34. Chapter 34

Chapter thirty-four

T he drive home from the vet feels endless, the rhythmic hum of the engine doing little to soothe the turmoil in my mind. Every time I close my eyes, I see Meatball’s frail body and hear his pained meow. I grip the steering wheel tighter, trying to shake the image, but it clings to me like a shadow.

As soon as I park in the driveway, I’m overwhelmed by the quiet that greets me. The house, usually filled with the comforting presence of Laelia and the playful antics of Meatball, feels unsettlingly empty. The emptiness gnaws at me, amplifying my unease. I pull out my phone and dial Laelia’s number, needing to hear her voice, to feel some connection to her amidst the chaos of the day.

The phone rings, each tone stretching out like an eternity. I count them in my head—one, two, three... By the fourth ring, my heart is racing, an inexplicable anxiety building with each unanswered ring. When her voicemail picks up, the automated voice is almost jarring in its formality.

“Hi, this is Laelia. Sorry, I can’t take your call right now, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.”

The beep that follows feels like a finality I’m not ready for. I hesitate, the words stuck in my throat. Finally, I manage to speak, my voice low and strained.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m just... I’m worried. Meatball’s really sick. I had to take him to the vet, and they’re keeping him there. I don’t know what’s wrong yet. And... I woke up, and you weren’t here. I just—call me when you get this, okay? I need to hear from you.”

I end the call and slump onto the couch, my head in my hands. The silence in the house presses in on me, amplifying the sounds of my own breathing, the distant ticking of a clock. The absence of Laelia’s presence is like a void, one that I can’t seem to fill no matter how hard I try to distract myself. Her laugh, her touch, even the way she used to tease me—those memories are all I have to hold onto right now.

I try to focus on other things, but my mind keeps circling back to her and to Meatball. The image of him lying motionless on the kitchen floor, his usual spark extinguished, is burned into my mind. My chest tightens with a mix of fear and helplessness. What if something happens to him? What if I lose him?

I glance at my phone again, half-expecting it to ring with a call from Laelia or the vet, but it remains silent. The urge to call her back is strong, but I resist, not wanting to seem desperate. But the longer I wait, the more the worry gnaws at me.

I try to eat, to distract myself with mundane tasks, but nothing seems to hold my attention. My thoughts are scattered, fragmented by the mounting anxiety. I start pacing the living room, my eyes darting to the door every few seconds, hoping to hear the familiar sound of Laelia’s keys or her soft footsteps approaching. But the house remains silent, the walls closing in on me with every passing minute.

I finally give up on trying to keep busy and retreat to the couch, where I sit and stare at the blank television screen, the remote limp in my hand. Time seems to stretch on endlessly, each second marked by the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. I glance at it again—it’s been nearly an hour since I called her.

Just as I’m about to give in and call her again, frustration and worry gnawing at me, the phone suddenly slips from my grip, clattering onto the floor. The sound jolts me, and I curse under my breath as I reach down to pick it up. The constant anxiety is making my hands shaky, my thoughts scattered. I know I’m spiraling, but I can’t seem to pull myself out of it.

I’m so caught up in the moment that I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear the front door creak open. My heart leaps in my chest, a confusing mix of relief and tension surging through me. For a split second, I freeze, caught between the urge to run to the door and the lingering anger that she didn’t answer my calls.

Before I can decide, Laelia steps into the hallway, her figure silhouetted against the dim evening light filtering through the doorway. She looks tired, her hair slightly disheveled, her clothes rumpled from the day.

"Where have you been?" I shout, my frustration bubbling over. Laelia is just hanging her coat on the stand, her movements slow and deliberate.

She looks up at me, her face a mask of tired sarcasm. “Hello to you too,” she retorts, her eyebrows knitting together in irritation.

“I’ve been texting you all day!” I continue, my voice rising. “You haven’t responded to a single message. What’s going on?”

Laelia lets out a frustrated sigh, her tone clipped. “I’m sorry I’ve been busy with work. I can’t just sit on my phone and respond to you immediately. That’s not how life works.”

