“First, you’re going to breathe,” Jessa says, her usual directness softened with concern. She sits beside me, her hand on my back. “Right now, that’s your only job.”
Jasmine continues counting breaths, her voice calm as the room spins around me. “In, two, three, four. Hold two, three, four, five, six, seven. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”
Jessa’s hand moves in slow circles between my shoulder blades. “Remember when I had that meltdown before my master’s program interview? You sat with me for three hours while I convinced myself I’d never get accepted.”
I manage a jerky nod, focusing on the memory.
“You told me that no matter what happened with the interview, my worth wasn’t tied to their decision,” Jessa continues softly. “The same is true for you, Meesh. Your worth isn’t tied to Connor or this relationship.”
“But he’s—” My voice catches on another sob. “He’s my everything.”
“He’s not,” Jasmine corrects. “He’s someone you love deeply, but he’s not your whole world. You’re Meesha Williams. A brilliant nurse, devoted daughter, loyal friend, pesky sister.”
Jessa squeezes my shoulder. “The woman who proofread my entire application essay at three in the morning. Who helped me prepare for every single interview question.”
“The friend who listens to all my character ideas even when they made no sense,” Jasmine adds with a small smile.
My breathing begins to slow as they continue, their voices gradually pulling me back from the edge.
“You’re the only person who’ll accompany me to country music concerts,” Jessa says.
“The one who leaves thoughtful comments on every chapter draft without fail,” Jasmine smiles.
“The friend who celebrated with me when I got my teaching position.”
“Who knows exactly when to push and when to listen.”
As they speak, the vise around my chest gradually loosens. I take a full breath for the first time in minutes, the oxygen clearing some of the fog from my mind.
“There you go,” Jasmine murmurs, still holding my hands. “Keep breathing just like that.”
Jessa disappears briefly, returning with a cool washcloth, pressing it against the back of my neck. The sensation grounds me further, pulling me fully back into the moment.
“Thank you.” My voice is hoarse.
“Don’t thank us,” Jessa says, with her usual briskness. “Just promise you’ll eat something. You look terrible.”
A startled laugh escapes me. “Thanks a lot.”
“She’s right though,” Jasmine says, tucking a stray braid behind my ear. “When’s the last time you ate?”
I try to remember. “Yesterday? Before the party, maybe?”
Jessa is already moving toward her kitchen. “I’m making breakfast. Jasmine, get her some water. And then we’re going to figure this out. One step at a time.”
Connor
The maple syrup containersmock me, each one perfectly tied with a silver ribbon. Mementos of a wedding that will never happen.
Five days since I walked away from her, and I still can’t bring myself to dispose of them. Maybe a part of me can’t accept it’s over.
I lean back in my office chair, rubbing my eyes as fatigue settles deeper into my bones. Sleep has become a luxury I can’t afford, my mind constantly replaying her mouth on another man’s.
Her voice haunts me, the desperation in them as she stood in the foyer over the past days and Maman coolly informing her I wasn’t available. Again.
“Please, just five minutes. I need to explain...”
Ten years of memories flood my consciousness—her smile after we’d had sex for the first time, the way she’d curl against me during thunderstorms, her determination to learn French just to impress Maman.
