Under My Body

chapter twenty-one

               The next day, I woke up with a smile, something so rare it felt almost foreign. Today, happiness lingered like a gentle, uninvited guest. The night before with Asher had been something more than memorable—heartwarming, almost surreal. It felt like a dream I hadn't expected, one I almost didn't want to leave.

Yesterday was a whirlwind. One moment, Asher and I were locked in an argument, words cutting sharp as we faced off in that all-too-familiar tension. Then, just hours later, I was out with the girls, losing myself in laughter and fun, feeling free. But somehow, after all that, Asher had surprised me. We had talked—really talked, peeling back layers we'd never dared touch before. And the things he'd said... the way he'd said them... It was as if he was baring pieces of himself I hadn't known existed, things I never thought I'd hear from him.

His words echoed in my head like a broken record: "I needed to kiss you. I wanted to. I don't regret it." Just replaying it in my mind made my heart feel warm, a tender kind of warmth that bloomed from my chest, spilling into places I hadn't realised had grown cold over the years. It was a feeling I hadn't let myself feel for so long that part of me questioned if it was real. But last night, the warmth was real—undeniably real—and I found myself clinging to it, wanting to believe it might last.

But along with that warmth came a creeping sense of unease, a nervousness that coiled low in my stomach. Why? Because Malarvili never has one full day of good things happening. Something or someone always has to ruin it. It was like clockwork—a balance I couldn't escape. And while today had started in bliss, the quiet ticking of that inevitable moment of ruin loomed over me.

I sat up, replaying bits of yesterday, lingering on each precious memory. My heart raced remembering how close we'd been, the way Asher's hand had hovered just near mine, his eyes so intent, like he was seeing something only he could understand. I could still feel the warmth of his fingers, that grounding touch that had steadied me through every nerve, every whisper of doubt.

But still, my mind wouldn't quiet down. As much as I wanted to soak up every blissful second, that familiar voice gnawed in the back of my head: Don't get too comfortable. Don't fall too deep.

As I moved through the morning, I tried to push away the unease and focus on the good, letting the afterglow of last night's revelations settle over me. But the closer it got to noon, the harder it became to ignore that nagging worry. It was as if my own heart couldn't fully accept that something this good could happen without a price.

Still, I forced those thoughts down. Today was a new day, and I wasn't going to let my overthinking or whatever new bullshit my brain came up with ruin it. Today, I was actually going to try.

I was sitting at That's So Pho, a cozy Vietnamese restaurant with a blend of modern décor and warm, ambient lighting, waiting for my client to arrive. Another inquiry had appeared in my inbox a few days ago—a local bride, planning a Toronto wedding, who needed a planner with experience. Willow, her name was. I was grateful for the timing; it gave me something immediate to focus on, something to balance the constant mental tug-of-war I'd been caught in.

A week ago, a message from Kirah, a bride in Edinburgh, had caught my attention. She was planning for next year and wanted to get started early. I'd read the message and felt... conflicted. I couldn't bring myself to reply, not yet. A month ago, I wouldn't have hesitated. A job like that, in a place like Edinburgh, would've been an instant "yes." But now? Here I was, in Canada—a trip meant to last two weeks somehow extended to 3 weeks and then, now a month. I'd stayed on for Ratha's wedding, a project that had felt familiar and comforting, but as the days passed, I couldn't ignore the nagging feeling of standing at a crossroads. Am I still here for me or for Asher?