I throw my hands up in exasperation. “It’s not just today, Laelia. You’ve been disappearing all the time, going out late and coming back in the early hours of the morning. You barely seem to be around anymore.”

Her face hardens, and she places her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing in a look of disgust. “What exactly are you trying to say, Killian?”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. “Are you cheating on me?”

Her mouth falls open, and for a moment, she just stares at me, blinking rapidly as if trying to process the accusation. I see her eyes starting to glisten, the threat of tears clear. “Y-you really think I would do that?” she stammers, her voice trembling. “I’m growing our child, Killian. How could you even think that?”

The room falls silent for a heartbeat, the air heavy with tension. I can see the hurt in her eyes, the vulnerability she’s trying to mask. It makes my heart ache, but my frustration still simmers beneath the surface.

Laelia takes a shaky step forward, her voice rising. “Is that what you think of me? That I’d betray you like this? I’ve been working my ass off to make sure everything is perfect for this baby, and you think I’m out there sleeping around?”

I open my mouth to respond, but the words catch in my throat. I see the pain in her eyes, the real emotion behind her defensive posture. It’s clear that my accusations have cut deep, and for a moment, I’m overwhelmed by the realisation of how far we’ve drifted apart.

“Killian, I’m not some stranger you can accuse without reason,” she continues, her voice now a mix of hurt and frustration. “I’m here, I’m doing everything I can to provide for our family. But if you keep doubting me like this, how are we ever going to make it through?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I know she’s right; I’ve let my insecurities and fears drive a wedge between us. I need to find a way to communicate without letting my anger take over. I take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I say, my voice softer now. “I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just... I’ve been feeling left out, and it’s been eating at me. I’m scared, Laelia. I don’t know how to handle all of this.”

Laelia’s expression softens slightly, though the hurt remains. “I’m scared too, Killian. But we have to talk about this, not fight. We’re in this together, and if we let our fears tear us apart, it’s only going to get worse.”

I nod, feeling a mixture of relief and guilt. “You’re right. We need to work on this—together.”

Laelia steps closer, her eyes searching mine. “Promise me we’ll communicate better. I need to know that we’re on the same page.”

“I promise,” I say, reaching out to take her hand. “Let’s figure this out. Together.”

I exhale slowly, trying to gather my thoughts. “Something's happened to Meatball," I say. "He... He wasn’t himself this morning. He wouldn’t move, and when I touched him, he meowed in pain. I took him to the emergency vet, and they’re keeping him there for tests. They think it’s a severe infection.”

Her face pales, and she steps closer, wrapping her arms around me in a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs against my chest. “I should’ve been here.”

I hold her close, my hands trembling slightly as I bury my face in her hair, breathing in her familiar scent. “I didn’t know what to do,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I was so scared.”

She pulls back slightly, looking up at me with those deep, expressive eyes that have always been able to calm me, even in the worst of times. “You did everything right,” she says softly. “You got him to the vet. He’s getting the care he needs.”

I nod, though the knot in my chest doesn’t fully loosen. “I just... I couldn’t reach you. I was worried about you too.”

“I’m here now,” she assures me, her voice steady. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there this morning. I had an early meeting, and I didn’t want to wake you. But I’m here now, and we’ll get through this together.”

I nod again, feeling a wave of emotion rise within me. Her presence is like a balm to my frayed nerves, but the worry for Meatball still lingers. I cling to her, needing this connection, this reassurance that everything will be okay.

We stand there for a long moment, holding each other in the quiet of the house. Outside, the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the room, but in Laelia’s arms, I find a glimmer of hope—a belief that, despite everything, we’ll face whatever comes next together.

Finally, I pull back, my eyes searching hers. “I love you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “And I’m sorry for shouting. My emotions got the better of me today.”

She smiles gently, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “I love you, Killian and I was screaming at you the other week for God knows what. So, let’s forget about it and let’s just hope our little fur ball is okay tomorrow.”

As the evening settles around us, we sit together on the couch, our hands intertwined, waiting for news from the vet. The uncertainty is still there, but with Laelia by my side, it feels a little more bearable. And as we wait, I realise that no matter what happens, we’ll face it together—just as we always have.