Chapter 5

"Jeremy?"

The voice seemed distant, like it was trapped beneath layers of fog. For a moment, everything was muted, the world around him reduced to a dull hum. His mind was caught in a whirlwind, swirling with fragments of memories he couldn't escape. It was as if he were there again, reliving it—trapped, unable to break free.

A hand touched his shoulder, and he flinched, as if jolted from a dream. The pressure felt both foreign and familiar, pulling him back to the present. The muffled sounds around him began to sharpen, each one gradually piercing the haze. The voice calling his name grew clearer, more urgent.

"Jeremy?" It was softer now, more real.

He blinked, disoriented, his surroundings slowly coming into focus. Solene stood beside him, her eyes filled with concern. It was then that the realization hit him: he was finally home. The weight of reality settled in, heavy and almost disbelieving. He had forgotten where he was, lost somewhere deep in his mind.

The sight of Solene's familiar face tugged at him, grounding him in a way words couldn't. Relief washed over him, slow and profound, but also laden with the burden of everything that had happened. It felt surreal, like waking from a nightmare into a moment of fleeting solace.

"Dinner's ready," she announced softly.

Jeremy's eyes fell on the plate in front of him. Spaghetti. It was their favorite meal—one they'd shared countless times, each bite usually filled with warmth, laughter, and comfort. It was a dish that once symbolized togetherness, a simple ritual that had always brought them joy. But tonight, it felt different.

The sight of it stirred nothing in him. What should have been an invitation to reconnect felt like an assault on his senses. The sauce's rich aroma, once mouthwatering, now felt suffocating, thickening the air with an intensity he couldn't bear. It compounded the pressure building inside him. His stomach twisted, not with hunger, but with dread.

He tried to summon some sense of comfort, some fragment of familiarity—but it was gone, stripped away by the chaos of the past three weeks. The simple pleasure he once found in their shared favorite meal was now another casualty of his trauma. It felt as if the past had robbed him not just of peace, but of his ability to enjoy even the smallest things, leaving him hollow and numb.

Jeremy leaned back in his seat, his movements heavy with the weight of the moment. He propped an arm on the chair, his other hand covering his eyes, trying to shut out the reality before him. Regret surged through him—not just for sitting at the table, but for trying to pretend that anything about this felt right.

BEEP, BEEP.

Solene turned her head toward the kitchen; the microwave had finished warming the corn. She glanced back at Jeremy, noticing the grimace behind his hand. His face was drawn, his eyes distant. She wondered which of his thoughts tormented him the most tonight. As she listened, she caught the uneven rhythm of his breathing—each exhale shaky, carrying the weight of too much to bear. It was clear: he needed space, perhaps just a moment to settle within himself.

She brushed her hand gently over his shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen, her steps slow and deliberate. She knew the tension in the room well by now, thick and palpable, as if each step could shatter something fragile between them. The air felt heavy, not just with anxiety but with a worry that lingered behind her every movement. She wondered how long it would be like this—how long before things began to feel normal again.

As Solene reached for the bowl in the microwave, her thumb grazed its rim, her mind drifting back to the events of the afternoon. Jeremy's distant look then had been no different from now. The smallest reminder of that day seemed to trigger memories that he struggled to contain. Would every moment be this fragile, this unpredictable? The thought filled her with a sudden, sharp regret—regret for not being able to shield him from it, regret for not knowing how to help. But she quickly steadied herself. She had to stay strong, for both of them. She'd promised herself, and she'd promised Jeremy, whether he realized it or not.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to gather hope from the fact that they were here, facing this moment together. She had to believe that this was just the first step, that each day would get a little clearer. They'd make it through this first night. They had to.

Solene returned to the table, finding a small sense of comfort in Jeremy's presence, even as distant as he seemed. At least he was home. With that thought, she returned to the meal with quiet determination, ready to share this simple moment—one step forward, however small it might be.

Sitting across from Jeremy, Solene began to eat. Her hunger had returned with a vengeance after hours of suppressed appetite. Now, each bite filled the gnawing emptiness in her stomach. Halfway through her meal, she noticed Jeremy hadn't touched his plate. Though his hand had fallen from his face, he continued to stare blankly at the food, his mind trapped in a relentless loop. His stomach seemed to mirror the chaos, twisting in discomfort. He pressed his hand back over his eyes as his leg began to shake, his unease surfacing physically. Nausea crept up, and he let out a broken sigh as his leg trembled harder.

