Chapter Text
Chapter 1
People think grief is a storm. For me, it was fog.
Thick, silent fog that made me forget what the sun looked like. It wrapped around my ribs and settled in my lungs until breathing felt like work. I lived between the lines of fear, blame, and the slow destruction of my very nature.
I kept asking myself the same question, over and over, as if the answer might suddenly appear in the mist.
Where did I go wrong?
Was it something I said? Something I didn't say? Did I miss a sign, turn away at the wrong moment, fail to hold on tightly enough?
Grief does that. It turns you into a detective in your own tragedy, searching for clues that don't exist.
And every morning I woke up hoping the fog would lift, only to find myself standing in the same place, asking the same question.
Where did I go wrong?
I pray to God, if there even is one, that He can hear me.
Because I'm tired.
Tired of losing people. Tired of watching everyone I get close to walking away when things change or when life gets hard. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I'm too much. Or maybe I'm just someone people outgrow.
Either way, the ending is always the same.
I look around and barely recognise this place anymore. The walls are the same, the streets are the same, but everything else has changed. The people are gone. The laughter is gone.
I can't stay here.
It's just not the same.
And neither am I.
Every time you care about something, or someone, it hurts even more when they leave.
And they always leave.
You learn to smile through the pain, to say, "I'm fine," even when your heart feels like it's been cracked open again. You become an expert at pretending.
I have Tilly now.
A dog with muddy paws and a tail that never stops wagging. She doesn't ask questions or expect me to have all the answers. She just stays.
But sometimes, late at night, I look at her sleeping beside me and a terrible thought slips into my mind.
One day, she'll leave too.
Not because she wants to. Not because I did something wrong. Just because nothing stays forever.
And when that day comes...
What will be left of me?
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
Then the day bleeds into nightfall, and she's not there to get me through it all.
The house is too quiet. No paws on the floorboards. No soft huff as she curls up beside me. Just silence.
I let my guard down. I always do.
I tell myself not to get attached, not to need anyone that much, but somehow they slip past the walls anyway. They become part of my life, part of me.
And then they leave.
Every single time.
When they go, they take pieces of me with them, leaving behind cracks that never quite heal.
I thought I was broken before.
I didn't realise a heart could break in the same place twice.
But she's here now, and I need to love the time I have with her. I can't waste these precious moments worrying about a day that hasn't come yet.
Even if I know that the more I love her, the more it will hurt when she's gone.
That's the cruel thing about love, isn't it? The deeper it grows, the deeper the ache it leaves behind.
Tilly lifts her head from her bed and thumps her tail against the floor, looking at me with those warm brown eyes.
I can't help but smile.
I pull on my shoes and grab her lead.
She's the only thing getting me out of the house these days.
Well... her and the occasional trip to the shops.
The second I pick up the lead, Tilly springs to her feet, practically vibrating with excitement. For a moment, the fog in my head thins. Just a little.
Maybe that's what she does for me.
She doesn't chase the sadness away.
She just gives me a reason to step outside of it for a while.
The fresh air helps me breathe more deeply than I have in a while.
The world is quiet at this hour. The sky is still painted in soft shades of grey and gold, the sun only just beginning to wake up. There aren't many people around.
I'm not surprised.
I tend to come out early, before everyone else is awake. It's easier that way.
People ask questions.
They look at you with pity in their eyes or that awkward kind of concern that makes you want to disappear. Sometimes they don't say anything at all, and somehow that's even worse.
So I avoid them.
I keep my head down and walk the same route every morning, with Tilly trotting happily beside me, her tail swishing back and forth like she's carrying her own little piece of sunshine.
She stops every few steps to sniff a tree or inspect a patch of grass as if it's the most fascinating thing in the world.
I envy her.
I wish life could still be that simple.
For a little while, though, with the cool air in my lungs and Tilly by my side, the fog doesn't feel quite so heavy.
Tilly suddenly stops.
I almost walk straight into her.
"What is it?" I mumble, tightening my grip on the lead.
Then I see why.
A few feet ahead of us is another person.
A girl, about my age, sitting on a bench with a takeaway coffee cupped between her hands. She's wearing an oversized hoodie, and despite the early hour, she looks wide awake.
Tilly's tail starts wagging furiously.
"No," I whisper. "Don't you dare."
Too late.
She trots straight towards the stranger.
Mortified, I hurry after her.
"I'm so sorry," I say, reaching for her lead. "She likes people more than I do."
The girl looks up, surprised, and then smiles.
It's the kind of smile that doesn't ask for anything.
"It's okay," she says softly, scratching Tilly behind the ears. "I like dogs more than I like people."
I blink.
Tilly, traitor that she is, immediately sits at the girl's feet.
A laugh escapes her.
The sound catches me off guard.
I can't remember the last time I heard someone laugh this early in the morning.
Or the last time I didn't mind hearing it.
"You've been replaced," the girl says, glancing up at me.
I almost smile.
Almost.
"Seems that way."
She holds out a hand.
"I'm Gem."
For a second, I just stare at it.
It's such a normal thing, introducing yourself. Like we're two ordinary people meeting on an ordinary morning.
But my life hasn't felt ordinary in a long time.
Still, after a moment, I take her hand.
"Pearl."
"Nice to meet you, Pearl."
I don't say it back.
I don't know if it's nice to meet anyone anymore.
But as Tilly rolls onto her back, demanding belly rubs from a complete stranger, I feel something strange stir in my chest.
Not happiness.
Not yet.
Just... curiosity.
And for the first time in a long while, I don't mind that someone else is sharing the quiet with me.