Sealed with a kiss (WomanxWoman)

9

Worning! trigger-depression

I lay in bed, wrapped in a heavy cocoon of blankets, as if they could shield me from the weight pressing down on my chest. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tightly shut, casting a dull gray light that barely reached me. My phone buzzed occasionally on the nightstand, but I couldn't muster the strength to reach for it. I only managed to send a text to Claire, telling her I was sick and wouldn't be coming to work today.

The memory of last night at Charlotte's office played on an endless loop in my mind, each replay more painful than the last. It had been incredible-I'd never felt a connection like that before. But despite everything, I wished I could take it back. Yet some part of me didn't want to. The thought of her face when Jeffrey knocked on the door, the panic in her eyes... I made her cheat. I'm a terrible person. I'll never have her. I can't. It's like being a child who got the best present ever, only to have it taken away.

Getting out of bed seemed pointless. What was the use? What was the point of facing a day that felt like a punishment? Charlotte would probably fire me as soon as I set foot in the office. My project-all the hard work I'd put in-would be handed off to someone else, someone with a different vision. I couldn't bear that thought. My mom would be disappointed. She had such high hopes for me, always saying there was no doubt I'd succeed. How could I face her and tell her I'd been fired? And Cherry-she'd said she was willing to work only with me. She didn't trust anyone else at the agency. Feingold might lose the Frederique account because of me.

I pulled the covers tighter around myself, as if I could hide just a little longer from all the people I had let down.

I spent most of the day like this, seeing no point in getting up.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. "Who the hell could that be?" I murmured to myself, finding just enough strength to get out of bed. I pulled on my robe and headed to the door. I looked through the peephole. How did she know where I live?!
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Claire stood outside my apartment door, balancing a container of homemade chicken soup in her hands. "I hope you don't mind me dropping by. I squeezed your address out of HR as soon as I got your message saying you were under the weather. I thought a visit might help."

I opened the door, letting her inside. "You look pale," she remarked, though thankfully she didn't mention my disheveled hair or the dark circles under my eyes. Claire lifted the container with a reassuring smile. "I brought you some of my famous chicken soup. Thought you might need a bit of grandma's remedy."

I managed a weak smile, though it didn't quite reach my eyes. "Thanks, Claire, you didn't have to do that," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

"Of course I did," Claire said, stepping further in. "Besides, it gave me an excuse to skip my afternoon errands. Who wouldn't want to trade grocery shopping for delivering soup to a friend?" She laughed lightly, setting the container on the counter.

As she moved around my small kitchen, she found a bowl in one of the cabinets. "Why don't you sit down?" she suggested, keeping her tone casual. "I'll heat this up for you. The trick is to eat it while it's steaming hot-that's how it works its magic."

I shuffled over to the sofa and sank down, pulling a blanket around my shoulders. I watched as Claire bustled about; the simple act of having someone else in the apartment brought an unexpected sense of comfort. She kept up a steady stream of small talk, sharing office gossip and stories about her niece's recent birthday party. She didn't seem to notice-or pretended not to notice-that I was only half-listening.

When the soup was ready, Claire brought a steaming bowl over and placed it on the coffee table in front of me. "Careful, it's hot," she said, settling into the armchair across from me. "Just a few spoonfuls will do you good."

I took the spoon and stirred the soup absently. "Thanks, Claire," I said again, my voice soft. "You really didn't have to come all this way."

"Nonsense," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "I couldn't let you battle whatever bug you're fighting all on your own. Besides, you know me-I'm always looking for an excuse to take care of someone."

My lips curved into a small, grateful smile as I took a sip. For the first time in days, the warmth of the soup seemed to reach more than just my throat. As we sat there in the quiet, Claire's presence filled the room in a way that wasn't overwhelming or demanding. It was just... there. And right now, that was exactly what I didn't realize I needed-someone who showed up, even if she didn't know the whole story.

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The chapter is a little shorter than usual. It just seemed more natural to end it here. This is my first story, so I would really appreciate your opinion. Please be gentle.