Noticing his distress, Solene tried to break the tension. She lifted her head, forcing a warm expression, and cleared her throat before dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "I think your food's getting cold. I'm sure the corn already is," she said, adding a light chuckle. Jeremy's eyes flickered toward her briefly. Solene reached out, gently rubbing his hand, feeling its temperature. "Are you cold?" she asked softly, rubbing his hand again, hoping to offer a bit of her warmth. Jeremy nodded faintly, curling his fingers into her palm, seeking the comfort of her touch.

A tentative smile crossed Solene's face. "You should eat," she encouraged, her voice both firm and gentle. "You haven't had a real meal in a while."

Jeremy slowly let his hands drop to the table, exhaustion etched across his features. "Here, I'll help," Solene offered, rising from her chair. She picked up his fork, twirling a small amount of spaghetti onto it. "Open," she instructed gently, her tone shifting to one of nurturing insistence. Jeremy felt the warmth of the food close to his face but hesitated. The flood of thoughts in his mind felt overwhelming, like debris from a dam burst, trapping everything in its path.

The plate looked good—perfect, even—but there was no comfort behind it, only the cold reminder of how much he had endured. The meal represented everything he had lost, everything that had slipped away. The entire day felt suffocating, each moment piling onto the last, a constant reminder of how far he'd fallen from himself.

"You have to eat, Jeremy," Solene pleaded, her voice soft but urgent. "Just one bite, please."

She carefully placed a meatball on the fork. "I'll let it go if you just eat this one bite," she coaxed gently. Jeremy hesitated, his eyes lingering on the fork as if it were foreign. Reluctantly, he took it and brought the food to his mouth, forcing himself to chew. The once-comforting flavors now felt alien. The texture seemed unbearable, the taste metallic and bitter. Each attempt to swallow felt like a betrayal of his body's instinct to reject.

Solene watched as Jeremy leaned forward, pushing the plate away. She did say she would drop it. At least he had something. She pushed his back late closer to her side of the table. She suppressed her sigh as she saw down slowly. She figured she'll just save it for leftovers for him.

On the other side of the table, Jeremy was spiraling. His body trembled, struggling to keep the food down. His face grew pale, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The food became intolerable—each bite clawed at his throat, refusing to go down. His chest tightened with panic, and the heaviness of his memories made breathing feel impossible. His stomach twisted violently, a sudden, relentless churn demanding release.

His vision blurred as the images in his mind merged with the nausea—overwhelming scenes flashing before him. It was all too much. The taste, the memories, the suffocating pressure. He felt the food rise back up, an uncontrollable wave.

Suddenly, Jeremy bolted from the table, staggering toward the kitchen. He barely reached the trash can before retching violently, his body convulsing with the force of it. The sound was harsh, raw, uncontrollable. His body seemed determined to expel not just the food, but the pain buried deep within.

Solene rushed after him, her heart aching. She reached out, rubbing his back in slow, comforting circles as his body heaved again, each convulsion more painful than the last. His breath came in ragged gasps, the air around them thick with the acidic smell of vomit.

"Breathe, Jeremy, just breathe," she whispered, her voice a mix of urgency and tenderness. But Jeremy couldn't settle; his stomach was determined to empty itself entirely. He retched again, violently, as if purging the last remnants of everything he had held back. His body shook, his face slick with sweat and tears.

Solene wiped his mouth with a napkin as he slumped over the trash can. She handed him a cup of water, but his hand trembled too much to hold it steady. He tried to take a sip, but before he could swallow, another wave of nausea overtook him. He leaned forward, vomiting up the water along with the remnants of the meal. The retching seemed to go on for minutes, each second stretching unbearably long.

Solene stayed close, a steady presence beside him, making sure he knew she wasn't going anywhere. When Jeremy finally stopped, his body seemed completely spent. His knees buckled beneath him, and he slumped slowly to the floor, leaning against the cabinet. Solene guided him down gently, letting him rest his head on her shoulder.

"Here, try this," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. She held out a small cup of Pedialyte with a straw. Jeremy managed to take a few hesitant sips, his throat raw, his breathing ragged. His head pounded, the throbbing almost blinding, but the nausea finally began to subside. The exhaustion settling over him was heavy, making his limbs feel weak and his mind clouded with fatigue.

As Solene cradled him, she could feel his body gradually starting to relax. His breathing slowed, becoming more even, as if a small part of the weight he carried had begun to lift. She glanced at the clock on the wall; it read 10:40 PM. It was late, and Jeremy needed real rest. She hoped that whatever peace he had found in this moment would carry him through the night.

