RESET
CHAPTER 16
— RESET —
Christine stood up. "I'm ordering food. Stay there," she said firmly.
Jeffrey nodded, watching her with tired eyes.
She reached for an empty bottle on the coffee table. Before she could grab it, Jeffrey's hand covered hers. "I can clean it," he said softly.
She gently moved his hand aside.
"Just stay there. I'll take care of this."
He let out a shaky breath and leaned back against the cushions, finally letting someone else carry the weight for once.
She gathered the empty bottles and glasses, taking them to the kitchen sink until the living room looked less like the aftermath of a breakdown and more like a home again.
She stepped into the kitchen and called his assistant.
"Hi. Jeffrey's been sleeping all day with a bad migraine. He's okay, but he's taking the rest of the weekend off. No calls until Monday."
She ended the call and looked back toward the living room.
Jeffrey was still watching her. His shoulders had relaxed, the tension slowly draining from his body. For the first time since she'd arrived, the apartment didn't feel quite so heavy.
Christine folded a damp towel in her hands as she walked back toward him.
He hasn't taken care of himself all day, she realized. "Where's your closet?"
Jeffrey frowned. "Why?" he asked, embarrassed. Stop fussing over me.
"Just tell me." she answered
He sighed. "There. Inside my room. The wooden cabinet."
The fight had finally left his voice.
Christine stepped into his bedroom.
I'm in his private space.
The thought lingered as she opened the cabinet and found a clean white T-shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts. She ducked into the bathroom, wet the towel again with cool water, and returned.
Jeffrey looked up as she approached.
He's been carrying the world alone.
Let me carry this.
She stopped in front of him.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"You're a mess, Jeffrey."
Her voice was gentle as she dabbed the cool towel against his forehead.
Jeffrey closed his eyes.
She's actually doing this.
Disbelief slowly gave way to gratitude.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Without saying anything, Christine continued wiping the sweat from his face before trailing the towel down the side of his neck.
Then she held out the clean clothes.
"You're still wearing yesterday's shirt. Change into this."
Jeffrey accepted them, his fingers brushing against hers. They were still trembling.
He searched her face.
For judgment.
For pity.
For disappointment.
Instead, he found only quiet concern.
He drew a slow breath.
There was no point pretending anymore.
He pulled the wrinkled shirt over his head. The cool air brushed against his skin, making him shiver as the worn fabric fell to the floor.
Christine gently wiped his shoulders and upper chest before handing him the towel.
"You do the rest."
She stepped back.
"I'll be in the kitchen. The food should be here in about twenty minutes."
She didn't want to leave.
But he needed his dignity.
She wanted him to feel like himself again—not like someone who needed to be looked after.
As she disappeared into the kitchen, she heard the quiet rustle of fabric behind her.
The sound was small.
Ordinary.
Yet somehow comforting.
For the first time in days, Jeffrey wasn't putting on another suit to face the world.
He was simply changing into clean clothes.
Somehow, that felt like the first step toward finding himself again.
Christine turned on the coffee machine, its familiar hum filling the quiet apartment.
She kept her back to him, giving him the privacy to finish getting dressed.
"I'll make us some coffee," she said. "Black, as usual?"
"Black," Jeffrey replied, his voice still rough. "Thank you."
Christine nodded and reached for two mugs.
As the coffee brewed, its rich aroma slowly filled the apartment, softening the silence between them.
For the first time in days, the quiet didn't feel heavy.
A few minutes later, she returned to the living room and sat beside him, leaving a comfortable space between them.
She handed him a mug.
"Feeling better?"
Jeffrey wrapped both hands around the warm ceramic before taking a careful sip.
"A little," he admitted. "Better than yesterday."
Christine studied him for a moment.
"You look like a person again."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
The first genuine one she'd heard in days.
"So I didn't before?"
She smiled.
"Not even close."
He shook his head, smiling into his coffee.
"Then... I'm glad you came."
The words were simple.
No expectations.
No pressure.
Just gratitude.
Christine looked down at her own mug, smiling softly.
"Me too."
The doorbell buzzed, breaking the quiet.
Jeffrey stiffened, gripping his mug.
Christine rested a reassuring hand on his arm.
"It's just the food."
He nodded, letting out a slow breath.
She answered the door, accepted the delivery, and returned to the dining table.
Steam curled from the bowl as she poured the sinigang into it.
"I ordered sinigang and mixed vegetables," she said. "Good for a hangover."
Jeffrey stared at the steaming soup.
His hands still shook slightly.
"You really shouldn't have had to see me like this," he said quietly.
After a moment, he looked up.
"But... I'm starving."
A faint smile appeared.
"And this is exactly what I needed."
His eyes met hers.
"A warm meal..."
He swallowed.
"And you."
"Thank you, Christine."
"Really."
They ate quietly.
The warmth of the meal slowly eased the heaviness hanging over the apartment.
After a while, Jeffrey set his spoon down.
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
He stared at the table.
"I hit a wall."
"Everything became too much."
"I felt like such a failure... and I couldn't bear the thought of you seeing me like that."
"So I hid."
"I thought if I disappeared for a while, I'd figure everything out on my own."
Christine quietly placed her spoon beside her bowl.
"I was hurt at first, Jeff."
She smiled sadly.
"I won't pretend I wasn't."
"But after a while..."
She shook her head.
"I stopped being hurt."
"I was just... scared."
"I didn't come here to lecture you."
"I came because I couldn't stop imagining the worst."
"I just needed to see you with my own eyes."
She reached across the table and placed her hand over his.
"I was terrified I'd lost you."
Jeffrey's chest tightened.
His eyes burned.
"I'm so sorry, Christine."
"I really am."
She squeezed his hand.
"And I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."
He held her hand a little tighter.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"For everything."
The silence that followed wasn't painful anymore.
It was peaceful.
The knot that had been tightening inside both of them for days finally began to loosen.
Christine smiled gently.
"I'm not asking you to fix everything tonight."
Jeffrey gave a tired smile.
"Good."
"Because I don't think I can."
"You don't have to."
She squeezed his hand again.
"We'll take it one day at a time."
Hope slowly returned to his eyes.
"Then..."
He hesitated.
"Spend tomorrow with me."
"No work."
"No pretending."
"Just us."
Christine smiled.
"I'd like that."
He let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"So..."
She smiled a little wider.
"Let's start over."