45 - Sunday, July 4

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It was only under the silver watch of the moon in the night sky that I stirred back to awareness, peering into the inky blackness and back at the boy beside me. We were still nestled under the downy blankets, his head tucked softly against my torso. And though my arm had turned to stone beneath his body, I was the most content and peaceful.

Underneath the faint starlight, I could just make out the lines of his face. His rose-petal lips were slightly parted, and his lashes fluttered ever so lightly with every cute snore. I stayed unmoving, afraid to disrupt, smiling at the way his chest rose and fell in tranquil breath. I felt a heavy tug within my chest. Not of sadness, but of deep affection—a serene warmth that oozed within my veins and swelled every hollow nook and crevice within my heart until it hummed.

But despite such comfort, I was seized by an anxious thought, oblivious to the time that had slipped by. Careful to keep his peace and the gentle smile on his face undisturbed, I disentangled my arm from the warm embrace and bid a silent farewell to his slumbered thoughts with a soft kiss on the forehead. He didn't even move, as though refusing to part with his dreamy sleep.

Wooden floorboards creaked beneath every footfall and echoed through the nocturnal quietness of the house as I moved as though in a dreamlike haze toward Alex's room at the other end of the hallway. An urge welled up to share what had happened that evening, to share half of my peace, to tell her about the unfamiliar sense of consolation and thankfulness I felt. But not wishing to disrupt her sleep at such an ungodly hour, I tried to tip-toe my way across as quietly as possible.

The door easily yielded to my tug, stirring the air with a lively draught that skipped out of the room and greeted me, carrying with it a crisp chill. But it was the figure on the windowsill that held my attention, curled inward with her head resting on folded knees. The window behind her was flung open, inviting the outside world to come in and flirt with the edges of her hair.

"That doesn't look like a comfortable position to sleep in."

My words felt swallowed by the vast silence, her stillness causing worry to take root in my heart. And as I tentatively walked up, my ears caught a subdued sniffle that pierced the moonlit night. It made my heart clench.

"Alex?"

She raised her head to lock eyes with mine, but her trembling lips voiced no words. Instead, the shimmering moonlight danced across her tear-stained cheeks, the droplets catching the light. I could see her sadness, and I could suddenly feel my own. It was written in the stony silence and the lingering depth of her stare.

My hands brought her close without a second thought. "It's okay," I murmured into the crook of her neck. "It's alright, baby. Tell me what's wrong."

"A nightmare."

My fingers trailed the curve of her spine, tracing a tender path that hopefully whispered of comfort. "The same one?"

"I hadn't had it in months," she said, her breath hitching. "And when I woke up alone, I thought—"

A heartrending cry broke through, a sound so raw it muted everything else and tore at my soul. Tightening my hold around her, I led us to the bed, where her salty tears soaked through the fabric of my shirt. She held on tight, as though I was the only mooring keeping her from being swept away by her emotions. As though I held the power to tether her to the earth.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm here now," I muttered. "I fell asleep with Benji."

"I know. I saw."

My fingers sifted through her hair, trying to offer at least a distracting touch. "If you want to talk about it, or anything else, then I'll listen. Just breathe and let it out, okay? I'm here."

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