Solene gently stroked his cheek, her touch light against his damp skin. Jeremy stirred slightly, a deep breath escaping him—more like a weary sigh than anything else. For a brief moment, she felt a flicker of relief. It wasn't much, but it was something. For now, that would have to be enough.

"Let's get to bed, okay?" Solene whispered, her voice filled with a quiet resolve.

Jeremy gave a weak nod, his body heavy with exhaustion as Solene carefully helped him to his feet. She wrapped her arm around his waist, guiding him slowly toward the bedroom. As they moved through the dimly lit living room, Solene paused to switch off the lights, leaving only the soft glow of the hallway lamp to light their path. The faint light seemed to mirror the fragile calm that settled over them—temporary, but welcome.

The silence between them was thick, charged with everything unsaid. With each step down the hallway, Solene became acutely aware of Jeremy's tightening grip on her wrist. His fingers pressed into her skin, a mix of desperation and weariness. His hold was strong enough to make her hand go numb, yet the lack of energy in his touch spoke of how drained he truly was.

Finally, they reached the bedroom door. The moonlight filtered in softly, casting a pale glow that felt like a brief reprieve from the harshness of the day. As they crossed the threshold, the familiar routine of bedtime brought a fleeting sense of comfort, one that felt fragile but needed. Solene gently pried Jeremy's grip from her wrist. He released her without resistance, but she noticed the tension in his jaw—a silent sign of the inner turmoil that still gripped him.

Without a word, Solene set their phones on the nightstand, her movements quiet and careful. She pulled back the blankets, fluffing the pillows to make the bed as inviting as possible. When she turned back, she found Jeremy standing still, his gaze fixed on a corner of the room, as if lost somewhere she couldn't reach. Solene approached him slowly, her hand resting gently on his arm. He flinched at her touch but didn't pull away, meeting her eyes briefly with a mix of pain and longing.

"Let's get some sleep," she urged softly, guiding him toward the bed. Jeremy moved mechanically, his motions slow and deliberate. He began to undress, and as Solene reached to gather his discarded clothes, her elbow accidentally brushed against his side.

Jeremy hissed sharply, flinching from the unexpected contact.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Solene exclaimed, panic creeping into her voice. "I'm so sorry!" She dropped the clothes and instinctively reached out to comfort him, but stopped as she noticed the large bruise wrapping around his torso. Her breath caught, a gasp escaping before she could suppress it. She quickly masked her shock, unsure of where to touch without causing more pain. Instead, she gently rubbed his hand, offering silent reassurance.

After gathering his clothes once more, she tossed them into the hamper, her mind lingering on the bruise and the unspoken pain it represented.

...

A little later, they lay in bed together for the first time in what felt like forever. Solene kept her distance, careful not to press against Jeremy's bruises. She listened to his breathing—it was irregular, punctuated by occasional twitches as he struggled to find rest. Each breath seemed labored, a reminder of the battles still raging inside him. Solene watched him closely, hoping he'd finally drift into a deeper, more peaceful sleep.

Her phone buzzed quietly on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a message from Jeremy's parents: they had landed safely in New York. Relief washed over her. They were eager for updates on Jeremy's progress and reassured her that they trusted her to care for him. Their faith felt like an anchor, grounding her amid the chaos and making the weight of the situation slightly more bearable.

Blinking away her own exhaustion, Solene's thoughts wandered back to their reunion earlier that day. It had been both painful and fragile. She was grateful his parents hadn't witnessed the raw vulnerability that seemed to color every moment, but their absence still hurt. She longed for their support, for someone to share the burden of Jeremy's recovery, wishing they could somehow lighten the load he carried.

Finally, Jeremy's breathing began to slow and even out, signaling that he was drifting into a deeper sleep. Solene leaned closer, gently rubbing his head in the familiar, comforting way she knew he liked. He didn't stir, and his snores soon became steady. A small sense of hope washed over her—perhaps this moment of rest would be the first step toward healing, however small.

With Jeremy asleep beside her, Solene felt a mix of relief and lingering tension. She couldn't rest yet; there were still things she needed to do. Carefully, she slipped out of bed, moving slowly to avoid disturbing him. She pulled the blanket gently over his shoulders and paused, watching him for a moment longer before stepping quietly out of the room.

...

