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THE GARDEN IS QUIETER THAN usual today. There’s a stillness in the air, like the world’s decided to slow down for once. I’m curled up on the wooden bench by the pond, sleeves pulled over my hands.
Pride and Prejudice rests on my lap, the pages worn from the last few days. I’m about halfway through. I flip to the dog-eared corner I folded earlier and skim over the words I already read last night.
Elizabeth Bennet is in the middle of some conversation, probably destroying another man’s ego with nothing but her wit.
I like her. She’s confident and fiery and holds her ground even when people underestimate her. She’s brave too. Maybe that’s why I like her. Because she’s everything I’m not. At least, right now.
I needed something to read. Something other than Aaron’s letters. So this is what I picked.
The last one he sent me was talking about how his tournament went. Royal United placed first. I’m proud of him. And so, so happy. I just wish I can tell him that.
I wish I could write him back. I hope he doesn’t think that I don’t want to. I do. So badly.
I’m just not allowed. No texts. No calls. Not even writing letters.
I glance at the pond in front of me. The water’s still. Perfectly still. Like it’s holding its breath, too.
“Carmen!”
Lifting my head, I watch as Dr. Adesina heads towards me with a small smile on her lips.
My brows furrow. “I thought we didn’t have a session today?”
“We don’t, love.” Her smile only grows. “You’ve been progressing well so I have a little something for you.”
I sit up straight, my lips parting in shock. “You do?”
She nods her head once, stern but playful.
Last time, it was the letters. Now? I hate to say it but I’m both excited and curious to find out.
“Follow me.”
Doing as she says, I quickly stand up, clutching the book in my hand as I catch up to her. “Are you gonna tell me what it is?”
She glances at me, laughing quietly. “You hate surprises, don’t you?”
I do. I don’t like the idea of being blindsided by something, but… all I can think about are the surprises Aaron used to do for me, and now? Maybe I’m starting to like them.
“I’m just a curious person.” I shrug, sending her a smile back.
That curiosity is growing as we step inside the building and we stop right in front of the phone station. Before I can ask what we’re doing here, she beats me to it.
“Here’s your next privilege.” Her hands clasp with excitement as she waits for my reaction.
Is she serious?
“Yes, I’m serious.”
Bloody hell. It’s like she can read my mind.
“I can call anyone?” My heart’s pounding with shock or excitement. Maybe both.
“Anyone,” she replies, a knowing look in her eyes.
“Thank you,” I breathe out. “Thank you so much.”
“Thank yourself, Carmen. You’re the one taking the steps to getting better.”
She’s helped me more than she can ever realise. Talking about it, all of it, the feeling of being ignored, not noticed, invisible. It makes me feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. She makes me feel heard too, understood, and explains why I felt that way.
It feels good not to be blamed for once.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” She sends me one last big smile before walking off.
I grab onto the telephone. I can call anyone. Anyone.
But there’s one person I really need to talk to. One person that’s been on my mind ever since I got here.
I heave a deep breath as I slowly press the numbers I didn’t even realise I’ve memorised. Then, my finger hovers over the call button. The need to hear his voice gets to me and I press it without a thought.
It rings. And rings.
Until it stops.
“Carmen?”
His voice. My heart actually skips a beat. It’s him. It’s him.
And it’s exactly how I remember it, low, a little breathless, warm, and soft. The kind of voice that always made my chest feel lighter, even when everything else felt like it was crashing down around me.
I press the phone tighter to my ear, like that’ll somehow pull him closer. Like I can hold on to him through the static.
I forget how to speak. For a second, I just close my eyes and breathe. And maybe it’s stupid, maybe it’s ridiculous, but I feel tears press against the backs of my eyes.
“Carmen?” he says again, softer this time. There’s something like disbelief in it. Like he’s scared he’s dreaming my voice. “Is it really you?”
A shaky laugh escapes from me before I can stop it. “Hi, Aaron.”
And God, the way he breathes out my name after that—”Carmen”—like it’s the first time he’s let himself say it out loud in weeks. It nearly breaks me.
