Ending

Chapter 26 - Shifting Faultlines

Sleep dulled the noise around me. I was never fully relaxed, never fully asleep, but at least I was resting.

Resting in my own bed, no less. I pressed my face deeper into the pillow, savoring the softness of the cotton against my cheek.

Straining to focus, I tried to make out the sounds from the kitchen. The smell of bread and meat drifted into my room through the cracked door, spilling faint light into the otherwise dim space.

Another clatter echoed, followed by a low curse from Lilly, clearly trying to keep quiet. I rubbed my eyes and listened as the house settled again.

When I finally stirred, my calf throbbed with a dull ache, a sharp reminder of the injury that hadn't quite healed.

Gritting my teeth, I shifted beneath the covers, the movement pulling at the tender muscles. I braced myself and carefully swung my legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as I stood. The room tilted slightly, and I steadied myself with a hand on the nearby nightstand.

The familiar scent of bread and meat drifted through the cracked door, urging me to move. I took a few slow steps, feeling the pull in my calf with each one, but pushed through it. The soft shuffle of my feet on the floor went unnoticed in the kitchen.

When I finally reached the doorway, I found Lilly at the counter, furiously stirring one of her concoctions, so absorbed in her work that she hadn't noticed me standing there. I cleared my throat softly, leaning against the doorframe to ease the strain on my leg.

She glanced toward the door to her and Ben's room, expecting her husband, then frowned slightly when she didn't see him. Her eyes scanned the room and finally landed on me. A warm smile softened her features.

"Oh, sweetie! How are you feeling?"

Lilly waddled toward me, one hand clutching a mixing bowl while the other reached out to feel my forehead, not waiting for an answer. A thin crease appeared between her brows as she gently pressed her hand against my skin.

"Well, you've still got a slight fever, but it's better than yesterday." She gave my hair a soft pat, smoothing it before her hand drifted back to her apron.

"What would you like to eat?" she asked, gesturing to the mountain of food scattered across the kitchen.

Brownies, casseroles, muffins, and all sorts of dishes covered every surface, with more to come judging by the delicious smell wafting from the oven. The sheer amount of food was overwhelming. I didn't know where to look first.

Ben wandered into the kitchen and groaned at the sight.

"Not this again," he muttered, rubbing his face and sighing heavily.

Lilly spun around, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "Don't you start, Benny."

She waved her spatula in the air like it was a weapon, daring him to challenge her cooking frenzy. Ben just scowled lightly at the clutter before shaking his head in resignation.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sensing the tension building in the room. Both of them turned to look at me.

"Oh, nothing's wrong, baby." Lilly forced a smile. "I just... when I get anxious, I can't sit still, you know? And Ben, well..." She motioned to him with a free hand. "He thinks I'm overdoing it."

Ben sighed again but didn't argue.

Her explanation came out in such a rush of words that it felt like my brain was struggling to keep up. I caught a few key points, but the whirlwind of vocabulary left me nodding, unsure how to respond.

As the day went on, it became clear minute by minute that my hasty decision to come back wasn't without its consequences. 

To an outsider, Ben and Lilly might seem like everything was normal, that life had returned to how it was before the hospital. But being here now, I could feel the undercurrent—something had shifted, something they weren't saying.

I could feel the aftershocks of the shift between us in even the smallest actions they made, the subtle tension that hung in the air like an invisible divide.

Lilly still smiled, calling me by the same affectionate names, but the warmth behind them had faded. The easy glow that once lit up her eyes was gone, replaced by a dull concern that seemed etched into her features. Ben carried it too—a heaviness that neither of them could shake.

It was like a scar they both wore, one I had to face every time I looked at them. Maybe that's why I found it so hard to meet their gaze now.

Something had changed in our relationship, and it left me feeling a bitter mix of regret and self-reproach each time I sensed the distance between us. Yet in the same breath, I felt more cared for than I ever had before, a sense of security I wasn't used to.

It was a contradiction I couldn't ignore—two sides of the same coin revealing one truth: I needed to make an effort this time.

They had given me everything, and it was my own actions that had led us here.

I didn't know how to make things better for them, but I'd try with what little I had left. Because, in all honesty, everything I had now was thanks to them.

I glanced over at Lilly, visibly exhausted, and made up my mind. One step at a time. "Lilly, why don't you and Ben go watch some TV or something? I'll clean up."

She looked startled, her face contorting as she searched for a response. "Oh, you don't have to do that—"

Before she could finish, I did something unusual for me—I cut her off.

"But I want to. I really want to." I clasped my hands together in front of me, the urgency rising in my voice. "Please?"

Lilly's voice caught in her throat as she hesitated. Her hand hovered in the air, ready to protest, when a swift tap landed on her head.

"That's a great idea," Ben chimed in, suddenly appearing behind her. Before she could argue, he took her by the arms and gently ushered her toward the living room.

I watched them retreat, their figures disappearing from sight. The house grew quiet as I turned to tackle the kitchen, quickly setting to work. I cleared the dishes, rearranged the cluttered counters, and stored away the leftovers.

Most importantly, I reached into the back of the cabinet, my fingers brushing against the planner neatly tucked away. My ears perked, alert to any sound of approaching footsteps as I carefully opened it.

I flipped through the pages, scanning the dates and times. Doctors' appointments blurred in and out of focus until my eyes landed on the information I needed.

She'll be here in five days.

Closing the small notebook, I slipped it back into its place, my mind already racing with plans. I had less than a week.

Time to get my problems in order...