Let The Years Be

Chloe had not noticed when the call ended.

She took a moment to steady her emotions before saying, "My bestie's tying the knot. Why? Are you guys thinking of crashing it?"

Andrew and Stephen had been giving her the silent treatment lately. Once she was back in Kingston City, they would probably never cross paths again—not even as acquaintances.

There was no point in spilling the beans about her own wedding plans.

At her comment, Andrew and Stephen shot each other a puzzled look but did not dwell on it.

"Nah, you can go. I've got a mountain of work at the office," they dismissed.

Andrew, still seemingly miffed about Helen's accident earlier that day, grabbed some papers and headed to the study with a frosty air.

Stephen's face was set in a hard line as he added, "Helen got scraped up because of you. You should go say sorry to her. Otherwise, count me out for wedding festivities."

With that, he marched off to his room.

Chloe let out a bitter chuckle, keeping her thoughts to herself.

The next morning, Chloe rose early to start on breakfast.

Chloe had barely stepped out when she was hit by the sight of the living room, now a makeshift garden with vases of flowers everywhere, their scent hanging in the air like a silent alarm.

The pollen was a yellow haze, swirling in with the breeze, everywhere at once.

Her face drained of color as her breath hitched, faster and faster.

She was asthmatic, and pollen was her kryptonite!

Panic clawed at her chest as she struggled to breathe, her world tilting into shadows. Air seemed to vanish from her lungs, each breath a battle.

"Medicine..."

She stumbled toward the medicine box, her mind clinging to the memory of where her inhaler was. Her hands, weak and shaking, groped in vain, and in a clumsy moment, she sent several vases crashing from the cabinet.

Crash!

The sound of shattering glass echoed as flowers and water spilled into chaos.

At the noise, Andrew and Stephen came running, only to explode in anger at the sight of the mess, oblivious to Chloe's distress.

"What are you doing?!"

Chloe, medicine finally in hand, could barely process their words.

Stephen, face tight with worry, shoved her aside in his rush to save the fallen flowers.

"Ah!"

The push sent her reeling, her knee slamming into the cabinet's edge, skin tearing, pain flaring red and raw.

She clutched her inhaler, hands shaking violently, as she fought for air.

At last, the cap was off, the nozzle was found.

She clung to it like a lifeline, medicating herself as she hobbled to the safety of a corner. The medicine soothed her raw throat, a small mercy in the storm.

She had just dodged a bullet, fighting for her life, and there were Andrew and Stephen, oblivious, picking up the scattered flowers and broken vase pieces off the floor.