Chapter 5: After shock

It had been four months since it happened.

Four months since my world was turned upside down, but it felt like no time had passed at all. Every day felt the same—an endless loop of fear, guilt, and confusion.

Yet, somewhere in the chaos, I had managed to regain a sliver of myself. Kaleth spent most of his days with me, his presence like a fragile anchor, keeping me from drifting too far into the darkness. Cleo, my best friend, found every excuse to stay over. Whenever she wasn’t there, I felt her absence like an ache.

Despite their efforts, something still felt wrong. It wasn’t something I could articulate, not even to myself, but I could feel it—a weight pressing down on me, a shadow lurking just out of sight.

“Celine, are you done? You should get downstairs. You don’t want to be late for school,” my mom called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, Mom. I’m coming,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

I grabbed my bag and phone, slinging them over my shoulder as I made my way downstairs. Each step sent a dull ache through my thighs, a painful reminder of the trauma I was trying so desperately to ignore. But it didn’t stop me from walking.

“Have a nice day at school, alright? And come straight home after,” my mom said, her voice tinged with worry as she handed me my lunch.

“Okay, Mom,” I replied mechanically, avoiding her gaze.

The school hallways were their usual chaotic mess—students rushing to class, laughter echoing through the air. But I felt disconnected, like I was watching it all through a foggy window.

When I got to class, Cleo wasn’t there yet. I guessed she was probably busy taking care of her baby sister, like she often had to. I slid into my seat, trying to focus as Mrs. Thomas began the lesson.

“Open to page 97 of—”

The classroom door slammed open, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Cleo said breathlessly, clutching her books to her chest.

“Cleo, not again!” Mrs. Thomas snapped, glaring at her.

“I promise it won’t happen again,” Cleo mumbled, her cheeks flushing as she hurried to her seat beside me.

“To your seat!”

Cleo plopped down next to me, shooting me an apologetic smile. I gave her a small, welcoming nod before turning back to the board.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t focus. My body was in the classroom, but my mind was elsewhere. Slowly, I felt myself drifting away, as though I were being pulled into some dark abyss. I tried to fight it, to hold on, but I couldn’t.

The last thing I heard was Cleo’s voice, screaming my name, and the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as people rushed toward me.

When I opened my eyes, I was staring at a familiar sight—the white ceiling of the hospital.

“Hey, baby. How are you feeling?” my mom’s voice broke through the silence, soft and trembling.

“I’m fine, Mom. What’s the problem this time?” I asked, though deep down, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

My mom hesitated, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “Celine… How do I even say this?”

“Just tell me,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

She took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “The doctors say you’re dealing with depression.”

I let out a small, bitter laugh. “Is that all, Mom?”

“No,” she said, her voice breaking.

I felt my stomach drop. “Then what is it?”

Before she could answer, Cleo stepped into the room. She walked over to my mom, gently taking her hand as if to steady her.

“Cleo, what’s going on?” I demanded, my heart pounding.

Cleo hesitated, then looked me straight in the eyes. “Celine… don’t freak out, but… you’re pregnant.”

Her words hung in the air like a bomb, their weight crushing me. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The world seemed to tilt, the edges of my vision blurring.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, that’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry,” Cleo said softly, her voice laced with sympathy.

I looked at my mom, hoping, praying that she would tell me it wasn’t true. But the look in her eyes—equal parts sorrow and helplessness—told me everything I needed to know.

The room spun, and I clutched the edges of the hospital bed, trying to ground myself. My mind raced, each thought more frantic than the last.

How could this be happening? How could this be real?

Tears streamed down my face as the weight of it all came crashing down. The nightmare I had been trying so hard to move past had left a mark that I couldn’t ignore, a mark that would change my life forever.

My mom reached for me, her arms wrapping around me as she whispered soothing words I barely heard. Cleo stood by, her presence a quiet reminder that I wasn’t alone, even if I felt like I was.

In that moment, I felt broken in a way I didn’t know was possible. The walls I had built around my pain crumbled, leaving me vulnerable and exposed.

But amid the despair, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered something else—a reminder that I had survived. That I was still here, still breathing.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to hold on to.

The days that followed were a blur of emotions—grief, anger, fear, and uncertainty. My mom and Cleo were there every step of the way, their love and support the only things keeping me from falling apart completely.

Kaleth, too, stood by me, his unwavering presence a source of comfort I didn’t know I needed. He didn’t push me to talk, didn’t demand explanations. He just stayed, his quiet strength reminding me that I wasn’t facing this alone.

As the weeks passed, I began to find moments of clarity amid the chaos. The road ahead was daunting, filled with challenges I wasn’t sure I was ready to face. But for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw a glimmer of hope—a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there was still light to be found.

And I wasn’t going to give up.

Not now.

Not ever.