Chapter Text
TIME JUMP
Late September settles in gently.
The mornings in California are a little cooler now.
The light comes in softer through the windows.
Their apartment feels lived in again, not the in-between chaos of packing and leaving, but real life. Shoes by the door. Dishes in the sink. Conrad’s notes spread across the table. Belly’s tote bag always somehow in the way.
They’ve fallen into something steady.
Married life doesn’t feel overwhelming or new anymore.
It just feels… right.
⸻
Jeremiah’s message comes on a random afternoon.
Belly is curled up on the couch, scrolling half-absently, when her phone buzzes.
She opens it.
“Cousins. My birthday. You’re all coming. Not optional.”
She smiles immediately.
There’s no hesitation, no thinking it through.
“Sounds like we’re going to Cousins,” she says out loud.
Conrad is at the counter, flipping through something on his laptop. He doesn’t even look up.
“Yeah,” he says, like it was already decided.
She glances at him, amused.
“You didn’t even ask when.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
She sits up a little.
“Three days,” she says. “Quick trip.”
Now he looks at her.
“Perfect.”
And just like that, they’re going back.
⸻
Packing this time feels completely different.
Just… routine.
Belly stands in front of the closet, pulling things out without overthinking.
A couple dresses. A sweater. Jeans.
She tosses them onto the bed in loose piles.
“Do I need heels?” she asks, holding up a pair.
Conrad, sitting on the edge of the bed folding a t-shirt, doesn’t even look up.
“For Jeremiah’s birthday?”
She pauses.
“…right.”
The heels get tossed back into the closet.
“Proud of you,” he says.
She narrows her eyes at him.
“Don’t.”
He smiles.
⸻
They pack side by side, bumping into each other occasionally, stealing small kisses in between folding clothes, arguing lightly over what actually counts as “packing efficiently.”
At one point, Belly zips her suitcase halfway, then reopens it.
“I feel like I’m forgetting something.”
“You always feel like that,” Conrad says.
“And I’m usually right.”
He looks at her.
“You’re not.”
She stares at him.
“We’ll see.”
⸻
The flight is quiet.
Not awkward.
Just calm.
Belly spends most of it half-asleep, her head resting against his shoulder, one hand loosely curled into the fabric of his hoodie like she always does.
Conrad doesn’t move much.
He reads for a while, then stops, letting his head rest lightly against hers.
Every now and then he glances down at her, just checking.
It’s small.
Instinctive.
⸻
By the time they land, the light has shifted.
That late afternoon glow.
The kind that feels familiar in a way you can’t explain.
They pick up their bags, move through the airport without rushing, and soon they’re in the car, heading toward Cousins.
Conrad drives.
One hand on the wheel.
The other resting near the center console, close enough that he can reach her without thinking.
At first, everything feels normal.
The road.
The trees.
The slow reappearance of places they both recognize.
Belly leans back in her seat, looking out the window.
But then—
something shifts.
It’s subtle.
So subtle that if it were anyone else, he might not notice.
But it’s her.
And he always notices her.
She’s quieter than usual.
Not the calm, comfortable quiet she slips into sometimes—
a different kind.
Her shoulders are a little tense.
Her breathing slightly off.
She’s not really looking at anything outside anymore.
Just… staring.
Conrad glances at her once.
Then again.
He waits a minute, giving her space.
But it doesn’t pass.
If anything, it becomes more obvious.
Her hand moves to her stomach briefly, then drops.
She shifts in her seat.
Then again.
He frowns slightly.
“Hey,” he says.
She blinks, like she’s coming back from somewhere.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?”
There’s a tiny pause.
“Yeah,” she says.
Too quick.
Too automatic.
He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but his attention is fully on her now.
“Belly.”
She exhales slowly, leaning her head back against the seat.
“I just feel… off.”
His grip on the wheel tightens just slightly.
“What kind of off?”
She hesitates this time.
