35 ᴍᴍ ꜰɪʟᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ I 🎀 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝒸𝒾𝑒 𝒜𝒷𝓇𝒶𝓂𝓈 [𝑔𝓍𝑔] 🎀

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟔: 𝟐𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 26

The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. Gracie lay still, her eyes heavy with sleep but her mind already alert. Her arm rested lightly on Charlie's waist, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath. It was the first time in what felt like forever that Charlie had slept so deeply, and Gracie didn't want to disturb her.

But that bruise—its dark, ugly outline was all Gracie could think about.

She hadn't been able to shake the worry from her mind. All night long, as she lay awake next to Charlie, her thoughts swirled around that bruise and the way Charlie had brushed it off. The story about the stunt seemed plausible, but it didn't explain everything. There was something else. Something deeper.

Gracie had always known that Charlie kept parts of herself locked away—things she didn't talk about, things she never let anyone see. But now, those things felt closer than ever, like they were seeping into the cracks of their life together, threatening to break through the surface.

As Charlie shifted in her sleep, Gracie gently pulled her arm away, sliding out of bed as quietly as she could. She padded softly across the room, slipping into the kitchen to make coffee, her mind racing with thoughts of how to bring it up again. How to get Charlie to open up, to finally be honest.

As the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, Gracie heard the soft creak of the bedroom door. She turned to see Charlie standing in the doorway, her hair messy from sleep, wearing one of Gracie's oversized T-shirts. She looked better than she had in days—rested, but there was still something fragile in the way she moved, like she was holding herself together by sheer willpower.

"Hey," Charlie said, her voice rough with sleep. She offered Gracie a small, tired smile as she walked over to the counter. "You're up early."

Gracie smiled back, though her heart tightened in her chest. "Couldn't sleep," she said softly, handing Charlie a cup of coffee. "You slept well, though. I think that's the first time I've seen you sleep through the night in weeks."

Charlie took the cup from Gracie, wrapping both hands around it like it was the only thing anchoring her to the moment. She took a sip, nodding slowly. "Yeah," she said, her voice quiet. "I guess I needed it. I haven't been sleeping well for the longest time."

Gracie studied her for a moment, watching the way Charlie's fingers fidgeted slightly against the mug, the tension still lingering in her body even after a night of rest. 

The tension from their previous conversation lingered in the air as Charlie leaned back against the kitchen counter, cradling her cup of coffee like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. She could feel Gracie's eyes on her, soft but piercing, waiting for her to say more, to open up. But Charlie wasn't sure she could—not yet. The weight of the truth felt too heavy, too complicated to unload in one conversation.

Gracie was still standing close, her hand gently resting on Charlie's arm. The quiet concern in her gaze was almost unbearable, and Charlie knew she had to say something—anything—to break the heavy silence that had settled between them.

Charlie shifted, standing a little straighter as she forced a small smile. "It really doesn't hurt, you know," she said, her voice light, as if that would somehow erase the bruise and everything else. "The bruise looks worse than it feels."

Gracie frowned, her eyes flicking to the spot on Charlie's back where the bruise had formed, dark and deep against her skin. She didn't seem convinced, her lips pressing into a thin line as she studied Charlie's face. "Charlie," she started softly, "just because it doesn't hurt right now doesn't mean it's nothing."