Dancing with Time

My cousin Troy

Dedicated to: unmasked_secret

"A brother's love is a fortress, protecting his sister from the world's cruelties and ensuring she feels safe and loved."

Sunlight, a rogue strand reaching through a gap in the curtains, speared Juliet's eyelids awake. She squeezed them shut against the unwelcome intrusion, a groan escaping her lips. Despite a seemingly restful sleep, exhaustion clung to her like a shroud. Through bleary eyes, she squinted at the clock on the nightstand.

Nine a.m. Panic jolted through her like a bolt of lightning. Troy! Troy! Her green eyes flew open, wide and frantic. She couldn't be caught like this, entangled in the sheets beside her husband, the man Troy currently loathed. She had no idea how they'd ended up back in the bedroom after drifting off on the couch last night. The memory of tangled limbs and shared warmth sent a shiver down her spine, quickly followed by a surge of guilt.

Flung from sleep to a state of high alert, Juliet attempted to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but her body refused to cooperate. Keith's arm, a familiar weight around her waist, held her captive. His legs intertwined with hers, and his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of her neck. Ignoring the familiar spark that ignited at his touch, a spark she shouldn't feel, she tried to disentangle herself from his iron grip. Tried being the operative word.

Frustration bubbled up within her. A huff escaped her lips as she crossed her arms, the gesture belying the frantic pounding of her heart. "Keith!" she whined, her voice tight with suppressed panic. A feeble tug at his arm did little to loosen his hold.

"Mmm... just five more minutes, love," he mumbled sleepily, nuzzling his face deeper into the crook of her neck. The words should have been a comfort, a testament to their intimacy. Instead, they sent a fresh wave of heat flooding her cheeks. Can you get any closer? She thought wryly, a touch of sarcasm laced with a tremor of unwanted desire.

A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes, threatening to morph into a full-blown migraine. Medicine. The kitchen. Advil. The words echoed in her head, a mantra against the rising tide of panic. "No," she pleaded, her voice strained. Every attempt to free herself seemed to drain her energy further. The throbbing in her head intensified with each passing second, a relentless drumbeat urging her toward the medicine cabinet. There, in the cool sanctuary of the kitchen, awaited a bottle of Advil, a promise of sweet, blessed relief. "Please," she pleaded, her voice weak but laced with a newfound determination. Her movements felt sluggish, her energy draining away with each tug. "I... I need water," she lied, desperation lacing her tone. Keith, sensing the shift in her mood, finally relented, his arms releasing her with a lingering kiss on her cheek.

A ghost of his warmth lingered, a stark contrast to the sudden chill that enveloped her. Ignoring the pang of loss, Juliet focused on the task at hand – escaping the tangled sheets and making her way to the medicine cabinet.

A wave of nausea crashed over Juliet, stealing the breath from her lungs. The room lurched around her, the sharp edges of furniture blurring into an unsettling watercolor painting. Every muscle in her body throbbed in protest as she attempted to rise, legs like leaden weights. The dull ache from skipping meals the previous day had morphed into a searing pain. With gritted teeth, she pushed herself upright, the world tilting precariously with each shaky step toward the door.

The oak door, usually a reassuring presence, loomed oppressively. Her arms, sapped with strength, felt like overcooked noodles as she reached for the handle. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision, threatening to consume everything. Just two flights down, she silently pleaded, willing her body to cooperate.