Chapter Twenty-Three — Two Months of Silence
(Inara's pov)
Two months. Sixty-two days of waking up in a world that felt wrong. Sixty-two mornings where I opened my eyes and remembered he wasn't there, and the ache never stopped.
I hadn't changed much on the outside. Blonde hair still fell to my shoulders, the silver quill necklace always clutched against my chest like a lifeline. But inside… inside, I had been hollowed out.
I went to school. That was it. The only place I went. Classes. Hallways. Cafeteria. Sometimes a glance at Naomi before she left for her own small adventures. Everything else — eating, talking, laughing, even thinking about writing — had become impossible.
My parents tried. Every day. Gentle nudges, soft words, hopeful glances. "Inara, honey, please… talk to us."
"I'm fine," I muttered, voice tight.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm fine."
But I wasn't. I wasn't fine. I was a ghost drifting through my own life, and every time they tried to reach me, I shut the door tighter.
Finally, after another week of silence, my parents exchanged a look that said they'd run out of options. And then, one rainy afternoon, there was a knock on the door, soft but deliberate.
"Inara…" my mom said, voice small, hopeful. "Elias's mom… she's here to see you."
My heart hit my throat. I froze, hands clutching the sheets of my bed. "No," I whispered. "I don't… I can't."
"You should," my dad said gently. "She… she cares. And maybe talking to her will help."
So I let her in.
She was smaller than I remembered from pictures, softer, more fragile somehow, carrying grief like a cloak around her shoulders. Her eyes were red at the corners, but when she looked at me, there was no blame. Only… understanding.
"Inara," she said softly, sitting on the edge of my bed. "I've missed him so much… and I know you have too."
I stayed silent, staring at my hands, the necklace gleaming faintly in the lamplight.
"I… I don't blame you," she said gently, her voice cracking. "Not for a second. I know you loved him, and that's all that mattered. He loved you. We all loved him, but…" She paused, swallowing. "You two… you made him so happy. So alive."
Tears stung my eyes. I blinked them back. "But… it's my fault," I whispered, voice barely audible. "I should have stopped him. I should have… said something. I… I couldn't protect him."
She shook her head slowly, reaching out to take my hand. "No. No, Inara. You couldn't. You didn't — no one could have. Not me, not his father, not even Elias himself. He lived fully, happily… because of you. Because of your love. You were his world."
I let a sob escape, hot and heavy, and buried my face in my hands. Two months of silence, of trying to breathe through the constant ache, and now it all poured out.
"I… I don't eat. I barely talk. I don't… live," I confessed, voice breaking. "I only… go to school. And then I come home. And it's empty. And I'm empty. And I… I can't stop thinking about him."
She squeezed my hand, gently but firmly. "It's okay to be empty right now. It's okay to be broken. I don't expect you to be anything else. But…" Her thumb brushed over the necklace I clutched. "Elias… he wouldn't want you to vanish in your grief. He would want you to remember him, yes, but also to live. To write, to laugh, to love yourself. He would want that. You have his heart inside you, Inara. You carry it everywhere you go."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her that I couldn't, that I didn't know how. But all I could do was shake slightly, tears dripping onto the bedsheet, and press the necklace to my lips.
She leaned closer. "You're not alone. And I'm not here to blame you, never that. I'm here because I know you loved him. And he loved you. That love… it doesn't end. Not really."
For the first time in weeks, maybe months, I felt a crack in the wall around me. A tiny, fragile crack where light could seep in. I nodded slowly, swallowing hard. "I… I'll try," I whispered, voice raw.
"Try," she repeated gently. "And that's enough for now. That's more than enough."
We sat in silence, listening to the rain hammer against the window, letting the grief settle between us in shared understanding. I pressed the necklace to my chest again, remembering him — his laugh, his hand in mine, the warmth of his presence.
And for the first time in months, I didn't feel completely alone.
End of Chapter Twenty-Three