Once in the living room, Solene called Jeremy's parents, updating them on the day's events. She spoke softly, explaining his condition with measured words, trying to mask the pain of witnessing his struggle. It was hard for them to process, but they expressed gratitude for her dedication and care. Their reassurance, while bittersweet, was enough to keep her going.

After the call, Solene moved quietly into the kitchen. She cleared away the untouched food, wiped down the counters, and emptied the trash. The familiar motions offered a small sense of order in the chaos that had become their lives. Once everything was tidy, she finally made her way back to the bedroom, exhaustion settling over her like a heavy blanket.

As she gently pushed open the bedroom door, Solene's breath caught when she saw Jeremy leaning over the side of the bed. Alarmed, she approached him cautiously, unsure of what had woken him or what he might be feeling.

"Can't sleep?" Solene asked softly, her voice barely breaking the heavy silence.

Jeremy remained still, his head bowed, as if the weight of his thoughts anchored him. His mind was a tangled mess of memories and emotions—flashes of that day, raw fear, helplessness. The darkness of the room felt like a physical presence, pressing down on him, amplifying every haunting image replaying in his mind. He could still hear echoes of the chaos, see the faces that haunted his thoughts, and feel the crushing guilt that never seemed to leave. It was all too much to process, too much to bear, and speaking felt useless. A part of him wanted to respond, to reassure Solene, but the words seemed lodged deep within him, unreachable.

Solene watched him, her heart tightening at his silence. She knelt down in front of him, carefully reaching out to touch his face. Her fingertips brushed against the dampness of his tears, and the unexpected vulnerability of it hit her hard. "Jeremy?" she called again, this time with more urgency, her voice laced with quiet desperation.

Still, Jeremy didn't reply. His body seemed to retreat further inward, as if trying to shield itself from more pain. Solene's panic rose, her chest tightening. She squeezed his forearm gently, hoping the physical touch would pull him back. "Jeremy?" she called once more, her voice trembling now.

Suddenly, he blinked, as if jolted awake from some distant, unreachable place. His eyes were vacant, lost, like someone who had wandered too far and wasn't sure how to return. For a moment, it seemed as if he hadn't realized she was there at all. Then, without warning, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her in a desperate embrace.

Solene gasped at the suddenness of it, the intensity of his grip catching her off guard. She could feel the desperation in the way he held her, the raw need for connection that words couldn't express. It was as if he was clinging to her, not just for comfort, but for something more vital—something to anchor him in the present. She pressed her lips to his neck, tears began to brew in her eyes.

She wanted to say something, anything that could ease the pain, but words felt inadequate. She could only hold him, offering the one thing she could give: her unwavering presence.

In Jeremy's mind, the embrace was both refuge and torment. He felt a deep, hollow ache threatening to consume him, but Solene's warmth was the only tangible thing that kept him anchored. Her touch seemed to pierce through the darkness—a fragile reminder that he wasn't alone. The weight of everything he had bottled up seemed ready to break free, an overwhelming urge to release it all, yet fear kept his throat tight and his voice silent. He hated feeling this way—broken, far from the person he used to be. But Solene's embrace, even if only for a moment, was a small reprieve from the storm inside him.

After a few moments, Solene gently pulled back, searching Jeremy's eyes. There was a flicker of something there—gratitude, perhaps even a silent plea for help. She offered a small, reassuring smile, hoping it conveyed what words couldn't: that she was here, whenever he was ready to let her in, to let her help.

"Get some rest," she whispered, her voice steady despite the torrent of emotions swirling inside her.

Jeremy nodded faintly, his body seeming to sag with exhaustion as he retreated back to the bed. Solene watched him settle under the blankets; her relief mingled with lingering worry. She turned her gaze toward the window, watching the blurry movements of the world outside. For the first time, the reality of having him home began to sink in, a mix of joy and overwhelming gratitude washing over her. She clung to that feeling, savoring it as a fragile lifeline.

She approached Jeremy quietly, tucking the blanket gently around him. Her hand moved to his head, rubbing it softly as his eyes began to close. "Goodnight," she murmured, her voice a whisper of quiet resolve.

Jeremy's breathing slowly steadied, and soon, the faint sound of his snores filled the room. Solene lay back down beside him, her body finally sinking into the mattress. The past weeks had been heavy, relentless, but at this moment, she felt a small sense of victory—one she was determined to protect at all costs.

As sleep claimed her, Solene's last conscious thought was a promise to herself: she would hold onto this fragile sense of peace, never letting it slip away again. Not after everything they'd gone through.

She wouldn't let anything take him.

Never again.

...Till the Next Chapter...