8. Unraveling

It had been five months since the Ruby walked out of Douglas's office, her heart pounding with adrenaline and the thrill of rebellion. Five months since she had decided she was done being a nameless cog in someone else's machine. Five months since she had believed truly believed that she could build something better for herself.

Five months, and she still had nothing.

The young woman sat on the worn gray couch, a throw blanket draped over her lap despite the mild warmth of the apartment. The television droned quietly, some mindless daytime show she wasn't paying attention to. The blinds were drawn, muting the daylight to a dull, grayish hue. Empty mugs and plates cluttered the coffee table, remnants of half-hearted meals and hours lost in the blur of days bleeding into each other.

Her laptop sat unopened beside her. It had been days since she checked her email, weeks since she submitted another job application. Each rejection had chipped away at her resolve until there was nothing left. No fight, no drive, just the heavy, unyielding certainty that she had failed.

She hadn't lost her apartment, though she knew she should have by now. She knew the numbers in her bank account were a joke, barely enough to cover a week of groceries, let alone rent or utilities. She still had power, still had a roof over her head, still had internet to mindlessly scroll through in the dead of night.

And she had those things because of Natalie. Because her sister, her steady, reliable sister, had taken on the weight of Ruby's failures without hesitation. Every time a bill came due, her phone would light up with a quiet, matter-of-fact text from Natalie:

"Just took care of the electricity bill. Don't worry about it."

"I transferred some money for groceries. Make sure you're eating."

"Rent's covered for the month. If you need anything else, let me know."

Each message was a reminder that she couldn't take care of herself, that she was twenty-five years old and incapable of standing on her own. That she was dragging her sister down, a burden on someone who had already built a beautiful, stable life.

Every time her phone chimed, shame twisted in her chest. Each payment from Natalie felt like another confirmation of her failure. The guilt stuck to her skin, thick and cloying, impossible to scrub away.

Somewhere along the way, she had begun avoiding everyone. She dodged Leah's texts, replying with short, evasive responses that she convinced herself sounded convincing:

"Yeah, just busy with job stuff!"

"Hanging in there, nothing new really."

"Doing fine, just keeping to myself lately."

When Leah asked to meet for drinks, she always found an excuse. When her best friend suggested a weekend trip to shake off the gloom, she claimed she couldn't afford it, another truth wrapped in a lie. Leah was persistent, but Ruby's deflections grew sharper, and eventually, the texts came less frequently.

With Natalie, it was harder. Her sister's calls always came on a schedule: weekend check-ins, weekday texts. Ruby made herself answer them, forced herself to sound upbeat and casual, forced herself to smile through the phone even when her chest ached.

"I'm good!" she would say brightly.

"Just sending out more applications, you know. It's a process."

She imagined her sister standing in her own kitchen, Isla babbling in the background, her voice warm but always attentive. Natalie had a way of reading her, even through the phone, like she could hear the hollow cracks in Ruby's voice, the strain of pretending.

But when her sister offered to visit, to drop by with food or Isla in tow, the red-haired woman deflected. She couldn't face Natalie's pity, not in person, not when the weight of her own inadequacy already felt unbearable. So she dodged, deflected, claimed she was too busy, always too busy with a life that had stalled completely.

The days bled into each other: silent, restless, trapped. She stayed curled on the couch or buried under blankets in bed, sleep eluding her at night and clinging to her in the mornings. The thought of opening her laptop, of staring at more rejection emails or watching her bank account dwindle to nothing, made her stomach twist.

She thought of the person she had been when she quit, that girl who had walked out of the office, bold and defiant, heart pounding with the thrill of escape. She thought of that girl and wondered how she had become this: a shadow of herself, buried in guilt and shame, terrified of moving forward and incapable of going back.

Days passed like that, blurring together in a haze of numbness. She stopped counting them, stopped measuring time by anything other than the guilt that weighed her down. She heard from Leah occasionally, her texts checking in. She ignored most of them.

It wasn't until a knock echoed through the apartment that she realized how long it had been since she had spoken to someone face to face. Her heart leapt, a burst of panic swelling in her chest. She didn't answer at first, her breath caught in her throat.

The knock came again, more insistent.

~ Natalie: "Ruby, it's me. Open up."

Her sister's voice, firm but concerned. The red-haired woman's pulse quickened, guilt and dread tangling in her stomach. She stood slowly, her legs stiff from hours on the couch, and pulled the door open.

Natalie stood there, Isla balanced on her hip, her brow furrowed with worry. The little girl's face lit up, and she squealed happily.

~ Isla: "Auntie Wuby!" Isla squirmed, reaching out with tiny, chubby fingers.

Ruby managed a weak smile, the weight in her chest easing slightly at the sight of her niece.

~ Ruby: "Hey, bean." She forced brightness into her voice, but her eyes met Natalie's, and the facade cracked.

Her sister's gaze swept over her: her tangled, unwashed hair, the dark circles under her eyes, the clothes she had barely changed out of in days. Natalie's expression softened, understanding and sadness flickering across her face.

~ Natalie: "Hey. Can we come in?" she said quietly.

~ Ruby: "Yeah, of course." the young woman nodded, stepping aside, her voice barely a whisper.

