Page 31 of Ghost Of You
“You could have run her over!” I yell, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and relief.
The driver gives me a confused look. “You’re fucking nuts, man! I wouldn’t have run anyone over, besides you!”
I start to head towards the driver’s window, but Laelia’s hand on my arm stops me. “Just leave him alone. He must be blind,” she says, her voice steady despite the situation.
I give the driver one last scowl as he speeds off, throwing me a rude gesture. I’m filled with a mix of anger and gratitude, realising how close we came to disaster. If I hadn’t noticed her in time, it could have been her lying in the street, injured or worse.
Turning to face Laelia, I see her looking at me with shock and sorrow in her eyes. Her eyes are starting to well up, and my heart aches seeing her so shaken. “I’m so sorry,” she says softly. “I wasn’t paying attention. I was trying to find my phone.”
“Just be careful, beautiful,” I say, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “God forbid anything happens to you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The sincerity of my words makes a tear spill from my eye, which I quickly wipe away.
“Don’t start. We both know you’d be fine without me,” she says, trying to downplay the situation.
“I’d die of a broken heart,” I say, my voice cracking as another tear falls.
She reaches up and gently brushes the tear away with a tender smile. “Hormones,” she teases lightly, though her voice is soft. “Are you heading to work?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.
I nod. “I’ve just got to finish a drawing for a client tomorrow. Then I’ll be home.”
“And you?” I ask.
She sighs, her frustration evident. “Headache, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and fever. The list keeps growing. I can’t stand it, let alone focus on my work. All I want is to make sure everything is up to date before maternity leave, and that the kids I’m looking after are in good hands. I don’t want them to struggle because I’m not there.”
Laelia’s compassion and dedication never cease to amaze me. Her selflessness, combined with everything else I adore about her, makes my heart ache with love. If it were just her compassion, I’d still be hers without a second thought.
“How about you go home and rest? I’ll grab a soup and a doughnut from Lola’s for you, just in case you start feeling better,” I suggest gently.
“But you’ve got to finish a design for someone,” she protests.
“I can finish it at home. You’re my priority, Laelia. Plus, today’s my day off. I thought being around people might help inspire the design, but like I said, you’re my priority,” I reassure her.
“Are you sure?” she asks, her eyes searching mine for confirmation.
“Positive,” I say, giving her a reassuring smile. Her smile in return is filled with relief. I lean in and give her a quick kiss, feeling her warmth against me.
“Now go home. I won’t be long,” I say, and she nods.
“I love you,” she whispers.
“I love you too,” I reply, my heart full as I watch her walk away, hoping she finds comfort and rest at home.
Chapter fourteen
After picking up some soup and a doughnut from Lola's, I walk through our front door and into the kitchen, carefully placing the items on the counter-top. The comforting aroma of the soup mingles with the sweet scent of the doughnut, a simple pleasure I hoped would brighten Laelia’s day.
“Laelia, are you here?” I call out, but the silence that follows is almost unsettling. The house feels unusually quiet, and I strain my ears to catch any hint of movement.
I had just come from Lola's, and something about the visit left me unsettled. When I ordered an original glazed doughnut, Lola's reaction was curious, almost alarming. She asked who the doughnut was for, which struck me as odd because I don't normally enjoy plain doughnuts. When I mentioned Laelia's name, Lola's expression shifted dramatically. Her face fell, a mix of sadness and what seemed like disbelief. It was as though she thought I was somehow out of touch with reality. Though Lola remained tight-lipped, I couldn’t ignore the tear that glistened in her eye as I said goodbye and promised to send her love to Laelia.
The reaction was troubling. Why did mentioning Laelia’s name make people react so strangely? It was almost as if talking about her had become taboo. Was it out of concern for her and the baby, a silent hope that talking about her wouldn't bring bad luck? The inconsistency in people’s behaviour only added to my confusion. One moment they’re full of questions and concerns, and the next, they’re distant, avoiding the topic altogether.
I make my way through the house, calling out Laelia’s name once more, but there’s still no response. I search the living room, the bedroom, and every nook and cranny of the house. The emptiness is palpable, and a knot tightens in my stomach.
If Laelia has gone back to work despite her condition, I will be deeply worried. She needs to rest. She suffered a concussion during the accident, just like I did, and the fact that she’s pregnant only compounds the need for her to take it easy. But knowing Laelia, she’s the type who’ll push herself despite her own well-being, driven by a strong sense of responsibility and dedication.
Pulling out my phone, I begin typing a message to check in on her, but just as I’m about to hit send, I see a pair of feet entering my field of vision. I look up to see Laelia standing in the doorway, wearing leggings and a band t-shirt that hangs loosely on her frame.
“Sorry, I was sitting on the decking out back, enjoying the last bit of the sun,” she says, offering a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.