Gabrielle
The moment we step through the front door, it’s a whirlwind of noise, movement, and people. Cam’s parents are helping bring in the last of the hospital bags, Kinsley and Wes are talking in the kitchen, and Cam is trying to settle in on the couch while everyone hovers.
He’s smiling and joking with Wes, but I can see it—the exhaustion beneath the show he’s putting on, the way his body is begging him to rest, the subtle but undeniable strain of keeping up with everyone’s energy.
He’s trying to be in good spirits. Trying to make everyone else feel okay. But I know him too well.
He’s overwhelmed.
I glance over at Kinsley and Wes, catching their attention. I don’t even have to say anything before Kinsley nods her head, understanding immediately.
“I think we should get out of your hair,” she announces, shooting Cam a small smile. “Give you some actual peace and quiet.”
Wes grins. “Yeah, before Gab starts getting bossy and kicks us out herself.”
Cam smirks lazily. “She’s not that bossy.”
I cross my arms. “You’re exhausted, and you won’t say it out loud, so I’ll get a little bossy if I need to.”
Wes chuckles, walking over and clapping Cam on the shoulder. “Alright, man. We’re outta here. Get some rest, alright?”
His parents exchange looks before his mom leans down, cupping his face. “We’ll come by tomorrow to check in. Just call if you need anything sweetheart.”
Cam nods, and I can see the relief in his posture as everyone starts making their way out.
The second the front door closes behind them, the apartment falls into a peaceful quiet. I turn to him, and he’s already watching me.
He reaches for my hand, tugging me gently around the couch and toward him until I’m standing in front of him. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
I shake my head. “Don’t thank me.”
His thumb strokes over my knuckles as he gets quiet. “I love you.”
I exhale, feeling those words a little too heavily right now. “I love you too. I just want you to be okay.”
He presses a kiss against my lower stomach through my shirt, resting his forehead there for a second. “I am. As long as you’re here.”
I run my fingers down his neck, onto his shoulders, and he sighs at the touch, his body relaxing. I can see how drained he is and it break my heart.
“Come on,” I whisper, gently guiding him up to his feet. “Let’s get you into bed.”
In the bedroom, he barely makes it under the covers before he’s pulling me down with him. I settle in beside him, tucking my body against his, my fingers continuing to rake softly over his arm. He sighs deeply, his breathing already starting to slow.
“Just rest, baby.”
His lips part slightly like he wants to say something, but sleep wins before he gets the chance.
I stay there for a while, just watching him, listening to the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, he looks peaceful.
I kiss his temple, carefully slipping out of bed so I don’t wake him.
By the time I reach the living room, the weight of everything I’ve been trying to hold back crashes down all at once.
I barely make it to the couch before my legs give out beneath me, then I’m sinking into the cushions, hands covering my face as I let out a sob so raw it hurts.
In the silence of this apartment, where Cam is asleep in the other room, and no one is watching, no one is needing for me to be strong—I let myself feel it all.
The devastation. The overwhelming heartbreak of watching the love of my life go through something so cruel, so undeserved.
The unbearable ache of knowing that every moment I get with him now is leading to an end I can’t escape.
It’s not just sadness, it’s anger too.
I’m so damn angry.
At the world, at the unfairness of it all, at the universe for putting him back in my life just to rip him away from me all over again.
How am I supposed to go on without him now that I’ve had him back? How am I supposed to wake up one day and not reach for him anymore? No longer be able to hear his laugh? Not get to feel the warmth of his arms pulling me in?
I press my hand against my mouth, trying to muffle the sobs, but they keep coming, shaking my entire body. My heart feels like it’s shattering in real time, piece by piece, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I’m just being cut over and over by the shards.
Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I curl up on the couch. My body is wrecked from grief, and my mind feels completely drained.
I cry until my tears run dry.
I cry until I have nothing left.
And at some point, I fall asleep—stuck in the cruelest heartache I’ve ever experienced.