Collapsing and Renewing Herself

Collapsing and Renewing Herself
Nico

“Did she eat anything?” I asked Lisa quietly. My voice didn’t even sound like mine anymore. A week. It had only been a week since Serena came home, and somehow she had shrunk, physically, emotionally and spiritually. She had lost more weight in these seven days than she had over the last few months combined. It was like her body waited until she was back home—safe—to finally collapse.

And she was collapsing.

“She ate little,” Lisa whispered. She looked exhausted too. We all were. She was just an employee but her care for Serena was genuine. “Mr. Romano… she has been throwing up since morning. Now she has resting. Her body doesn’t have much energy today.”

My jaw clenched. A familiar helplessness sank into my bones. “I will send the doctor—”

“There’s no point,” Lisa cut in gently. “I tried. She said she knows what is happening with her body. She asked me to get her a few medicines. I will get them.”

I nodded stiffly. I didn’t trust myself to speak.

The therapist’s words were still echoing in my head: She is suffering from delayed PTSD. Her mind survived the trauma but her body held it in. Now it’s letting go. You have to let her unravel so she can rebuild.

Unravel. Rebuild. Easier said than done.

It broke us, every single one of us, to watch her like this. Serena, who used to argue with me over the correct way to have coffee, who laughed at stupid jokes, who could stare down a room full of people who feared my name but now couldn’t hold her own weight up.

She cried every day. Or she didn’t cry at all, just stared into walls like she was somewhere else entirely.

And the worst part?

She had gone through all of it alone. Without anyone. Without me. No one knew what was done to her. No one could even imagine.

I walked to our room, bracing myself. Most days, she yelled the moment I stepped inside. Sometimes she even flinched away from me.

But today, the moment I opened the door, I heard the sound.

Retching.

I rushed to the washroom. Serena was kneeling on the cold tiles, her entire body shaking. She was gagging but nothing came out anymore. Just the awful sound of a body trying to reject pain.

“Serena…” My chest squeezed painfully.

She didn’t yell when I knelt beside her. She didn’t push me away. She was too weak to do that.

I held her hair back, gently rubbing her back as she dry-heaved. Minutes passed. Finally, when the violent spasms stopped, she slumped sideways, exhausted and trembling.

I didn’t think, I just acted. I slid my arms under her and picked her up princess-style. She didn’t fight it. She didn’t even tense. She just rested her head against my chest like she used to.

God. That was enough to break me.

I placed her on the bed carefully and brushed her hair off her forehead, kissing her temple. “If you want me to go, I will.”

Silence.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, breathing shakily.

So I took the chance.

I lay beside her, spooning her gently. She smelled like vomit, sweat, fear… but she was still my Serena. My brave, stubborn, loud, beautiful Serena. And right now she was fragile, and I didn’t know how to hold her without breaking myself.

After a while, she fell asleep in my arms. Soft breaths and small tremors. I didn’t move for a long time.

When I finally did, it was only to take care of her.

I changed her into clean clothes. Slowly, making sure to keep her comfortable. I wiped her body with warm water, careful not to wake her. My fingers brushed her hair and I froze.

There was a patch which was uneven, shorter and cut messily.

My throat tightened.

Someone had cut her hair.

Why? When? How?

I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know. Not tonight. I kissed her hair gently and braided it loosely, covering the damaged part under the longer strands.

After tucking her under the blanket, I dimmed the room. The door opened quietly behind me.

Lucia peeked in, her expression a mix of worry and hope. When she saw Serena sleeping and me sitting beside her, her face softened.

“She okay?” she whispered.

“Just sleeping,” I murmured.

Lucia’s eyes glistened. She hesitated, then stepped closer, though her steps were small and uncertain. Serena had snapped at her several times this week, but Lucia never took it personally. The kid had a heart too soft for this family.

“Go on,” I whispered.

She nodded slowly, leaned in, and kissed Serena’s forehead.

At that moment, Serena stirred. Her eyes fluttered open. The fear that always flickered there was lighter this time.

“Luce…” she whispered, barely audible.

Lucia instantly stepped back. “I’m going. I’m sorry. I just came to see you.”

Serena didn’t say anything. She just stared at her sister, breathing unevenly.

Lucia gave me a tiny shake of her head. “Let’s not push it more,” she whispered.

I nodded. “Rest,” I told Serena softly. “If you need anything or anyone, just tell Lisa, okay?”

Serena looked at both of us, and for the first time in days, her expression wasn’t pure pain. She nodded slowly.

When we stepped out, Lucia exhaled in relief. “That was progress. Thank god.”

“We just need to give her time,” I said.

Lucia’s face twisted. “She is going to lose her mind again if we tell her about… you know.”

“I know.” I rubbed my face. “But she will understand.”

Lucia snorted. “You got me married to Adrian. Are you insane? Do you actually think Serena is going to understand that? Nico, you’re cooked. Completely cooked.”

I swallowed hard. “I had no other choice. If we didn’t do it, they would’ve taken you away. If they could do this to Serena…” My voice cracked. “I can’t imagine what they would’ve done to you.”

Lucia went quiet.

Then, in a soft voice filled with disbelief, she said, “I never thought you of all people would ever worry about me.”

I gave a humorless chuckle. “God has ways of surprising people, doesn’t He?”

Lucia smirked faintly. “Apparently.”