As Isla wriggled free and toddled across the room, Ruby sank back onto the couch, shoulders curling inward. Natalie followed, lowering herself onto the cushion beside her.

~ Natalie: "I've been worried. I know you say you're okay, but…I can tell when you're not" she murmured.

The red-haired woman's throat tightened, the ache in her chest throbbing with each heartbeat. She wanted to say she was fine, to pretend everything was manageable, but her voice cracked when she finally spoke.

~ Ruby: "I don't know what to do, Nat. I don't know how to fix this."

The tears came suddenly, hot and burning, spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them. The shame and guilt poured out, months of silence and hiding unraveling all at once.

Her older sister's arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, holding her tightly. Her sister's voice was steady, calm, a grounding presence.

~ Natalie: "It's okay. You're not alone. I'm here." she whispered.

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⛴️ 𝑵𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒓 ⛴️

🚢 🚢

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Ruby's breath shuddered, catching in her throat. The weight of her sister's embrace and the quiet reassurance of her words unraveled something deep inside. The months of failure, isolation, and guilt collided all at once. Her tears fell freely, staining the shoulder of Natalie's sweater, but she didn't have the strength to care.

~ Ruby: "I don't think I can, Nat. I don't know how to fix this. I've tried...I've tried everything, and nothing works. No one wants to hire me. I'm just… useless."

Her sister pulled back just enough to see her face, her expression etched with concern. Her eyes, so similar to Ruby's, were steady and patient, waiting.

~ Natalie: "You're not useless, Ruby. You had the courage to leave a job that made you miserable. That's not nothing."

She shook her head, the bitterness clawing its way up her throat.

~ Ruby: "But it feels like nothing. I thought I was doing something brave, something that would change everything, but I just screwed it all up. I can't pay my bills. I can't pay my rent. I'm twenty-five years old, and I can't even take care of myself. You're paying for everything, and I hate it. I hate that I need you to save me."

The words tasted bitter, sharp and jagged. The guilt she had buried for months finally spilling out into the open.

~ Ruby: "I feel like a failure. I'm just… stuck. I'm stuck and I don't know how to get out. I ruined my own life, and I don't know how to fix it."

Her shoulders hunched forward, every breath unsteady, like her lungs were too heavy to lift. She felt raw, exposed, a mess of shame and regret.

Natalie's gaze didn't falter. There was no disappointment in her eyes, no judgment. Just a steady, unbreakable love. She reached out, tucking a strand of tangled red hair behind Ruby's ear, a gesture that reminded her of their childhood.

~ Natalie: "You didn't ruin your life. You made a choice because you knew you deserved better. And maybe it didn't go the way you thought it would, but that doesn't make you a failure. It makes you someone who tried, someone who didn't settle."

~ Ruby: "But what do I do now? I don't have a backup plan. I don't have anything. I've applied to every job I can think of, and no one wants me. I don't have any hope left. I'm just… empty." her voice trembled.

The confession hung in the air, heavy and fragile. It was the truth she had been carrying in silence, the fear that had kept her trapped in her apartment, hiding from everyone who cared about her.

The older sister grip tightened gently on her shoulders, grounding her.

~ Natalie: "I know it feels impossible right now. I know it feels like there's no way out. But I promise you, Ruby, you're not alone in this. I'm not going anywhere. Leah isn't going anywhere. We're here, and we're going to figure this out together."

Ruby's chin trembled, her vision blurred with tears. The ache in her chest was unbearable, a dull, relentless pressure that made it hard to breathe. She had been carrying it for so long: this fear, this guilt, this overwhelming sense of failure. And she didn't know how to let it go.

~ Ruby: "I'm so tired, Nat. I'm tired of feeling like this. I just want to be okay again. I want to be someone who knows what they're doing, who doesn't need everyone to save them."

The older woman's eyes glimmered with tears of her own, but her voice was steady, unwavering.

~ Natalie: "You will be okay again. I promise. It won't always feel like this. You're not a burden, and you're not a failure. You're my sister. I love you. I'm not giving up on you, even if you feel like giving up on yourself."

Ruby's sobs were quieter now, less frantic, but still painful. Isla's little hands reaching up toward Ruby's face.

The innocence of her niece's gesture cracked something open inside her, a tenderness that made her heart ache. She forced a fragile smile, tears still wet on her cheeks.

Isla's tiny fingers brushed her face, clumsy but gentle. Her eyes were wide and uncomprehending, but the purity of her affection, of her need to comfort, made the darkness inside the young woman's chest lift just a little.

She pulled the little girl into her lap, hugging her close, the soft weight of her niece's body grounding her. Natalie's arm stayed around her, a steady presence that didn't waver. The silence stretched between them, heavy but no longer suffocating.

In that moment, with Isla's warm cheek pressed to her shoulder and Natalie's steady hand resting on her back, the red-haired young woman felt a sliver of hope, small and fragile, but there. It wasn't enough to chase away the doubt, to erase the fear, but it was something. It was a beginning.

Maybe she didn't know what to do yet. Maybe she was still trapped in the dark, uncertain of how to move forward. But she wasn't alone. She still had people who loved her, people who saw her worth even when she couldn't.

And for now, that was enough to hold on to.