“A little dizzy,” she admits. “And kind of nauseous.”
That’s enough for him.
He glances at her again, more focused now.
“Did you take something before the flight?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I took Dramamine.”
She swallows, pressing her lips together.
“But it just feels… different.”
There’s something in the way she says it that makes his chest tighten.
He slows the car slightly without even thinking about it.
“You want me to pull over?” he asks.
She shakes her head quickly.
“No, it’s fine. I’m okay.”
He doesn’t fully believe that.
She shifts again, like she can’t find a comfortable position.
Her eyes close briefly.
“Hey,” he says, softer now.
She hums faintly.
“Look at me for a second.”
She turns her head toward him slowly.
Her face looks a little pale.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again.
She nods, but it’s not as convincing this time.
“I think I just need air,” she says. “Maybe I’m still a little motion sick or something.”
He reaches over, taking her hand.
Her fingers are cooler than usual.
He rubs his thumb gently over her knuckles, grounding, steady.
“Tell me if it gets worse,” he says.
“I will,” she answers quietly.
He keeps holding her hand.
Doesn’t let go.
The road starts to shift into something more familiar now.
The turn.
The trees.
The feeling of getting closer.
Cousins.
Belly leans her head against the window, eyes half-closed.
Her breathing steadies a little, but not completely.
Conrad glances at her again.
Then back at the road.
Then at her again.
More frequently now.
Watching.
Tracking.
Ready.
“Hey,” he says softly after a minute.
She hums.
“We’re almost there.”
She nods faintly.
“Okay.”
He squeezes her hand once more.
And keeps driving, more focused now, more aware,
the quiet excitement of arriving mixing with something else, a low, steady concern that he can’t quite shake.
——-
The car barely comes to a full stop before Belly reaches for the door.
“Hey—slow,” Conrad says, already unbuckling his seatbelt.
“I’m fine,” she insists, but there’s something off in her voice again, tighter, thinner.
She steps out, the coastal air hitting her immediately.
Salt.
Warmth.
Familiar.
For a second, she just stands there, breathing it in like she always does when they arrive at Cousins.
But this time, something doesn’t settle.
It shifts.
Her stomach turns, sudden and sharp.
Not the rolling, dizzy feeling from the car.
Something else.
Deeper.
She presses her lips together, one hand instinctively going to her stomach.
That’s weird.
She frowns slightly.
“What?” Conrad asks, coming around the car, already watching her.
She shakes her head quickly.
“Nothing. I just—”
She pauses.
“I feel… queasy.”
He studies her face.
“You said it was the car.”
“I thought it was,” she says, quieter now. “But this feels different.”
There’s a beat.
The house is right there.
Voices drifting from the backyard.
Jeremiah laughing loudly about something.
Everything so normal it almost feels strange against how she feels.
“I’m okay,” she adds quickly. “I just need a second.”
He doesn’t move yet.
Doesn’t push.
Just stays close.
“Okay,” he says. “I’m right here.”
She nods.
Takes a breath.
Then another.
The feeling doesn’t go away completely.
But it eases just enough.
“Let’s go,” she says.
⸻
The moment they step around the house, everything comes to life.
“Hey!”
Jeremiah is at the grill, turning around immediately, a huge grin on his face.
“You made it!”
He walks over quickly, pulling Conrad into a hug first, then Belly.
“Hi,” she says, smiling, and it’s real, just slightly softer than usual.
“Birthday boy,” she adds.
“Obviously,” he says.
People start gathering around.
Taylor, Steven, a few others—
voices overlapping, greetings, hugs, laughter.
Belly moves through it naturally, hugging people, smiling, responding—
but Conrad notices.
She’s a second slower.
A little quieter.
Her smile fades quicker when she’s not actively talking.
He keeps glancing at her between conversations.
⸻
They grab their bags from the car a few minutes later.
“I’ve got it,” Conrad says, taking both without argument.
“I can carry one,” she protests lightly.
