Unsteady

Chapter Twenty

Days later morning arrived like a weight pressing down on Regina's body. Harsh autumn rain slammed against the windows, a relentless percussion that shattered the silence of the night. The storm had come without warning, its sudden arrival dragging her from sleep long before she had intended. Her body, still heavy with the remnants of dreams, begged for more rest, but her mind refused to surrender. She lay there, her eyes wide open, the rain's drumming on the roof filling the space between her thoughts, keeping her awake.

Beside her, Graham remained blissfully undisturbed, his breathing deep and even, a quiet rhythm that suggested he was far removed from the chaos of the world outside. The storm had no place in his dreams. It was as if the tempest belonged to another realm entirely, one where he could remain untouched by its fury.

Regina, in contrast, felt the pull of the rain as it soaked through the walls and settled deep within her bones. She nestled deeper into the warmth of the covers, but the restless shiver of her body refused to subside. The storm outside matched the storm within her, a churning energy that left her unable to find solace. Her fingers, almost of their own accord, began tapping softly on her stomach, the steady rhythm a small comfort amid the cacophony of nature's fury.

The world outside was still draped in darkness, the first light of dawn nowhere to be seen. The air in the room, though heavy with the scent of rain, was also tinged with an unmistakable chill. It had crept in quietly, unnoticed until now, like a thief in the night. Sometime in the early hours, the fire in their hearth had fizzled out, leaving the room cold and bare. The air hung thick with the chill, a stark contrast to the warmth that the bed once promised. Even the heavy blankets that had been so comforting now felt inadequate against the cold creeping into every corner. Graham's warmth still radiated beside her, but it wasn't enough to fully stave off the bite of the winter that was beginning to settle in.

Regina shifted restlessly beneath the covers, pulling them tighter around her body, but it was no use. Sleep had slipped away entirely, as fleeting as the smoke from a dying fire. There was no point in staying in bed any longer, she realized. She carefully eased herself out from under the blankets, trying not to disturb Graham, but her movements were too abrupt. As the cool air greeted her bare skin, she shivered involuntarily, a sharp reminder of how cold the house had become in the stillness of the morning.

She dressed quickly, her movements swift and efficient as the chill seemed to tighten its grip around her, urging her to hurry. Slipping on her heels, Regina padded quietly down the stairs, each step muffled by the thick carpet beneath her feet. The kitchen was already alive with the quiet bustle of the maids, their soft voices blending with the warmth and smells of breakfast preparations. The scent of fresh bread and sizzling bacon filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the rain-soaked world outside.

Though the maids offered to make her coffee, Regina politely waved them off, her fingers already reaching for the familiar coffee machine. The simple, comforting task of brewing her morning cup was a small pleasure she allowed herself each day. The machine hissed and gurgled as it worked its magic, the rich aroma of the brewing coffee filling the space around her. It was the only thing that felt familiar in this strange, half-awake moment—a small anchor in the chaos of the storm.

With her steaming cup of coffee in hand, Regina made her way to the library, the warmth of the kitchen fading behind her as she entered the quieter, more intimate space. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its amber light casting dancing shadows across the shelves of books that lined the room. She settled into her favorite armchair, the worn leather cool against her skin, and opened a book at random. The pages rustled softly as she began to read, but her mind was distant, half-aware of the flickering light, the crackling of the fire, and the steady, persistent beat of the rain against the windows.