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

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟐: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 [𝐓𝐖]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 32 [ᴛᴡ]

Charlie blinked her eyes open, feeling the unfamiliar softness of a blanket draped over her shoulders and the quiet murmur of a morning house around her. She lay on the couch in Gracie's living room, the pale light filtering in through the curtains and casting a soft glow across the room. For a few disorienting moments, she couldn't quite place where she was, and her mind scrambled to remember the events of the night before.

The first thing she noticed was the cool, damp weight on her forehead—a folded, wet towel that rested there like a gentle reminder of the kindness she'd been shown. She reached up to touch it, feeling its soothing coolness against her warm skin, her fingers brushing the fabric as if to confirm it was real.

Gracie was standing by the counter, her back to Charlie, as she poured steaming coffee into two mugs. The rich, familiar aroma drifted through the room, a grounding comfort that made Charlie's heart ache with gratitude. She couldn't remember the last time someone had taken care of her like this, without asking for anything in return, without expecting her to justify her need.

As if sensing her gaze, Gracie turned, her expression softening as she saw Charlie awake. She walked over, her footsteps light, her eyes filled with gentle concern.

"You're awake," Gracie said, her voice a quiet murmur. She reached down and removed the towel from Charlie's forehead, feeling her skin for any lingering fever. "How are you feeling?"

Charlie hesitated, trying to gauge the answer herself. She felt better physically; the soreness in her head and limbs had eased, but the weight in her chest remained, a dull ache she couldn't quite shake. "A bit better, I think," she managed, her voice soft and hoarse.

Gracie nodded, folding the towel and setting it aside. She placed a cool hand on Charlie's forehead, her touch gentle, checking her temperature with quiet attentiveness. "Well, you don't feel as warm. But you're still not completely yourself, are you?"

Charlie shook her head, though she couldn't find the words to explain how deep the exhaustion ran and how every part of her felt worn thin, as though she'd been carrying something too heavy for far too long.

"Come on," Gracie said, her voice low and encouraging. "Let's get you sitting up properly. I've got fresh coffee on the go."

With Gracie's support, Charlie managed to pull herself into a sitting position, her head spinning slightly as she sat up. Gracie was steady beside her, a grounding presence, helping her stand and guiding her over to the dining table. The table was set simply but thoughtfully, with two cups and a small pot of honey, the little details making the space feel warm and inviting.

Gracie helped her ease into the chair, adjusting the blanket so it still wrapped around her shoulders. She placed one of the mugs in front of Charlie, the dark liquid sending up comforting wisps of steam.

"Drink up," Gracie encouraged, her tone gentle but firm. "It'll help you feel a bit more awake. It's my favourite blend, you know, so you'd better appreciate it."

Charlie managed a small, grateful smile, her fingers curling around the warm mug. She lifted it to her lips, taking a tentative sip. The coffee was rich and dark, with a hint of sweetness that she hadn't expected but found surprisingly comforting. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth seep through her, feeling the ache in her chest ease just a fraction.

"Thank you," she murmured, barely loud enough for Gracie to hear. "I... I don't think I would've managed last night on my own."

Gracie pulled out the chair across from her, settling down with her own cup. She looked at Charlie for a long moment, her expression a blend of empathy and patience. "You don't have to thank me, Charlie. You know you're always welcome here. I mean it."