“You can walk,” he replies.
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t push it.
They head upstairs together, the familiar creak of the steps grounding in a way that feels almost nostalgic.
Inside the room, she exhales, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Better?” he asks immediately.
She nods.
“Yeah… I think so.”
He sets the bags down but doesn’t move away yet.
“You sure?”
She looks up at him.
“I’m okay,” she says. “I think I just needed to get off the road.”
He studies her for another second.
Then nods.
“Alright.”
He brushes his hand lightly over her arm, brief, reassuring.
“Tell me if anything changes.”
“I will.”
⸻
By the time they go back outside, the sun is lower, the backyard glowing in that warm Cousins light.
Jeremiah is fully in host mode now, flipping burgers, calling out orders like it’s a performance.
“Food’s ready!” he announces.
Everyone gathers around, grabbing plates, laughing, settling into chairs.
Belly sits beside Conrad, tucking her legs slightly under her.
At first, it’s fine.
She even starts to relax a little.
But then—
the smell hits her.
Grilled meat.
Sauces.
Something heavier in the air.
Her stomach flips instantly.
Sharp.
Unavoidable.
She freezes for a second.
Her hand tightens slightly around the edge of her plate.
Conrad notices immediately.
He leans closer.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “You okay?”
She shakes her head once, quick.
“I—”
She swallows hard.
“I’m not feeling well.”
And then it hits.
All at once.
She stands up so suddenly her chair scrapes loudly against the ground.
“I think I’m gonna —”
She doesn’t even finish the sentence.
She’s already moving.
Fast.
Inside.
Conrad is up immediately.
“Belly—”
He follows without hesitation.
Behind them, everything stops.
The laughter.
The conversation.
Everyone watches.
“What happened?” Jeremiah asks, confused, stepping forward.
“She wasn’t feeling great earlier,” Conrad throws over his shoulder, already halfway inside.
⸻
Belly barely makes it to the bathroom.
She drops to her knees in front of the toilet, gripping the edge just as it hits.
Her body folds forward, the nausea taking over completely.
A second later—
Conrad is there.
He kneels beside her instantly, one hand already pulling her hair back, the other moving to her back.
“It’s okay,” he says softly, steady, calm. “I’ve got you.”
She doesn’t respond.
She can’t.
He rubs slow circles along her back, grounding, consistent.
“It’s okay,” he repeats.
“Just breathe.”
Her shoulders shake slightly.
He keeps his hand firm, supportive.
Just there.
Completely.
After a moment, he reaches for a nearby towel, keeping one hand in her hair, holding it back gently.
“I’m here,” he murmurs again.
Outside, the house has gone quieter.
Concern settling in.
Laurel stands just outside the back door, her expression tight, watching toward the hallway but not going in yet.
“What’s going on?” someone asks quietly.
“She got sick,” Jeremiah says, more serious now.
Laurel presses her lips together, worry clear in her eyes.
But she stays where she is.
Gives them space.
⸻
Inside, Conrad doesn’t move.
Not even for a second.
His hand keeps moving along her back.
Slow.
Steady.
Reassuring.
“Hey,” he says gently when it eases a little. “You’re okay.”
She leans back slightly, breathing uneven.
He adjusts immediately, helping her sit up just enough, still holding her hair away from her face.
“Yeah,” she manages, weakly.
He looks at her closely.
Concern written all over his face now.
“What’s going on?” he asks softly.
She shakes her head slightly.
“I don’t know.”
And that, that’s what worries him the most.
Because she doesn’t know.
And neither does he.
So he stays right there beside her,
one hand still on her back,
the other holding her hair,
not letting go for a second.
———
It takes a few minutes before Belly feels steady enough to stand.
Conrad helps her up slowly, one hand still at her back, the other hovering near her arm like he’s ready to catch her if she wobbles even a little.
“Easy,” he says quietly.
“I’m okay,” she murmurs, but her voice is softer now, worn out.
