The Evening After Chemo

 

After a few hours of sleep, I woke up feeling a tiny bit better — not good, but better than earlier. The nausea had started to settle in properly, that horrible rolling wave that sits in your chest, throat, and stomach all at once. But I wasn’t sick yet, so I had a little window before the real chemo crash hit.

 

Stefan messaged me asking if he could see me tonight.

 

I hesitated.

I was tired, emotional, fragile.

But part of me needed comfort — needed something familiar and safe — so I agreed.

 

Mum, being Mum, insisted I eat something before I left.

 

“Tomato soup,” she said, shoving the bowl into my hands like it was medicine.

I ate it slowly, my stomach not sure what to do with anything right now.

 

Then I got dressed into comfies — leggings and a loose top — because that’s all my body could cope with.

 

I didn’t tell Stefan I was walking down until I was nearly there.

I didn’t want him to pick me up.

I needed the fresh air, even if it stung my lungs.

 

When I got to his place, he’d put the heating on for me.

He knows I’m always freezing after chemo, bless him.

 

He took one look at me and said, “You look pale.”

 

“Yeah… the juice will do that to you,” I joked weakly.

 

We lay on his bed and talked.

Well, he talked — I mostly cried, because my hormones are all over the place and heartbreak has its own agenda.

 

And I couldn’t talk about Ryan.

Stefan has no idea about him.

His coworker.

His mate.

The man I fell for while I was with him.

 

That guilt sat heavy on my chest — heavier than the chemo, heavier than the nausea.

 

Then he told me he loved me.

And he wanted us to get back together.

 

That made me cry even more.

 

Because what kind of person am I?

A really bad one, apparently — someone who loves his workmate more than the man lying next to me.

 

Stefan hugged me.

And that helped.

Just that simple, warm, safe hug — his hand rubbing my back while I cried into his chest.

It was something I desperately needed.

Something human.

Something grounding.

 

And I was thankful for him in that moment.

 

I need to heal.

I need to forget about Ryan.

I need to stop letting someone who doesn’t care take up so much space in my mind.

 

Stefan brought up Ryan and Jem again — the gossip, the assumption they were a thing.

And I said honestly:

 

“I hope they both find happiness.”

 

And I meant it.

With everything in me.

Jem deserves happiness.

If she fell for Ryan, she’d be fine — he is a good man.

Complicated, angry, closed-off, but good.

 

I don’t wish anything bad on him — ever.

He’s been decent to me in ways he’ll never fully understand.

And one day, he’ll make someone incredibly happy.

 

It’ll hurt getting over him.

Of course it will.

But I will.

Even if it takes time.

 

At Stefan’s, the nausea finally kicked in properly.

My eyes hurt — heavy, gritty, sensitive — and I told him I needed to go home.

 

He drove me to Mum’s.