Chapter 2: What stress looks like.

Jemma's POV.

-

I can’t sit with the rest of that thought - or the picture. I check myself out faster than I should, my discharge and medical papers riding on the passenger seat as I merge into traffic, eyes raw, throat scraped dry.

At a red light, a small voice surfaces from somewhere in the back of my mind, and Anna’s face swims into view - bright, certain, delighted with herself.

“You promise, okay? You’re gonna gimme another little brother or sister soon.”

My breath catches. I can see her giggling, already running off to make her father swear the same promise. I shut my eyes, and the tears slide hot down my face.

HONK!

I flinch back into my body at the blare behind me and get my hands moving on the wheel again. I have to be strong.

I always have to be strong.

I was strong when the prom dress I saved for months to buy went to Lauren instead. Strong when she took credit for a party I planned start to finish. Strong every time she let herself into our home under the old excuse - best friends with Julian since high school.

Strong every time she smiled that smile and asked him, so sweetly, for the same gifts he’d given me.

Just once, I want to put it down. To be the one who gets to fall apart and have someone catch me.

By the time I’m pulling into the compound, breathing through the exercises that are supposed to calm me and ease the ache still sitting low in my body, I see a black sedan already parked in the shed. Voices, bright and easy, drifting from the porch. My stomach knots before I’ve even cut the engine.

“Oh- There she is! Jemma!”

I stiffen as a grinning blonde head pulls me into a hug, laughter wrapped all around her like perfume. On the steps behind her, Julian watches us, chuckling into his fist, holding something tender in his eyes I can’t quite place the target of.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t call ahead,” Lauren says, releasing me at last. “Julian was free, and my car’s been acting up - he offered to drive me to the mall. You should’ve come with us.”

You never think to call me at all.

I want to say it to her face, but I hold back the impulse. I glance past her to Julian instead, and when our eyes meet, I look away before I mean to, something in my chest pulling tight.

He steps up beside her, shrugging easily. “I happened to run into her on my way back from a meeting. She wondered if it’d be all right to spend some time with us.”

Before I can answer, Lauren’s hands close around my upper arms, cutting him off, her face arranging itself into something soft and shy - and utterly convincing.

“I’ll be married soon,” she says, eyes glistening right on cue. “Starting my own family, my own life. I just want to hold onto my sweet sister a little longer before all that happens.”

Her thumb brushes my arm once, something in the light movement unsettling me a little.

I manage a reluctant nod and glance past her toward Julian once again - a reflex, some old habit of looking for him whenever the ground under me feels uneven.

He's not looking at me at all.

His eyes are on Lauren, soft in a way I’ve spent years memorizing as mine. It lasts for a few seconds before he catches himself, glancing over at me instead as he eases into a smile.

Lauren watches us with her head tilted, that same soft smile still fixed in place.

“Aw,” she coos at us. “You two are just the sweetest.”

But her smile don’t meet her eyes.

“Goodness! What do you even have a phone for when you can’t pick up your calls?”

It takes a second too long to register that the scowling woman with a phone pressed to her ear is aimed at me - and then mine starts ringing inside my purse, right on cue. She lowers the phone and closes the distance between us, her face darkening with every step.

“Where have you been all morning, Jemma?” Ms. Ortis’s voice cracks like a whip. “Didn’t I tell you to cancel the hairstylist and contact the new one already? Do you have any idea how upset your mother is?”

I press my lips into a flat line and let the words land without flinching. Defending myself only ever makes it worse, and I don’t have the energy - not with the ache still sitting low in my belly from this morning, not with the exam room still fresh behind my eyes.

Though I know any chances of a shuteye has just gone down the drain with the presence of my mother-in-law.

“Mom, that’s enough.”

Julian’s voice cuts in, and I find the courage to look at her directly, watching the irritation on her face redirect anywhere but at him.

“You’ve been working just as hard helping Aunt Margaret with the preparations,” he tells her, voice smooth and calming. Then, to me, he passes a knowing smile - the one that used to be enough to undo any bad day I had.

It still is, apparently.

The hurt drains out of me like something switching off, and I hate - a little - how easily it happens. She looks like she wants one more word in, but Julian steers her away, and Lauren’s already climbing the stairs to the upper level, unbothered.

That’s right, I tell myself. Our family’s just under pressure. The wedding’s close. This is what stress looks like.

I tell myself I'll show Julian the medical reports tonight, once things quiet down.

I'm halfway up the stairs when Julian's voice drifts down from the landing above, low, and not meant for me.

“You didn't have to come all this way just to see me for five minutes.”