14. Chapter 14

Chapter fourteen

A fter picking up some soup and a doughnut from Lola's, I walk through our front door and into the kitchen, carefully placing the items on the counter-top. The comforting aroma of the soup mingles with the sweet scent of the doughnut, a simple pleasure I hoped would brighten Laelia’s day.

“Laelia, are you here?” I call out, but the silence that follows is almost unsettling. The house feels unusually quiet, and I strain my ears to catch any hint of movement.

I had just come from Lola's, and something about the visit left me unsettled. When I ordered an original glazed doughnut, Lola's reaction was curious, almost alarming. She asked who the doughnut was for, which struck me as odd because I don't normally enjoy plain doughnuts. When I mentioned Laelia's name, Lola's expression shifted dramatically. Her face fell, a mix of sadness and what seemed like disbelief. It was as though she thought I was somehow out of touch with reality. Though Lola remained tight-lipped, I couldn’t ignore the tear that glistened in her eye as I said goodbye and promised to send her love to Laelia.

The reaction was troubling. Why did mentioning Laelia’s name make people react so strangely? It was almost as if talking about her had become taboo. Was it out of concern for her and the baby, a silent hope that talking about her wouldn't bring bad luck? The inconsistency in people’s behaviour only added to my confusion. One moment they’re full of questions and concerns, and the next, they’re distant, avoiding the topic altogether.

I make my way through the house, calling out Laelia’s name once more, but there’s still no response. I search the living room, the bedroom, and every nook and cranny of the house. The emptiness is palpable, and a knot tightens in my stomach.

If Laelia has gone back to work despite her condition, I will be deeply worried. She needs to rest. She suffered a concussion during the accident, just like I did, and the fact that she’s pregnant only compounds the need for her to take it easy. But knowing Laelia, she’s the type who’ll push herself despite her own well-being, driven by a strong sense of responsibility and dedication.

Pulling out my phone, I begin typing a message to check in on her, but just as I’m about to hit send, I see a pair of feet entering my field of vision. I look up to see Laelia standing in the doorway, wearing leggings and a band t-shirt that hangs loosely on her frame.

“Sorry, I was sitting on the decking out back, enjoying the last bit of the sun,” she says, offering a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

I immediately close the distance between us and open my arms. She steps into my embrace, and I wrap my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head. Her body feels unusually cold to my touch, and her skin is pale, devoid of its usual rosy hue. It’s as though the life has been drained from her.

“You look like death warmed up,” I say softly, my voice laced with concern. “You need to rest and take it easy. No work for you tomorrow until you start to feel better.”

Laelia sighs, the sound almost imperceptible. “I hate being sick.”

“You’re pregnant, and on top of that, you’ve likely caught the flu. You need to be off your feet. You’ve been overexerting yourself with that case you’ve been working on.”

“I know,” she mumbles, pulling away slightly to look up at me. Her chestnut-coloured eyes hold a depth of emotion that makes my heart ache. “I just don’t want anyone to be alone. I don’t want you to be on your own when I’m not here. But I also want to leave a positive impact on people’s lives. I don’t want to be forgotten about.”

I gently caress her chin with my thumb, my heart swelling with affection and empathy. “Just because you’re not here doesn’t mean I’ll forget about you. I always think of you.”

“And I always think about you. No matter where I am,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

Standing on her tiptoes, she kisses me, and I melt into the kiss, savouring its softness and the depth of emotion it conveys. It feels almost surreal, like a moment from a dream, but the warmth and tenderness are unmistakably real.

When she finally pulls away, I feel a pang of loss.

“It’s Charlie’s birthday today,” she says, shifting the topic.

Charlie is a young boy who lives a few houses down. His parents, Philip and Mandy, own a landscaping business and built our patio when we moved in. They’re friendly, and we occasionally see them around town or at the local pub. Every year, they host a birthday party for Charlie, and we’re always invited. Today, Charlie turns ten, and we were supposed to attend his party this evening. I had already messaged Philip and Mandy earlier, explaining that we couldn’t make it due to Laelia’s condition. They responded with understanding and warm wishes.

“I’ve already told them we can’t go,” I say, not wanting to dwell on the disappointment.

Laelia’s face falls, a look of genuine regret crossing her features. “I wanted to go.”

“I don’t think either of us are in the right frame of mind to go,” I say gently, my heart aching at the sight of her disappointment. All she ever wants is to please others, even when she’s not at her best. “How about this?” I suggest. “We can sit out back on the decking later and watch the fireworks from afar. That way, we’re still celebrating with them, just from our own little spot.”

Her frown slowly fades, and a beautiful, relieved smile spreads across her face. “Under a blanket?” she asks, her voice tinged with hope.

“Yes,” I reply with a chuckle. “Under a blanket.”

Laelia’s smile grows, and she nods, the light in her eyes returning, if only for a moment. It’s a small comfort, but sometimes it’s the little things that make the biggest difference.

We spend the next few hours preparing for our quiet celebration. I make sure to get a cosy blanket and set up a few pillows on the decking. Laelia helps when she can, though her movements are slow and deliberate, a testament to her fatigue. As the evening approaches, the sky darkens, and we settle down under the blanket, our backs resting comfortably against the cushions.

From our vantage point, we can see the distant fireworks lighting up the night sky. Their vibrant colours and dazzling patterns offer a mesmerising spectacle, and though we’re not at Charlie’s party, it feels like a shared celebration in its own way.

Laelia leans against me, her head resting on my shoulder. I can feel her breathing slow and steady, a sense of peace settling over her. The fireworks continue to burst overhead, their reflections dancing in her eyes. Laelia has always adored fireworks, and because of that, we make it a tradition to either visit the park or to celebrate at Ethan's on New Year's Eve, making the end of a beautiful year and the start of a new one.

Every time the sky lights up with those brilliant bursts, I'm reminded of our first New Year's together at Ethan's—the night that ended with a bang, both in the sky and in our hearts.