Chapter 32

Chapter 32

(Refer to Chapter 8-9)

"Wake up, you stupid!" Tabitha's voice echoed through Jonathan's room that jolted him awake. He gasped, sitting up, his breath ragged as if he'd just resurfaced from a deep dive. His chest heaved as his heart pounded, and for a moment, he struggled to pull himself out of the overwhelming fog clouding his mind.

His vision was still blurry, and his head throbbed with a splitting ache, like the aftermath of a terrible hangover. Slowly, his surroundings started to come into focus, and the realization hit him—he was back. Back in his room, back in his own reality. Jonathan blinked, staring down at his hands, flexing his fingers open and closed. Was this real? The vivid memories of everything that had just happened, all the alternate timelines, all the pain, it lingered in his mind. It was so real, yet it couldn't have been.

With a heavy sigh, Jonathan let his hands fall and stood up from his bed, his body feeling like it had aged years in the course of a night. He moved toward the door sluggishly, as if the energy had been drained from him completely. His head was still swimming with the vivid images—Laura, her new life, the pain of her love lost—and it was all too much.

He turned the doorknob and pulled the door open, only to be met by an annoyed-looking Tabitha with her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. She had been waiting for their usual morning banter, but the moment her eyes landed on him, her expression shifted from irritation to shock.

"B-Bro... what the hell happened to you?" she asked, her voice faltering in surprise.

Jonathan stood in the doorway, blinking in confusion. "H-huh?" His voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

Tabitha's eyes widened as she pointed at his face. "You're... crying," she said, her voice softening in disbelief.

Jonathan reached up to his face, his fingers brushing over his wet cheeks. He hadn't even realized it until that moment. Tears had been streaming down his face, silent and unstoppable. His face was hot and swollen from the constant flow of tears, and his chest felt tight, weighed down by sorrow.

He let out a shaky breath, wiping his eyes, but the tears kept coming. "I didn't..." he started, but his voice trailed off. He didn't know how to explain it. How could he tell Tabitha that he'd just lived through the deepest heartache of his life, experiencing the kind of pain he had always unknowingly inflicted on someone else?

Tabitha took a step closer, her annoyance now replaced with concern. "Jonathan... what's going on?" she asked, her voice gentle. "Did something happen?"

Jonathan swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. He wanted to brush it off, say something sarcastic like he normally would, but the burden of everything he'd experienced crushed him. He couldn't escape it. The pain, the memories, the realization of how deeply he had hurt Laura and how much he did not want to lose her—it was all too much.

"Tabitha..." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I messed up. I messed up so bad."

Tabitha raised an eyebrow and, with her usual sarcasm, quipped, "Yeah, you did. Big time. Now stop crying, you're ugly. Go wash your face—Laura's waiting for you downstairs."

At the mention of Laura's name, Jonathan froze. His breath hitched, and his heart skipped a beat. Laura? Here? Almost immediately, hope surged through him. His face lit up with both of shock and disbelief.

Is it possible...? His mind raced. Had time turned back? Was this another chance?

Without a second thought, Jonathan darted past Tabitha, barely registering her teasing remarks as his heart hammered in his chest. It felt like his body was moving on instinct, his feet flying down the stairs with urgency. He didn't know why, but he had to see her—had to make sure she was really there.

When he reached the bottom and stepped into the living room, the sight of Laura waiting patiently made him stop in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, the world around him seemed to fade away.

There she was, sitting quietly on the couch, completely unaware of his gaze. But to Jonathan, it felt like he was seeing her for the very first time.

Her long, dark hair cascaded down in soft waves, spilling over her shoulders and down to her waist, catching the sunlight that streamed through the windows. It shimmered with an almost golden glow in the light, framing her face in a way that made her look like something out of a dream. And her eyes—those eyes that he'd never truly noticed until now—gleamed with life, sparkling with warmth as they reflected the daylight. They were so full of depth, the kind of eyes that seemed to tell a thousand stories in silence.

'...Beautiful...' he thought, unable to tear his gaze away.

He stood there, motionless as his heart pounded not from the rush of running but from the sudden realization of just how ethereal she looked. He'd never really seen her like this before, not with this kind of clarity. Everything about her, every little detail, seemed to strike him all at once.

Her delicate fingers fiddled with the hem of her blouse. It was a familiar habit of hers when she was feeling anxious or uncomfortable. He watched the subtle way she bit at her lower lip, a small gesture that suddenly seemed endearing, something he had overlooked too many times.

It wasn't just that she was beautiful in the physical sense—no, it was something far deeper. There was a quiet grace about her, a calmness that contrasted with the storm brewing inside him. He could see the way she waited patiently, her posture showing just a hint of uncertainty and the way she shifted slightly on the couch.

For the first time, Jonathan truly noticed her. All those little details, the moments he'd taken for granted, now seemed to flood his senses. It hit him like a tidal wave, as regret and longing tangled in his chest. How had he never seen this before? How had he never realized?

He wanted to speak, to say something, anything—but he couldn't. All he could do was stand there, taking in the sight of her, wondering how long it had taken him to recognize the beauty that had always been right in front of him.

"What are you doing?" Tabitha's voice suddenly cut through his daze, followed by a sharp slap on his back. Jonathan flinched, startled, his trance shattered in an instant as his sister's teasing words hit him. "You're creepy," she added, rolling her eyes before turning on her heel and walking away.

"You—!" Jonathan started, attempting to refute, but his words faltered as soon as he heard Laura's voice.

"Jonathan?"

It was gentle, soft, the way she said his name. The sound of it tugged at something deep inside him, making his heart stutter. Laura had stood up from the couch, her movements graceful, almost as if she were gliding. She was looking at him now with those same eyes he had been admiring moments ago that are now meeting his with a hint of curiosity.

Jonathan swallowed hard as his pulse quickened again, but this time it wasn't from nerves or embarrassment. It was something else entirely.

Ah. Adoration.

Her presence filled the room in a way he hadn't noticed before. Just hearing her voice felt like a balm on the storm of emotions swirling inside him. She was right there, close enough to reach out to, yet for some reason, the words he wanted to say remained trapped in his throat.

Laura tilted her head slightly while concern flickered in her eyes as she took a step closer. "Are you alright?" she asked in a soft tone, as if she could sense something was off with him.

Jonathan opened his mouth, but still nothing came out. He wanted to tell her so many things—apologize for all the moments he hadn't paid attention, for all the times he'd hurt her without realizing it, for never seeing her the way he was seeing her now.

This will be the chance and he needed to tell her before everything is too late.

Laura gave him a small, patient smile, the kind that made his chest tighten. "Good," she said, her voice light. "You had me worried there for a second."

And just like that, the walls around his heart crumbled further. How could she still care so much? How could she stand there, looking at him with those kind eyes, when he had been so blind to her for so long?