On and Off the Track

S I X T Y T H R E E.

The morning sun streamed through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow in the room. I stirred awake, immediately regretting it as a wave of nausea washed over me. I groaned and rolled over to find Charles sprawled next to me, his tousled hair a delightful mess, a frown on his face as he too began to wake up.
"Ugh, my head," he muttered, squinting against the light. I chuckled softly, the sound almost painful, but I couldn't help it.
"You look like you've been run over by a bus," I teased, resting my chin on my hand and studying him.
"Thanks, you're a real sweetheart," he replied, his voice thick with sleep. He tried to sit up but immediately fell back against the pillows. "Why do we always think we can party like when we were young and childish?"
"Because we're young and childish!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms wide as if that made it any more acceptable. "Or maybe just young and stupid?"
"Probably a bit of both," he chuckled, finally managing to sit up and lean against the headboard. We exchanged glances, and I felt a warm flutter in my chest. Despite our hangovers, the moment felt cosy and intimate, like we were the only two people in the world.
"Okay, what's the plan?" I asked, rubbing my temples.
"Plan?" He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "I was thinking we could just lounge in bed all day. Who needs responsibilities when you have a comfy bed and each other?" I laughed again, the sound slightly more cheerful this time.
"I'm all for that. Just us, maybe a movie and a whole lot of bad decisions from last night." We settled back against the pillows, the comfortable silence stretching between us. Charles reached over and grabbed his phone, scrolling through our group chat, his expression shifting from amusement to mild horror.
"Okay, you need to see this," he said, turning the screen toward me. There it was—a photo from last night, us mid-dance, both of us making the most ridiculous faces imaginable. I burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the quiet room.
"What are we doing?"
"Living our best lives, obviously," he replied, mock-seriously, and I couldn't help but smile.
"Best lives, huh?" I said, glancing at the time on his phone. "I'm pretty sure our best lives include breakfast."
"Agreed," he said, throwing the covers off and getting up with a groan. "You can't just lounge in bed all day without some food to go along with it. I'll brave the kitchen if you promise to help." I raised my hands in mock surrender.
"Deal! But I'm not responsible for what I put in your omelette." He laughed, shaking his head as he headed to the kitchen.
"You're a menace, Bronte!" As I followed him, I couldn't help but feel grateful for these little moments—lazily lounging around, joking about our foolish choices, and enjoying the simplicity of being together. It was a funny kind of day, one that would definitely be memorable, even if the memories were a bit hazy.

As Charles began cooking breakfast, I sat at the dining table subtly watching him. I grabbed my phone, unlocking it to find a few unread messages in the group chat. A chuckle escaped me as I scrolled through the ridiculous selfies from last night—Mila making faces, Pierre mid-dance move, and the blurry chaos of a night spent too deep in the club. But then my smile faded, and my thumb hovered over Mila's name. I hadn't told her everything. Not yet. After the confrontation with Yvie, I had shut it down, trying to distract myself with dancing and laughter. But now, in the stillness of the morning, it all came rushing back.I started typing.
"Hey, are you awake? I need to tell you what happened last night. I ran into her." A few seconds later, Mila's three dots appeared, typing back.
"Omg! I knew something was up! What happened??" I sighed, fingers pausing before I launched into it.
"Yeah, I didn't want to make a scene, but it was her, Mila. It was definitely her. I bumped into her at the club, literally." Another pause. I could feel Mila's energy even through the phone, her curiosity probably bursting.
"NO WAY. What did she say?? Did you talk to her?" I took a deep breath, memories from last night replaying in my mind—the sting of recognition, the harsh words, the frustration that had bubbled up in my chest.
"Yeah, I couldn't just walk away. I confronted her. Told her she was the one he cheated with. She didn't even know, apparently. But like... how does that make it better? I was so angry." I hit send, my heart still pounding at the thought of the encounter. My phone buzzed almost immediately.
"Oh my god. That must have been intense. What did she even say?" Before I could reply, I heard the gentle clinking of plates in the kitchen. I glanced up, seeing Charles at the stove, humming to himself, completely unaware of the emotional rollercoaster I was going through on my phone. His easy presence was a stark contrast to the turmoil still churning in my mind. I typed back.
"She said she was sorry. She seemed so shocked, like she didn't expect to see me, let alone be confronted. But it didn't make me feel better. I just felt... shattered. I mean, I know I'm better off now. Charles is amazing. But it still hurts, you know?" There was a pause as Mila's response came through.
"I get it. Even when you've moved on, the past can sting. But honestly, Bronte, you're stronger than all of this. Lando's not worth the space in your head. And Charles... wow, you two are just perfect together." I smiled softly at that, glancing over at Charles as he plated scrambled eggs and what looked like avocado toast. His hair was slightly messy, and he wore that familiar goofy grin that always made my heart skip a beat. Just then, Charles turned around, catching my eye.
"Breakfast is ready, mon amour," he called, flashing me that charming smile. "I made your favourite." I grinned at him, momentarily setting my phone aside.
"You're the best, you know that?" Charles winked.
"I try." But even as we started eating, I couldn't help but glance at my phone again. I had moved on; I was sure of that. Charles was wonderful. But Mila was right. The past still had a way of creeping up on me, especially when faced with the people who'd been a part of it. As I took a bite of my toast, my phone buzzed again.
"We're all here for you, okay? If you need to talk about it more, just let me know. But don't let it ruin your day. You've got Charles, you've got your life... and you've got me to help you through all the crazy stuff." I smiled down at my phone, feeling a little lighter, grateful for Mila's unwavering support.
"Thanks, Mila. I know. I'll catch up with you later?"
"Of course. Enjoy breakfast with your amazing man." I locked my phone and looked across the table at Charles, who was busy eating his breakfast.
"Everything okay?" he asked, finally noticing me looking at him.
"Yeah," I said, smiling softly. "Everything's fine." And for the first time in a while, I really meant it.