the calm before the storm

Beneath the Surface

The sun was beginning to dip behind the horizon as Kailani (Lani) sat on the edge of the dock, her legs dangling over the water. The ocean breeze was soft, but she barely noticed it, her mind consumed with other thoughts. She hadn't eaten much today, barely anything at all. The tightness in her stomach was familiar, something she had learned to ignore. It was a feeling she knew all too well, one she welcomed as a sign that she was in control.

But deep down, something gnawed at her. She could feel the weight of it pressing on her chest, threatening to spill over. She hadn't told anyone about it—not her mom, not her friends, not even John B. She didn't want to be seen as weak. But in these quiet moments, when she was alone, the truth seemed harder to ignore. She was fighting a battle that no one could see.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sound of footsteps approaching. John B. appeared beside her, a soft smile on his face, but his eyes searching hers. He could always tell when something was off with her.

"You look like you're a million miles away," he said, his voice light but with an undercurrent of concern.

Lani tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just thinking."

John B. didn't buy it. He sat down beside her, his body language relaxed but attentive. They had been together long enough for him to know when she was hiding something.

"Talk to me, Lani," he said gently. "You know I'm here for you."

She bit her lip, trying to swallow the tight knot in her throat. She didn't know how to explain it. How could she? It didn't make sense even to her.

"I'm fine," she said, the words coming out flat.

John B. frowned, leaning closer. "Lani, I know you. You're not fine."

She didn't answer right away. The truth felt too raw, too scary to put into words. But John B. was patient. He always was. He simply stayed beside her, offering his silent support.

Finally, she exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... don't feel right. I don't feel like myself anymore."

John B. turned toward her, his expression softening. He could see it in her eyes—the emptiness, the exhaustion. He knew she had been struggling, but he had no idea just how deep it ran.

"I'm not hungry," she added, the words coming out almost defensively. "I just don't feel like eating."

John B. knew that wasn't the full story. He had seen the signs—the way she pushed her food around on her plate, the way she claimed she wasn't hungry when he knew she hadn't eaten much that day, or the day before. But he also knew that she wasn't ready to admit what was really going on. And he wasn't sure how to help her yet—he just knew he couldn't let her face it alone.

"You don't have to do this by yourself," he said softly, reaching out and placing his hand over hers. "You're not alone, Lani. I'm here. Always."

Lani felt a pang of guilt. John B. had always been there for her, and yet, she couldn't bring herself to tell him the whole truth. How could she? What if he saw her as weak?

"I don't want to be a burden," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

"You're not a burden," John B. said firmly, his grip tightening around her hand. "We're in this together, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Lani met his eyes then, and for the first time in a long time, she let herself believe him.