“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Is this real? Are you okay? Are they letting you call now? I didn’t think I’d hear from you. I—fuck, I’ve missed you.”
I bite down on my bottom lip nervously, nodding even though he can’t see me. “I missed you too. So much.”
There’s a pause. Just breathing. Just feeling. Like we’re both trying to memorise this moment before it slips through our fingers.
“I got your letters,” I say, my voice quiet. “And I’ve read them all. Over and over.”
“You did?” he asks, voice cracking. “Fuck, I didn’t even know if they were getting through. I just kept writing ’cause… I didn’t know what else to do.”
I press a hand to my chest, fingers curled around the fabric of my hoodie. “They helped me. You helped me.”
“God, Carmen.” He’s silent for a second. I can tell he’s trying not to cry. “I wanted to see you. I wanted to be there. But they wouldn’t let me—Felix said—”
“I know,” I whisper. “It’s okay. You were there, though. In the letters. That was enough.”
“How are you doing?” he asks.
Tears prickle my ears and I blink desperately trying to hold them back but I fail miserably. “I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I’m so sorry.”
I lied. I was mean. I was selfish. I didn’t even think of how he would feel when I took his pills…and overdosed. What is wrong with me?
“It’s okay,” he tries to soothe but it’s not working.
A sob escapes me before I quickly dart my hand to cover my mouth. “No, it’s not.”
“Don’t cry, Carmen,” he mutters. “Please.”
The way he says it. Like hearing me cry does something to him. Breaks him. But for some reason, I just can’t stop.
“I regret it,” I choke out. “The stuff I said, what I did after. All of it.”
“Fuck—I don’t care about any of that,” he whispers. “I’m just happy I’m hearing your voice.”
How? How can he be so sweet to me even after everything? I still can’t believe it. No one has treated me like this. Ever.
“You’re not mad?” I ask. It’s stupid, I know. After what he just said, after all the letters, it’s evident he isn’t. But I still have to hear him say it.
“No,” he breathes out. “I’m not, darlin’, okay?”
I wipe my tears, letting out a quiet and relieved laugh.
“I’ve waited weeks to hear that.”
I lean against the wall, the phone against my ear. “Hear what?”
“Your laugh.”
My stomach flips. Like ten times in a row all at once. “There’s so much I want to say, but I don’t even know where to start.”
“You don’t have to say everything,” he murmurs. “Just tell me how you’re doing. Like really doing.”
I pause. Not because I don’t have an answer, but because I’m not used to someone really caring. “I’m… better,” I say honestly. “Some days are still hard. But I’m learning how to get through them without running away.”
“That’s good,” he says, his voice tight. “That’s really good, Carmen.”
“I’ve been talking about everything. Mum. Felix. You. The things I never wanted to admit to myself.”
“Does it help?” he asks gently.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “It does.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then, “I’m proud of you.” And that—those four words—it’s like something clicks back into place inside me. A part of me that’s been floating, untethered, finally settling down.
I close my eyes and let the silence stretch again, breathing in the calm of this moment. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” I say. “When I get out of here. Or with school. Or… us.”
“Then we figure it out together,” he says. “One step at a time.”
The way he says “together” makes my throat tighten. Like we’re not broken. Like we’re just… paused. “Thank you.”
“For what, Blondie.” Blondie. I’ve missed that.
“For still being here,” I tell him. “For not giving up on me.”
“I can’t. I never will.”
My throat tightens again, but this time, I don’t cry. I just close my eyes and let the sound of his voice wrap around me like a blanket I didn’t know I needed. “I have to go soon,” I whisper. “They only let us have a few minutes.”
“I know,” he says softly. “It’s okay.”
“But I’ll call again. Next time they let me.”
“I’ll be here,” he promises. “Always.”
I smile, even though he can’t see it. “Bye, Aaron.”
“Bye, Carmen.” He pauses, then adds, “I’ll be waiting.”
And just like that, the line goes dead.
But the warmth in my chest stays. I hang up the phone with shaky fingers, stepping away from the wall and out into the hallway. My heart feels full and aching at the same time.
And for the first time in weeks, I feel a little more like myself. Like I might actually be okay. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon.
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