Her Time

𝒞𝒽. Seven

Annabelle sat nestled in the warm embrace of her living room, the soft cushions of her plush couch cradling her as the familiar opening credits of "About Time" played on the screen before her. The film told the enchanting tale of a young man who discovers a remarkable trait passed down through the men in his family: the extraordinary ability to travel back in time. Captivated, she watched as he navigated the intricacies of love and fate, using his newfound powers to find and court the woman of his dreams—a seemingly perfect romance that contrasted starkly with her own reality. In her own life, however, Annabelle faced a much harsher predicament: she was battling Oligodendroglioma, a type of brain tumor that rendered her vulnerable to a myriad of health complications. The relentless nature of the illness left her feeling weak and often fatigued, her body weary from the toll it took on her.

Just as the heartwarming scene unfolded on-screen, the shrill ring of her phone pierced through the tranquility of the room, startling Annabelle out of her reverie. With a weary sigh, she reached over to the small table beside her, reluctantly grasping the device. "Hello?" she answered, attempting to keep her voice steady despite the fatigue that weighed down her words.

"Anni?" The familiar voice of Carlisle came through the receiver, a note of concern lacing his tone.

Clearing her throat, Annabelle offered a gentle smile, though he couldn't see it. "Hello, Carlisle," she greeted, trying to infuse her voice with warmth.

"I don't mean to bother you, but Nurse Jackie informed me that you wouldn't make it into the office today because you were sick. Um, the reason I'm calling is...I wanted to make sure that you were alright," he stumbled over his words, his genuine concern evident.

She shook her head as if to dismiss his worry, even though he couldn't see her. "Carlisle, I'm fine, just a little cold," she lied, placing emphasis on the word 'fine'. "I will do my best to return tomorrow," she said, hoping to reassure him.

"Are you sure? If you can't make it in tomorrow that will be understandable," he replied, though the hope in his voice betrayed his true feelings. He genuinely wanted her to feel better.

A soft, frustrated groan escaped her lips as Annabelle threw her legs off the couch and attempted to stand. Gripping her head to steady herself, she felt a sudden wave of dizziness overwhelm her. In an unfortunate moment, she lost her balance and collapsed to the floor with a loud thud, hitting her head against the edge of the end table.

Hearing the noise and her muffled groan of pain sent a jolt of fear through Carlisle. He hastily packed up his things at the office, urgency gripping him. Knowing she might be in trouble, he sprinted to his car, his heart racing. Once he was behind the wheel, he sped out of the parking lot, focused solely on reaching her as quickly as possible.

All he could think about was Annabelle, the image of her struggling in pain rapidly replaying in his mind. The depth of his feelings for her confused him; he'd never felt so protective over anyone since the loss of his late wife, Esme. Yet, there was something about Annabelle that captivated him, something he couldn't shake—some inexplicable bond that pulled him towards her as if she were a flame beckoning him closer.

When he finally arrived in front of her house, he wasted no time. Bounding out of the car and rushing to her front door, he knocked loudly, calling out her name, "Anni!? Annie, please, open the door!" His voice echoed with urgency, but all he received in return was a weak groan.

Panic gnawed at him. With no time to waste, he kicked the door open, rushing inside. "Anni!" he gasped as his eyes landed on her vulnerable form sprawled on the floor. Without hesitating, he knelt beside her, instinctively gathering her into his arms. His heart raced as he pulled out his phone, fumbling to dial Edward's number.