me away like I was something disposable. After everything we had been through, after all the ways I had loved him, it hurt more than I could have imagined.