Page 102 of Crucible
I try to take comfort in her words, but the question lingers at the back of my mind. I lean in and kiss her gently. “Let’s try to focus on getting you something to eat. You need to keep your strength up too.”
“I really don’t have much of an appetite right now,” she murmurs. “Maybe later.”
I slip under the covers and settle in beside her, wrapping my arms around her gently. Her head rests on my chest, and I can feel the soft rise and fall of her breathing. The warmth of her body against mine is comforting, and I let out a contented sigh.
Laelia snuggles closer, her hand resting on my abdomen. I kiss the top of her head and tighten my embrace slightly. “That’s okay. We can just be here together. I’m here for you.”
She looks up at me, her eyes full of gratitude and love. “Thank you. It means a lot to me, especially today. I’ve just been feeling off, and it’s nice to have you close.”
I stroke her hair soothingly, trying to ease any lingering worries she might have. “I’m glad I can be here for you. We’ll take it easy, and everything will get better soon.”
Chapter thirteen
The rhythmic thudding of a heartbeat mingles with the relentless clatter of wheels speeding over the floor, creating a disorienting racket that overwhelms my senses. Strobe-like flashes of light cut through the dimness, casting erratic shadows that seem to dance with each pulse of brilliance. My mind struggles to grasp any single detail as this dissonant noise envelops me, making the scene feel almost dreamlike.
Gradually, the background noise sharpens, emerging through the haze of flashing lights and frantic activity. Fragments of voices cut through the din, shouting urgently about a flat line. Each exclamation slices through the clamour, growing louder and more insistent as the lights flicker with increasing intensity. The air is thick with tension, crackling with a palpable sense of urgency.
In the midst of this chaos, a commanding voice bellows, “Stand back!”—a stark prelude to the mechanical whirring of equipment preparing for a jolt. Despite the frenetic preparations and mounting anxiety, my attention is inexplicably drawn to the flat line. Its persistent, monotonous beep—or rather, itsabsence—feels like a relentless drumbeat against the backdrop of confusion.
Why is this flat line so crucial? My mind races to understand its significance. It’s more than just a technical glitch; it symbolises a profound crisis. This unyielding silence where a heartbeat should be marks a critical threshold, where life teeters on the edge. It’s not merely an error on a monitor but a haunting symbol of a moment where the vital rhythm has ceased, casting a shadow over everything else. What does it mean for those around me? What is the significance of this absence, this void?
As I grapple with these questions, the chaotic scene around me begins to waver. The flashing lights and urgent voices start to dissolve, their intensity fading like a receding tide. The disorienting din softens to a distant murmur, and I feel myself slipping away from the frenzy.
Shooting upright, my heart races, and I release a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding. I swipe a trembling hand across my face, the sweat pouring from my pores a stark reminder of the unsettling experience I’ve just endured. This is the second time in recent memory that I've been jolted awake by something so bizarre it’s left me disoriented and anxious. I can’t even begin to fathom what’s causing these episodes. I haven’t indulged in any horror movies before bed, even though I used to, and I’ve been diligent about my sleep schedule, ensuring I get ample rest. As far as I can remember, this is all just figments of my imagination.
But why?
Glancing around the room, I realise it’s morning. Laelia’s side of the bed is empty and meticulously made. She must’ve left for work early, not wanting to disturb me.
A slight rustling near my feet catches my attention, and I spot Meatball, our cat. He leaps onto the bed and fixes me with an intense gaze. Clearly, he’s hungry, and with Laelia gone, it’s up to me to meet his demands.
“Have I become your favourite because your mum isn’t around?” I ask, though I don’t expect an answer. His large, expressive eyes are more than capable of melting anyone’s resolve. If it isn’t babies making women swoon, then it’s pets with their irresistible, pleading eyes.
Meatball meows again, and I sigh in resignation. “Alright, let’s get you fed.”
I slip out of bed and watch as Meatball dashes out of the room, likely heading straight for the kitchen in anticipation of breakfast.
I retrieve a pair of joggers from my drawer and, as I’m about to get dressed, hear another insistent meow. Turning to the doorway, I find Meatball sitting there, his gaze fixed on me, clearly instructing me to follow him. He’s lucky we love him so much.
Noticing that Meatball seems skinnier than usual, a pang of concern hits me. I don’t handle his feeding responsibilities regularly—that’s Laelia’s domain. It’s possible she’s been a bit forgetful lately, perhaps due to what they call “baby brain.” Could that be why she’s been neglecting his feedings?
Meatball meows again, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Alright, alright. I’m coming,” I say, shaking my head with a smile. I move towards him and follow him down the stairs. If Meatball had his way, he’d be a little pudgy by now, but thankfully, Laelia often falls for his charm and ensures he’s well-fed.
Entering the kitchen, Meatball bolts towards his designated spot, while I head to the cupboard to retrieve his food. As I fill his bowl, he brushes up against my ankles, clearly thrilled at theprospect of his meal. Once his bowl is full, he dives in with gusto, eating as if he’s been starved for days.
Satisfied that Meatball is now content and won’t be needing my attention for a while, I retreat upstairs to our bedroom, then into the bathroom. Stripping off my clothes, I step into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over me. The scent of coconut, tangerine, and warm vanilla from the shampoo fills the air, transporting me back to a sunlit memory with Laelia.
In the summer of 2019, we ventured to Cape Verde, basking in the glorious sunshine. Every moment was a treasure: hand in hand strolls along the beach, gorging on all-inclusive delicacies until we felt we might burst, endless drinks, and swimming in both the sea and pool. The nights were filled with lively parties—from a white party and a chocolate fountain event where I indulged in an absurd amount of chocolate, to a glow-in-the-dark paint party where we got covered in vibrant, washable paint. And, of course, there were the unforgettable moments of intimacy, including a daring midday balcony escapade that was a first for both of us.
Turning off the shower, I step out, wrapping myself in a pink towel. I head to the bedroom, grab a fresh pair of boxers, and get dressed for the day. With my appearance refreshed and my beard and moustache neatly trimmed, I hurry downstairs to prepare a coffee.
In the kitchen, Laelia’s coffee mug sits on the counter, the red lipstick stain on its rim a telltale sign of her rushed departure. She must have quickly gulped down a cup of decaf before heading out.
Opening the fridge, I’m greeted by an unexpected sight: it’s stocked only with beer. When did this happen? Where’s the food? I wonder how I ended up with so much alcohol. Laelia usually handles the shopping because I tend to buy unnecessaryitems, but if she’s been too busy, she could have asked me to pick up some groceries.
Frustrated, I shut the fridge door and head back to the entryway to put on my shoes. To ease her workload, I decide to head to the store myself. I grab a backpack from under the stairs, knowing I won’t be picking up much, as my motorbike limits my carrying capacity.
As I open the front door, a flash of pink catches my eye. Laelia’s car keys sit on the cabinet, but if she’s gone to work, why are her keys still here? Did she arrange a lift instead? It’s unusual for her to carpool.