Chapter 28

GRACE’S POV

“Try me.” I said to Susan, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“I’m serious,” Susan said, one hand on her hip, the other holding the edge of her towel like she was prepared to go to war.. “There is nothing wrong with a free spirited individual. You should get on that sometimes.”

“There is something wrong with a free spirited individual half naked in my living room,” I shot back. “Go and put on some clothes.”

She sighed dramatically, like I had just crushed her dreams.

“You never let me live, never,” she muttered, turning back toward the hallway.

“I let you live plenty, you know, plenty,” I called after her. “I just don't let you live half-naked in my house all day.”

“You’re such a bore!” she shouted back, before slamming the door to my room.

I smiled despite myself, shaking my head as I washed my dishes. The normalcy of the moment felt strange and almost fragile.

Just a while ago, she had walked in here looking like her world was about to be destroyed in an apocalypse. Now she was arguing about towels and freedom like nothing had happened.

But I knew her. Susan didn’t process things by sitting in them. She processed by moving, talking, eating, joking, and distracting herself until she couldn't anymore.

And I accepted that it wasn't the worst way to cope. 

I wiped down the counter, letting my hands stay busy while my thoughts drifted again.

This timeline felt like a second chance, it was a second chance, but it didn’t come with instructions. There was no handbook telling me what to fix, what to leave alone, or what would spiral no matter what I did. I just felt totally clueless.

Susan meeting Daniel, that could’ve been prevented. I realised that now. If I had stayed persistent about not going out, she would never have met that douchebag. And she wouldn't have had to unintentionally help him cheat on his wife. 

But this meant one thing, that I couldn’t fix everything.

The thought sat heavily in my chest, almost like having a fat animal sitting on my chest. 

I dried my hands slowly, staring at the faint reflection of myself in the kitchen window.

So what could I fix? What should I not bother trying to fix?

Footsteps echoed from the hallway, announcing Susan's return. 

“I have returned,” She announced.

I turned and paused at the familiar sight.

She stood there in one of my oversized hoodies and a pair of shorts, her hair now loosely tied back, still damp. She looked comfortable. 

“You look less chaotic,” I commented slyly.

“Rude,” she replied, but she smiled. “This is my healing outfit.”

“Your healing outfit is my hoodie.” I pointed out to her. 

“Exactly. Sharing is caring.” She led the way to the living room.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips as I followed her. “Is that because I wore that hoody for an entire week when Bernard broke up with me? Because it sure did heal me.” 

She paused, sniffed the hoodie and shrugged. “That was over a year ago, this is clean now. Also, I will continue to laugh at his name. Bernard, really? He should've been a butler.” 

I shook my head, completely amused. “I don't blame you.” 

“Come on,” she said, flopping onto the couch. “Let’s pick something to watch.”

I followed her lead, grabbing the remote.

“What are we in the mood for?” I asked, poking my cheeks with my tongue.

“Nothing emotional,” she said immediately. “If anyone cries, I’m turning it off. Dead serious.”

“Noted.”

“No romance either,” she added, crossing off a lot of options.

I paused. “That actually removes a lot of options.”

“Good,” she said. “Love is cancelled today.”

I snorted. “Temporary cancellation of love?”

“It's that or I turn gay. You'd be my number one target,” she replied seriously.

I nodded slowly. “I don't even want to know why I'd be your first target.”

I scrolled through options, finally settling on something light, comedic, easy, something that didn’t demand too much thinking. It was perfect.

We settled in, the TV filling the room with noise.

For a while, it worked. Susan laughed at the right moments, made sarcastic comments, threw popcorn at the screen when characters made stupid decisions.

And I just watched her. There was a slight delay to her reactions sometimes. It was subtle, but I saw it.

About halfway through the second episode, she suddenly spoke.

“Do you think karma is real?”

The question came out of nowhere, but I immediately registered it.

I glanced at her. “That’s a random question.”

“Answer it, Grace.” She said.

I hesitated for a long second, thinking over my answer.

“I think that consequences are real,” I said slowly. “Whether you call it karma or not, they're very real.”

She nodded slightly, eyes still on the screen.

“Do you think I’ll get punished for this? For helping Daniel cheat on his wife” she asked.

My chest tightened. “No,” I said firmly. And I meant it.

She looked at me then, really looked. “Why not?” Like she was struggling to believe me.

“Because you didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn't your fault,” I replied.

“I was there though.” She pointed out.

“You were lied to. Those are two different things. You didn't willingly indulge a woman's husband. You thought you were going home with a single and lonely man,” I corrected.

She held my gaze for a moment longer, then looked away. “I still feel like I should apologize to her,” she murmured.

I frowned. “How would you even do that?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “That’s the problem.”

I leaned back slightly.

“That might make things worse,” I said slowly. “For her, you know.”

She didn't reply, silence settling in once again.

The guilt was eating her up, which made me imagine that it was the same in my previous timeline.