B E L L A || ✔️✔️

25 || I'll Meet You In The Meadow

Jace

The soft chime of the café door merged seamlessly with the gentle hum of conversation and the clink of coffee cups as Bella and I found our favorite spot by the window. The light was just right, filtering through the leaves of the small trees outside, casting playful shadows on our table. I noticed, however, that Bella seemed out of tune with this peaceful setting; her shoulders were tense, and her eyes flicked toward the door every time someone entered.

"Two lattes, please," I said to the barista, then turned back to Bella. "You want anything to eat?"

She shook her head, her focus momentarily meeting mine before scanning the room again. "Just the coffee, thanks."

We sat in silence, waiting for our drinks. The Bella sitting beside me today felt like a shadow of the vibrant girl I knew. Since the panic attack, she seemed to be fraying at the edges, a little more each day.

"You know, you can talk to me about anything, right?" I ventured cautiously.

She offered me a tight smile, her hands fiddling with the edge of her jacket. "I know, Jace. I'm just... it's been a lot. Today's class didn't help."

Our coffees arrived, breaking the moment. Bella wrapped her hands around her cup as though it could ward off her lingering anxiety. "It smells good," she commented, a hint of her usual warmth returning to her voice.

I took a sip of mine, feeling the familiar comfort of the café's blend. "Bella, I was thinking, maybe a change of scenery would do us good. How about we go out this weekend? Just you and me."

Her interest seemed piqued. "What did you have in mind?"

"It's the place I used to go to a few years ago," I started, the memory of it blooming in my mind like the flowers I used to pick. "The field full of forget-me-nots I told you about. It's not too far. It's peaceful, and right now, I think peace is exactly what we need."

Her expression softened, a gentle smile reached her eyes. "That sounds amazing. I'd like that very much."

Encouraged by her response, I leaned forward, the idea taking shape. "We could make a day of it. Pack a picnic, maybe bring a couple of books? It's quiet, and we could use a quiet place, couldn't we?"

Bella nodded, her smile now reaching her eyes. "It sounds perfect. A picnic and a day away from everything here," she gestured vaguely, encompassing more than just the café with her hand.

"That's settled then," I said, relieved to see her relaxing. "It's a date."

We sipped our coffees, the earlier tension slowly melting away as we discussed logistics and what to bring. The conversation drifted naturally, touching on lighter topics like our classes and mutual friends. Yet, a part of me remained acutely aware of Bella's underlying struggle, her recent jumpiness a stark contrast to her usual calm demeanor.

"I want you to know," I said, pausing to choose my words carefully, "that it's okay to feel anxious. It's okay to talk about it, too. I'm here, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Bella reached out, her hand covering mine. "I know, Jace. And I can't tell you how much that means to me."

We talked a bit more about her feelings, about the anxiety that seemed to ambush her when she least expected it. She talked about the pressures of school, of wanting to live up to expectations, and the inexplicable fears that the psychology class had stirred within her.

Listening to Bella, I understood the delicate balance she was trying to maintain between facing her anxieties and being overwhelmed by them. The trip to the field of forget-me-nots wasn't just a day out; it was a step toward reclaiming the calm she had lost.

As we left the café, the sunlight seemed to wrap around us, a gentle reminder of the world outside our worries. "This weekend will be good for us," I reassured her as we walked back to campus.

"I believe it will," Bella replied, her voice stronger now, infused with a tentative hope.

The days leading up to our trip were filled with small preparations—choosing which snacks to pack, which books to bring, discussing whether we needed a blanket or two. Each decision was a step away from the anxiety, a step toward something beautiful and shared.

When Saturday arrived, it was with a brilliant, cloudless sky. Bella seemed lighter, almost buoyant as we drove out of town. The field was just as I remembered it: a sea of tiny blue flowers stretching under the vast expanse of the sky.

We laid out our picnic blanket under the shade of a lone oak tree, the air around us filled with the gentle rustle of grass and the distant calls of birds. Bella took off her shoes, letting her feet brush over the tops of the forget-me-nots.

"It's beautiful, Jace," she said, a genuine smile playing on her lips as she looked around. "It feels like a different world."

"It was always a magical place for me," I confessed, settling beside her on the blanket. "I hoped it would be for you too."

We spent hours there, reading, talking, and sometimes just lying back and watching the clouds drift by. The calm of the place seemed to soak into us, filling the spaces that had been wound tight with stress and worry.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with strokes of pink and orange, Bella leaned against me, her head resting on my shoulder. "Thank you for today," she murmured. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

"I'm just glad to see you smile like that again," I said, my arm around her, feeling her relax further.

The drive home was quiet, comfortable. We were both tired, but it was the good kind of tired, the kind that comes from spending a day steeped in nature and tranquility.

That night, as we made our way back to the house, she turned to me, her eyes bright even in the dim light of the porch. "Let's not wait too long to do this again," she said.

"I promise, we won't," I replied, knowing that the field of forget-me-nots had woven a new thread into the fabric of our relationship, binding us closer with its tranquil beauty and the peace it had bestowed upon us both.