Page 87 of Requiem
He doesn’t say anything at first. He just pulls me into him, arms tight and familiar in a way that strikes deeper than anything else. “Fuck, man…” he exhales.
My heart squeezes at the history wrapped up in that one breath, and I hold onto him just as hard. “Hey, Micah,” I say quietly. “I’m okay.”
He nods against me, and when he pulls back, his eyes are wet. I know mine probably are too. And then I look past him, and I see her.
Adriana hasn’t moved. She stands near the couch, completely still, like she’s too nervous to intervene. But all of her attention is locked on me.
My chest tightens, but it’s different now. It’s heavy and complicated. I hesitate for a second, but then I step toward her. She doesn’t move at all. She just watches me, her eyes searching my face like she’s trying to find something she thought was gone for good.
When I stop in front of her, we don’t speak. We just look at each other. And for the first time, I don’t see her through that fractured lens. Not through the pain, the control, or everything that was forced into both of us.
I seeher.
Tired, human, and carrying almost as much trauma as I am.
I don’t forgive her. I’m not there. But I’m not where I was, either. Slowly, I open my arms, and that’s all it takes. She breaks, a soft sound leaving her as she steps into me. Her hands clutch at my shirt while she presses her face into my shoulder. I feel her body shake with small sobs.
“I didn’t know…” she chokes. “I didn’t know if you’d ever—”
Her voice collapses completely, and I just hold her. “It’s okay,” I murmur, even though I don’t know if it is yet.
But she nods anyway. “Emma did it,” she says through tears, pulling back just enough to cup my face. “She brought you back to us.”
My gaze shifts, finding Emma without thinking, and it feels like my soul settles into place.
Yeah. She did.
Though I fight the urge to say,for now.
***
The room still feels weird. Not because it’s unfamiliar, but because I am.
I sit at the dining table, feeling like I’ve stepped into a version of my life that moved on without me. The edges of my vision warp, and my chest vibrates with a kind of anxiety. I glance down at my hands, noticing how they, too, are blurring. The last time I felt this was at Alexei’s penthouse party when I went outside and looked over the edge of the balcony like I wanted to jump and fall to my death.
What is happening?
It should feel normal, but it doesn’t.
My fingers twitch at my sides, not quite knowing what to do with the absence of control. I flex them slowly, grounding myself in the motion, and the fact that they sort of listen to me now.
ThatI’mthe one deciding what they do and who they don’t kill.
My gaze drifts across the room again, slower now, taking in the details. The way people I don’t even know are helping the ones I love more than anything. My stomach clenches at the unfamiliarity of it. From the realization that this…this ordinary, unremarkable moment is something I almost didn’t make it back to.
I swallow against the feeling, my jaw tightening as I force myself to stay right here, in this version of reality. I don’t realize how quiet I’ve gone until someone says my name. I rest my forearms on the table, my fingers loosely laced together in an attempt to ground myself.
Rafe is watching me. His gaze is calm, like he’s cataloging every shift in me. “You’re quiet,” he notes, his tone casual. “That’s either a very good sign…or a very dangerous one.”
A small breath leaves me. “I think I’m just…here,” I say, and even to my own ears, it sounds strange. “Even if I don’t…feel it. I just—it’s weird.”
Emma’s hand finds my arm under the table, and I don’t flinch. “What does it feel like?” she asks.
I swallow. “I have moments where everything around me looks blurry…or not real. I feel like I’m almost in a dream. My chest will feel weird, too.”
She hums to herself. “That sounds like a derealization episode, Jude. It can happen after someone experiences trauma. It’s not permanent.”
“Okay.” I sigh. “Everything just…feels different than I remember.”
