Chapter Ten: Just Tired
623 Words
The morning hit Leia like a slow-motion car crash.
She woke to sunlight leaking through the blinds, the familiar weight of Owen snoring beside her—and a full-body ache that made her wonder if she'd been run over by a herd of shopping carts.
She blinked hard, groaning softly as she tried to sit up.
Her head thudded dully against her skull.
Her mouth was dry.
Her stomach was queasy.
The world tilted a little when she swung her legs over the side of the bed.
She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her palms into the mattress.
God.
Maybe she caught whatever flu was going around work.
Or maybe—
Leia snorted softly to herself.
Maybe I’m pregnant.
The idea was so absurd she actually giggled, covering her mouth to stifle the sound.
Forty-six, two kids grown, and here she was, half-dizzy and giggling like a teenager after missing health class.
She shook her head, laughing it off.
She dragged herself into the bathroom, squinting at the too-bright light.
Her reflection startled her.
Her face looked pale, almost washed out.
There were faint shadows under her eyes that no amount of concealer was going to hide.
“Yikes,” she muttered, poking at her cheek.
She leaned forward, opening her mouth to brush her teeth—and paused.
Her tongue looked dry.
Weird.
She ran it over her teeth, grimacing at the stale taste.
Maybe she just needed coffee and real food.
Maybe she needed to stop standing here analyzing herself like a serial killer examining a body.
---
In the kitchen, Owen stood like a grumpy statue by the coffee maker, scratching his chest absently while his other hand cradled a steaming mug.
His hair stuck up in three different directions.
His eyes were half-closed.
Leia smiled, her heart tugging warmly despite the headache blooming behind her temples.
“Morning, handsome,” she chirped, forcing brightness into her voice.
She poured herself coffee, trying not to gag at how bitter it smelled today.
Maybe she grabbed the wrong roast.
Maybe the milk was bad.
Everything felt just a little... off.
The world tilted again when she bent down to grab her shoes, and she caught herself on the counter.
Owen glanced over, eyebrow barely twitching.
---
She moved through the house on autopilot, pulling on jeans, adjusting her blouse, reapplying mascara that already felt too heavy on her skin.
Everything felt heavier today.
Her clothes.
Her hair.
Even her own limbs.
But she kept moving because that’s what you did.
She had work.
---
Owen lounged at the table, scrolling absently through his phone as she hurried past him.
She grabbed her purse and keys, wobbling slightly in her flats.
She stepped out into the bright morning sun, ignoring the throb behind her eyes, the sour taste in her mouth, the way the ground felt just a little too soft under her feet.
---
Owen watched her go, sipping his coffee, scratching at the rough stubble on his jaw.
He went back to scrolling through a news article about some celebrity divorce he didn’t give a s**t about.
By the time he looked up again, Leia’s car was already pulling out of the driveway, sunlight glinting off the windshield.
Owen finished his coffee, stretched, and yawned so hard his jaw cracked.
He didn’t see the way Leia’s car swerved slightly as she turned the corner.
He didn’t see the way her hands gripped the wheel a little too tightly.
He didn’t hear the faint, choked sound she made deep in her throat when the nausea rose up like a slow tide.
All he saw was the empty driveway.
All he felt was peace.
And all he thought was:
Saturday’s gonna suck.
- Writer
