Sleeping Over
884 Words
The metal edges felt cold against her skin, colder than they should have been, and she realized absently that her hands were shaking.
She steadied them before bringing the phone up.
The screen lit her face faintly as she dialed.
The call rang once.
Twice.
Each ring seemed louder than the last, echoing too clearly in her ears, filling the space between breaths. She stared straight ahead, unfocused, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular as she waited.
“Elara?”
Her mother’s voice came through warm and familiar, instantly tightening something in Elara’s chest. “What’s up? You’re just across the hall. Why didn’t you knock?”
For a moment, Elara could not speak.
She pressed her lips together, inhaled slowly through her nose, then let the breath out in a controlled stream before answering.
“Mom…” Her voice came out softer than she intended. “I stepped out for a bit. I had something I needed to take care of.”
She hesitated, the words catching halfway to her mouth.
“I don’t think I’ll be back tonight.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
Not alarmed. Not accusing. Just quiet, attentive listening.
“Are you okay?” her mother asked gently. “You sound hoarse.”
Elara closed her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly—too quickly. She immediately slowed herself, forcing a small, unconvincing laugh. “Really. It’s just the weather.”
Another pause followed, longer this time, softer somehow, as though her mother were choosing her next words carefully.
“So what’s keeping you out?” she asked. “Your father just got into bed a while ago. “Did you even tell him you were leaving?”
Elara’s chest tightened painfully.
She pressed her free hand against her ribs, as if that might steady the feeling there.
“No,” she admitted quietly. “I didn’t.” Her voice dropped further. “Please… don’t tell him.”
She opened her eyes again, staring down at the floor now.
“Where is he?” she asked, needing to hear it aloud.
“He’s asleep,” her mother replied. “Like a baby. He needs it after everything.”
The words loosened something inside Elara that she had not realized was clenched.
“I know,” she said softly. “You do too. I won’t keep you up.”
Her mother sighed gently. “Alright. Just take care of yourself.”
“I will,” Elara promised, even though she did not know if it was true. “Good night, Mom.”
“Good night, Elara.”
Then the line went dead.
Elara did not move right away.
She stood there with the phone still resting against her palm, the dark screen reflecting faintly back at her face. The room felt too quiet now, as though even the air were waiting. When she finally lowered her hand, she slapped the phone lightly into her other palm, the sharp sound grounding her, pulling her back into the moment.
She turned toward Damien.
“Well,” she said flatly, forcing neutrality into her tone, “that settles it. I’m staying.” A pause. “Where am I sleeping?”
“The sitting room,” Damien replied without hesitation. “Do you expect me to give up my bed?”
Elara opened her mouth to answer, then stopped.
Before she could say anything, Kate’s voice cut in, bright and curious, her sudden energy lifting the room in a way that made Elara’s jaw tighten, and she had even forgotten that kate was even there.
“Then where am I sleeping, Damien?”
“In my room, ” Damien replied.
Kate’s face lit up immediately, her excitement open and unguarded. “So we’re sleeping together?”
Damien blinked, clearly unprepared for that interpretation. “No,” he said. “You’ll be in the room. I’ll take the other couch.”
The light drained from her face just as quickly as it had appeared.
“Oh.”
She shifted her weight, thinking, then offered hesitantly, “Why don’t I take the couch? Elara can stay in the room.”
Damien smiled faintly, the expression almost indulgent. “I don’t think Elara would like that. She enjoys the couch.”
Elara let out a small cough, more reflex than reaction, shaking her head once.
She did not argue. She no longer had the energy.
She dropped onto the couch, the cushions dipping beneath her weight as she folded her arms across her chest. Her gaze drifted away from them as they continued talking over her, laughter punctuating the space in a way that scraped against her nerves. Every sound felt amplified. Every smile Damien gave felt intentional.
At some point, she realized she was staring.
“Elara?” Damien called.
She blinked, pulled abruptly back into the room. “Yes?” Her voice was sharp despite herself. “Do you need me to do something else?”
“No,” he said dryly. “But stop looking at me like you’re planning my murder.”
She did not respond.
She simply turned and layed onto her side, facing the back of the couch, her eyes fixing on the ceiling above her as the room finally began to quiet.
- Writer
