Almost Love, Then Everything - Chapter 27: Chapter 27
You are reading Almost Love, Then Everything, Chapter 27: Chapter 27. Read more chapters of Almost Love, Then Everything.
("She always held everyone else together.
But that night, when her hands started shaking,
I realized—
sometimes even the strongest people
need someone to hold them still.")
Leah wasn’t herself.
It started slowly—text replies delayed, her laugh quieter, her energy dimmer. She canceled two movie nights in a row and stopped walking Jade home after class. It wasn’t mean. It wasn’t distant.
It was fading.
At first, Jade tried not to take it personally. Everyone has off weeks. Leah had always been there for her—maybe she just needed space.
But by the third day, Jade’s gut told her the truth.
Leah was unraveling.
And no one was seeing it.
She showed up uninvited.
Leah’s apartment door creaked open after the second knock. Leah stood there, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, eyes puffy, like she hadn’t slept. Not shocked to see Jade. Just… tired.
“Hey,” Leah said, voice barely a breath.
“Hey,” Jade whispered back. “Can I come in?”
A beat.
Then Leah stepped aside.
The apartment was dim.
Lights off. Dishes in the sink. One blanket tossed carelessly over the back of the couch.
Leah sat on the floor instead of the couch. Just folded down onto the rug with her back against the wall like she didn’t have the energy to pretend to be fine somewhere else.
Jade followed without asking.
She sat beside her.
No questions. No speeches.
Just quiet.
Just presence.
It was a long time before Leah spoke.
And when she did, it cracked something open.
“I think I’ve been pretending for so long that I forgot how to… not pretend.”
Jade turned her head slowly.
Leah stared straight ahead, voice soft but shaking. “Everyone thinks I’m fine. Always. Because I look fine. Because I’m calm. I help people. I take care of everything. And I don’t mind—most of the time.”
She swallowed.
“But sometimes I wish someone would notice when I’m not okay without me having to fall apart in front of them first.”
Jade didn’t interrupt. Didn’t rush to fix it.
Instead, she reached over.
Took Leah’s hand in hers.
Held it tightly.
“You don’t have to fall apart alone,” she said.
The silence after that was heavier than words.
But it wasn’t empty.
It was full of something real. Something earned.
For once, Leah let her head fall onto Jade’s shoulder.
And Jade—shaky, brave, steady—stayed right there.
Not as someone who needed rescuing.
But as someone finally becoming someone else’s anchor.
Some nights don’t need to end in big confessions.
Sometimes, they just need
two people on the floor,
holding hands in the dark,
learning how to be each other’s light.
But that night, when her hands started shaking,
I realized—
sometimes even the strongest people
need someone to hold them still.")
Leah wasn’t herself.
It started slowly—text replies delayed, her laugh quieter, her energy dimmer. She canceled two movie nights in a row and stopped walking Jade home after class. It wasn’t mean. It wasn’t distant.
It was fading.
At first, Jade tried not to take it personally. Everyone has off weeks. Leah had always been there for her—maybe she just needed space.
But by the third day, Jade’s gut told her the truth.
Leah was unraveling.
And no one was seeing it.
She showed up uninvited.
Leah’s apartment door creaked open after the second knock. Leah stood there, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, eyes puffy, like she hadn’t slept. Not shocked to see Jade. Just… tired.
“Hey,” Leah said, voice barely a breath.
“Hey,” Jade whispered back. “Can I come in?”
A beat.
Then Leah stepped aside.
The apartment was dim.
Lights off. Dishes in the sink. One blanket tossed carelessly over the back of the couch.
Leah sat on the floor instead of the couch. Just folded down onto the rug with her back against the wall like she didn’t have the energy to pretend to be fine somewhere else.
Jade followed without asking.
She sat beside her.
No questions. No speeches.
Just quiet.
Just presence.
It was a long time before Leah spoke.
And when she did, it cracked something open.
“I think I’ve been pretending for so long that I forgot how to… not pretend.”
Jade turned her head slowly.
Leah stared straight ahead, voice soft but shaking. “Everyone thinks I’m fine. Always. Because I look fine. Because I’m calm. I help people. I take care of everything. And I don’t mind—most of the time.”
She swallowed.
“But sometimes I wish someone would notice when I’m not okay without me having to fall apart in front of them first.”
Jade didn’t interrupt. Didn’t rush to fix it.
Instead, she reached over.
Took Leah’s hand in hers.
Held it tightly.
“You don’t have to fall apart alone,” she said.
The silence after that was heavier than words.
But it wasn’t empty.
It was full of something real. Something earned.
For once, Leah let her head fall onto Jade’s shoulder.
And Jade—shaky, brave, steady—stayed right there.
Not as someone who needed rescuing.
But as someone finally becoming someone else’s anchor.
Some nights don’t need to end in big confessions.
Sometimes, they just need
two people on the floor,
holding hands in the dark,
learning how to be each other’s light.
End of Almost Love, Then Everything Chapter 27. Continue reading Chapter 28 or return to Almost Love, Then Everything book page.