He doesn’t argue.
Just stays close.
Always close.
⸻
When they step back outside, the shift in the air is immediate.
Everyone looks up.
Conversation quiets.
Concern settles over the space in a way that’s almost tangible.
Laurel is already standing, eyes fixed on Belly the second she appears.
“Are you okay?” she asks, stepping forward.
Belly nods quickly, offering a small, apologetic smile.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry—” she brushes a piece of hair behind her ear, still a little flushed. “I just wasn’t feeling great earlier.”
Laurel studies her.
Not just the words.
Her face.
The way she’s holding herself.
The slight delay before she answers.
“Earlier?” Laurel repeats gently.
Belly nods.
“Yeah, I think it just… caught up to me.”
A pause.
“I’m gonna shower and lay down for a bit,” she adds. “I think I just need to rest.”
Laurel doesn’t respond right away.
She just looks at her.
Really looks at her.
There’s something there—
a flicker of recognition,
a quiet instinct,
a thought forming that she doesn’t say out loud.
Not yet.
Instead, she softens slightly.
“Okay,” she says. “Go rest.”
Belly nods, relieved.
“I will.”
⸻
Conrad doesn’t even hesitate.
“I’ll go with her,” he says, already stepping closer.
Laurel glances at him, then back at Belly.
A small nod.
“Good.”
⸻
They head inside together.
The house feels quieter now compared to the backyard, cooler, dimmer, the sound of voices fading behind them.
Belly moves slower this time.
More careful.
Conrad stays right beside her, one hand resting lightly at her lower back, guiding without making it obvious.
When they reach the stairs, he glances at her.
“You good?”
She nods.
“Yeah.”
Still, he keeps a hand near her as they go up.
Just in case.
⸻
Inside the bedroom, the moment the door closes, Belly exhales.
A deeper breath this time.
Like she’s been holding it together just long enough to get through being outside.
She sits down on the edge of the bed again, shoulders dropping.
Conrad sets a glass of water on the nightstand, he must’ve grabbed it on the way up without her noticing.
“Here,” he says, handing it to her.
She takes it, sipping slowly.
“Thanks.”
He watches her carefully.
“How are you feeling now?”
She shrugs slightly.
“Tired.”
A beat.
“And still a little weird.”
He nods.
“Okay.”
He doesn’t push.
Doesn’t try to solve it immediately.
Just… stays.
“You said you wanted to shower?” he asks.
She nods.
“Yeah. I think it’ll help.”
He stands, walking toward the bathroom door, turning the water on for her without even asking.
She watches him for a second.
“You don’t have to do all that,” she says softly.
He glances back at her.
“Of course I do.”
⸻
A few minutes later, she disappears into the bathroom, the sound of the shower filling the room.
Conrad stays.
Sitting on the edge of the bed.
Just listening.
Making sure she’s okay.
⸻
When she comes back out, wrapped in something soft, hair damp, she looks a little better.
Not perfect.
But lighter.
He notices immediately.
“Better?” he asks.
She nods.
“Yeah… I think so.”
She climbs into bed without overthinking it, pulling the covers up, curling slightly onto her side.
Conrad sits beside her for a second, brushing a damp strand of hair away from her face.
“Try to sleep,” he says quietly.
She looks up at him.
“You’re staying?”
He almost smiles.
“Yeah.”
She relaxes immediately at that, eyes already starting to close.
“Okay.”
⸻
He lies down beside her, not too close at first, just enough.
But after a second, she shifts toward him anyway, instinctively, her hand resting lightly against his chest.
He places his hand over hers.
Steady.
Grounding.
Protective.
And as her breathing starts to even out, her body finally relaxing—
his eyes stay open a little longer.
Still watching.
Still thinking.
Still trying to figure out what, exactly, is going on.
Downstairs, the noise slowly returns.
Laughter.
Music.
Life continuing.
But up here—
everything narrows down to just this:
her,
resting beside him,
——-
Time passes slowly in that room.
