36. Chapter 36

Chapter thirty-six

T he evening has settled in, casting a soft, muted glow into our small living room. The grey sky outside blankets the world in gentle twilight, making the room feel even cosier. The hum of the ceiling fan and the faint scent of vanilla from a nearby candle create a soothing backdrop. Laelia sits beside me on the couch, her legs curled beneath her, her gaze filled with concern and affection.

I’ve been struggling with nightmares for weeks now, and tonight, the weight of them is too much to bear alone. “It’s not just that they’re frightening,” I begin, tracing my finger along the edge of the coffee table. “It’s that they feel so real. When I wake up, it’s like I’m still in them. I’m sweating, my heart’s racing—it’s like I never really escape.”

Laelia turns to face me fully, her hand gently covering mine. Her touch is warm and calming, her fingers interlocking with mine as if to hold me together. “Tell me more about these dreams. What happens in them?”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of my words. “It feels like our accident, but worse. I relive it over and over—the crash, the darkness, the pain. Other times, I’m in a different place, but the fear is the same. It’s like I’m on the brink of something terrible, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get away.”

Her eyes soften with deep empathy, and she leans closer, brushing a strand of hair away from my forehead. “It sounds like your mind is trying to process what happened. Nightmares can be our subconscious’s way of dealing with trauma. Maybe these dreams are trying to help you understand the accident or work through your feelings about it.”

I nod, but my worry still lingers. “But why now? It’s been a while since the accident. I thought I’d moved past it.”

Laelia’s expression is gentle, and she cradles my face in her hands, her thumbs brushing softly against my cheeks. “The brain doesn’t always heal on a predictable timeline. Sometimes it needs more time than we expect. Stress or significant events can resurface old feelings and memories.”

I look down, feeling a bit lost. “I just wish there was something I could do to make them stop.”

Laelia’s gaze is filled with love and warmth. “There are ways to address this. Talking to a therapist might help you explore these dreams and find strategies to cope. But in the meantime, maybe doing something positive could help shift your focus.”

I look up, intrigued. “Like what?”

Laelia’s face lights up with a soft, hopeful smile. “How about visiting your mum tomorrow? I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen her, and reconnecting with family might be really comforting.”

The idea starts to take shape in my mind. “That sounds wonderful. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to see us both.

Laelia’s smile falters slightly, and she strokes my cheek tenderly. “Actually, I’ve got a big work thing tomorrow that I can’t move. I’m really sorry, but I won’t be able to go with you. But I think going on your own could be exactly what you need.”

I feel a twinge of disappointment but understand. I gently squeeze her hand, trying to offer comfort. “I understand. I’ll go visit her. It might be just what I need.”

Laelia’s eyes are full of encouragement and love. “I really think it will help. Spending time with your mum might give you a fresh perspective and remind you of the good things in life, even if the nightmares are making everything seem dark.”

As Laelia speaks, her hand rests gently on her small, rounded bump, a soft gesture that draws my gaze. I place my hand over hers, feeling the warmth and the tiny flutter of our unborn baby. “I want to be better for you and the baby,” I say quietly, my voice filled with emotion. “I want to be strong for both of you. It’s just hard when these nightmares take over.”

Suddenly, a small, distinct kick from the baby makes Laelia and me both gasp. She looks at me with wide eyes, a bright smile spreading across her face. “Oh! Did you feel that?”

I nod, a grin spreading across my face. “Yeah, I felt it! Our little one’s already making their presence known.”

Laelia laughs softly, her eyes twinkling with joy. “It’s like they’re saying ‘hello’ and ‘don’t worry.’” She chuckles and looks up at me. “Maybe our baby’s trying to remind us that even in tough times, there’s still a lot of love and joy to hold on to.”

I chuckle along with her, feeling a sense of lightness. “It’s moments like this that remind me of what really matters. I want to be the best dad I can be for them.”

Laelia’s eyes soften with tenderness, and she moves closer, her other hand coming to rest on top of mine. “You’re already so much stronger than you realise. Our baby has the best dad in the world already. We’re in this together, and I believe in you.”

I look at her, feeling a surge of love and gratitude. “I want to be the best partner and dad I can be. It’s just hard to see past the fear sometimes.”

Laelia smiles warmly, her eyes filled with encouragement. “We’ll face this together. The nightmares are just one part of this journey. With each step, we’re building a future for our little one, and you’re doing great. Your strength and love mean the world to me.”

I take a deep breath, feeling a flicker of hope. “Thank you for being so supportive. Your love means everything to me.”

Laelia smiles, her eyes softening with affection. She leans in, resting her forehead against mine, her breath warm and calming against my skin. “I’m here with you, even if I can’t be there physically tomorrow. Your happiness and peace of mind mean everything to me. I’m always here to support you, no matter what.”

I close my eyes, savouring the closeness of her presence. “Thank you. You’re my anchor, keeping me grounded even when everything feels out of control.”

Laelia gently lifts her head and looks into my eyes with a tender smile. “We’ll get through this together. You’re stronger than you know, and sometimes taking a step back to reconnect with the people who care about us can be incredibly healing.”

I nod slowly, feeling a renewed sense of determination. “Alright. I’ll make the trip. I’ll take your advice to heart.”

Laelia’s smile returns, full of relief and warmth. “I’m sure it’ll be good for you. Let’s get everything sorted tonight so you’re ready to go tomorrow. And remember, I’m just a phone call away if you need anything.”

As we sit together in the dim, comforting light of the evening, the thought of visiting my mother feels like a small but significant source of hope. Laelia’s loving gestures and supportive words make the weight of my nightmares feel a little lighter. Her presence, and the tiny kicks of our baby, are beacons in the darkness. I find solace in the promise of reconnecting with my mum, knowing that I have Laelia’s unwavering love and our growing family to guide me through.