Chapter 3 The Weight of Yesterday

The next morning, Kimberly forced herself out of bed.

Her body felt heavy, like every bone was made of lead. The air in the apartment was thick with the scent of stale sadness, unwashed sheets, untouched meals, and the faint trace of flowers from the bouquet she had thrown into the sink the night she got home.

She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, staring at her reflection.

The woman looking back at her was not the Kimberly she knew.

Her green eyes were dull, her eye bags where dark and swollen, the glow in them snuffed out like a candle. Her skin, usually warm and radiant, was pale, washed out by the lack of sleep and food. She pressed her fingers against her cheek, tracing the dark circles beneath her eyes.

How had it come to this?

A week ago, she was trying on different wedding dresses, giggling with Samantha about floral arrangements and honeymoon destinations. A week ago, she was happy.

Now, she could barely recognized herself.

Her chest tightened, the familiar wave of grief crashing over her. But this time, she didn't sink into it. She couldn't.

She turned on the shower, stepping under the hot water, letting it wash over her like a baptism. Maybe, just maybe, it would cleanse the ache, the regret, the anger that clung to her like a second skin.

By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a towel, she felt marginally better. Not good. But not as empty as before.

That was something.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

For a second, her heart jumped. Some stupid part of her thought maybe it's him.

But when she picked it up, her stomach twisted. It wasn't Mason.

It was an unknown number.

She almost ignored it, but something told her to check. When she opened the message, her breath caught in her throat.

Kim, I don't even know what to say. I know I hurt you. I know I don't deserve forgiveness. But please, can we talk? Mason.

Kimberly's fingers tightened around the phone.

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

She could barely process the words, barely breathe through the emotions that slammed into her.

After days of silence. Days of no explanation, no closure now he wanted to talk?

She clenched her jaw, emotions warring inside her.

Did he expect her to just listen? To hear whatever pathetic excuse he had and what forgive him? Pretend none of it happened?

Her hands trembled as she typed a response.

There's nothing to talk about.

She hovered over the send button.

Then, in a moment of impulsive fury, she deleted it.

No.

He didn't deserve a response.

With a sharp breath, she tossed the phone onto the bed, her hands shaking.

She would not let him do this to her.

Atleast, Not again.

By noon, Samantha had forced Kimberly out of the apartment.

"You need air," Samantha had said. "Fresh air. Sunshine. Anything but not your four walls and heartbreak."

Kimberly had protested, but in the end, she found herself at their favorite coffee shop, the scent of roasted beans and vanilla curling through the air.

The chatter of people, the clinking of cups, the hum of life it was overwhelming.

She wasn't ready.

She wasn't ready to be around people who didn't know that her life had shattered.

"Stop looking like you're about to cry," Samantha muttered, stirring her latte. "We're here to distract you, not send you into another breakdown, come on girl, don't be so sober even on the outside."

Kimberly exhaled. "Sorry. I just... it feels weird."

"What does?"

"Being here," she admitted. "Like, everything is the same, but I'm not."

Samantha's gaze softened. "That's because everything is the same, Kim. The world doesn't stop just because we're in pain. It sucks, but it's reality."

Kimberly swallowed. "I feel like I'm stuck in this... fog. Like I'm walking through a life that doesn't belong to me anymore."

Samantha squeezed her hand. "That's grief, babe. It's normal for you to feel that way, that's part of the process."

Normal.

She didn't feel normal. She felt like a ghost of herself.

But instead of saying that, she took a sip of her coffee. It was warm. Familiar. A small comfort in a world that no longer made sense.

Samantha smiled approvingly. "See? Small steps. You're out of the house, you're drinking coffee. That's progress, so cheers to that."

Kimberly let out a slow breath. "Yeah. Progress."

She wasn't sure if she actually believed it.

But for Samantha's sake, she tried.