The kind of slow that only happens when someone is resting and the world outside keeps moving anyway.
The light shifts through the curtains, turning warmer, softer. The distant sound of laughter drifts up from downstairs, Jeremiah’s voice, Taylor’s, the clink of glasses, life continuing like normal.
But up here, everything is quieter.
Still.
⸻
She sleeps longer than she meant to.
The kind of sleep that isn’t deep or peaceful, just heavy. Like her body needed to shut everything out for a while.
When she finally stirs, the room is quieter.
Dimmer.
The light outside has shifted into early evening, soft and golden through the curtains.
For a second, she just lies there, blinking slowly, trying to orient herself.
Then she feels it—
not the sharp nausea from before,
just a faint, lingering uneasiness.
Duller now.
Manageable.
She exhales, pushing herself up carefully.
Beside her, Conrad is still there.
Not asleep.
Just lying back against the headboard, one arm behind his head, the other resting loosely on the bed, like he’s been there the whole time.
Which he has.
The moment she moves, he looks at her.
“Hey.”
Her voice is still a little rough.
“Hey.”
He shifts forward slightly.
“How are you feeling?”
She pauses, checking in with herself.
“Better,” she says. “I think.”
Not perfect.
But better.
He studies her face for a second, like he’s trying to confirm it himself.
“Yeah?”
She nods, a small smile forming.
“Yeah. I don’t feel like I’m gonna throw up anymore, so that’s a win.”
That gets a small breath of a laugh out of him.
“Big win.”
She leans back against the headboard beside him, exhaling.
“I think it was just… the travel,” she says after a moment. “Or something I ate on the plane.”
He nods slowly.
“Yeah. Could be.”
She glances at him.
“You were right about the Dramamine thing though,” she adds. “It didn’t feel like that.”
He shrugs slightly.
“Still could’ve been a mix of everything.”
She nods.
“Yeah.”
A pause.
Neither of them pushes it further.
Not yet.
Because now that the worst of it has passed, it’s easier to explain it away.
Travel.
Food.
A long day.
All reasonable.
All normal.
⸻
She swings her legs off the bed carefully this time.
Testing.
No dizziness.
No sudden wave.
“Okay,” she says quietly. “That’s better.”
Conrad watches her like he’s still not fully convinced.
“You sure you’re good to be up?”
She looks back at him.
“I’m not fragile,” she says, a hint of teasing returning.
He raises an eyebrow.
“You just threw up thirty minutes ago.”
“Okay, but I’m recovering.”
He huffs a small laugh.
“Alright.”
⸻
She stands, smoothing out her clothes, running her fingers through her hair.
There’s a softness to her again now.
More like herself.
“Should we go back down?” she asks.
He nods.
“Only if you’re actually feeling okay.”
“I am.”
A beat.
“I don’t want to miss Jeremiah’s birthday over bad airplane food.”
That convinces him enough.
“Fair.”
⸻
They head downstairs together.
Slower than before.
But easier.
The noise from the backyard grows louder again, music, laughter, the clink of glasses.
Everything exactly as they left it.
When they step back outside, a few heads turn again.
“Hey!” Jeremiah calls. “She lives!”
Belly laughs lightly.
“I’m alive.”
“You good?” he asks, more serious underneath the joke.
“Yeah,” she says. “I think it was just something from the plane or the travel.”
He nods.
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
Taylor walks over immediately, eyeing her.
“You scared me,” she says.
“I’m fine,” Belly reassures her.
And this time—
it feels more believable.
⸻
Conrad stays close, but not hovering now.
Just… near.
Watching, but relaxed enough to let himself settle again.
They fall back into the group easily.
Sitting. Talking. Laughing.
Eating lightly this time, Belly sticking to something simple, just in case.
And as the evening goes on, it becomes easier and easier to believe that it was nothing.
Just travel.
Just food.
Just one of those random things.
By the time the sun fully sets and the string lights glow overhead, the moment has almost faded into the background.
Something to joke about later.
Something small.
Something normal.
And for now—
that’s exactly what they both let it be.
———
Morning comes softer in Cousins.
The kind of morning where the light filters in slowly, where you can hear the ocean before you even open your eyes.
Belly wakes up before Conrad.
She blinks up at the ceiling for a moment, still half wrapped in sleep.
Then she shifts slightly and immediately feels it.
Not nausea.
Not sharp or urgent like yesterday.
Just… heavy.
Her body feels slower than usual, like everything is taking a second longer to catch up.
She exhales quietly, rolling onto her back.
Okay.
She stares at the ceiling for a second, thinking.
That makes sense.
Yesterday was a lot.
Travel. The car. Getting sick.
Of course she’d feel off.
She presses her lips together, nodding slightly to herself like she’s already solved it.
“Yeah,” she murmurs under her breath. “That tracks.”
⸻
Beside her, Conrad stirs.
He shifts slightly, then opens his eyes, immediately turning his head toward her like he always does.
“Hey,” he says, voice still rough with sleep.
“Hey.”
He studies her for a second.
“How are you feeling?”
She gives a small shrug.
“Better.”
A beat.
“Just… tired.”
He pushes himself up slightly, resting on one elbow.
“Tired how?”
She smiles faintly.
“Like I got sick yesterday and my body is still catching up.”
He nods slowly.
“Yeah.”
That makes sense to him too.
She reaches over, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm.
“I think it was just a mix of everything,” she adds. “Travel, food, whatever.”
He watches her, still a little more attentive than usual, but not alarmed anymore.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Probably.”
⸻
They stay in bed a little longer.
No rush.
The house is quiet downstairs, everyone else still asleep or just waking up.
Belly shifts closer to him, resting her head lightly against his shoulder.
For a moment, everything feels normal again.
Comfortable.
Easy.
But there’s still that faint heaviness in her body.
Like she could fall back asleep if she let herself.
She closes her eyes for a second.
“Okay,” she murmurs.
“What?”
“I could sleep for like… five more hours.”
He huffs a quiet laugh.
“Then sleep.”
She smiles without opening her eyes.
“I won’t. I’ll feel worse if I do.”
He brushes his hand lightly over her arm.
“Probably.”
⸻
Eventually, she pushes herself up.
Slow.
Careful.
Not because she feels like she’s going to get sick again—
just because she feels… low energy.
Like her body isn’t fully cooperating yet.
She stretches slightly, wincing just a little at how tired she still feels.
“Yeah,” she says. “Definitely still recovering.”
Conrad watches her.
“You sure you’re okay to be up?”
She nods.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
And she means it.
She doesn’t feel sick anymore.
Just… off.
⸻
Downstairs, the house slowly comes to life.
Coffee brewing.
Voices picking up.
Jeremiah already louder than necessary.
Belly pours herself a glass of juice instead of coffee, not really thinking about it.
She just… doesn’t feel like coffee.
“Not going for caffeine?” Conrad asks casually.
She shrugs.
“I don’t know. Just not in the mood.”
He nods.
Doesn’t question it.
⸻
They sit outside again, the morning sun softer, the air cooler than the day before.
Belly leans back in her chair, letting the warmth hit her face.
She’s quieter than usual.
Not in a bad way.
Just… lower energy.
Taylor notices, nudging her lightly.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” Belly says. “Just tired.”
“Hangover?” Jeremiah calls from across the table.
“I wish,” she shoots back. “That would at least be fun.”
They laugh.
It feels normal again.
⸻
And that’s how they leave it.
Just tired. Just recovering.
Just one of those things your body does after you get sick.
Nothing deeper.
Nothing worth worrying about.
Not yet.
So Belly leans into the sun, eyes half-closed
and Conrad sits beside her, close enough to notice everything,
but not yet seeing the full picture.