Chapter 18: Laughter and Comfort
It had been three weeks since the report.
Three long weeks of holding her breath, waiting for something—anything—to change.
And yet, the silence from certain people had been louder than any storm.
Lina had faced her past with courage, only to be met with the bitter sting of rejection from those she thought might help.
People who'd seen things. People who'd known. And still, when it mattered… they chose silence.
The weight of it was hard to describe. Not just the disappointment—but the shame that curled around her ribs every time she had to ask for help.
Asking was hard.
Needing was harder.
But Jonas noticed.
So he planned something.
"Dinner," he said one morning, brushing her hair off her shoulder while she tried to convince herself she wasn't just drifting through the day.
"Food, laughter, terrible music. You, me, and the people who actually matter."
And so they gathered.
Jonas's place had been transformed into a cozy haven of warmth and good smells.
Candles flickered in small glass jars, snow piled gently on the windowpanes, and the scent of roasted garlic, herbs, and grilled meat filled the air.
Mia walked in first, dropping her coat and throwing her arms around Lina. "We missed you."
Behind her came Leo, with a cheeky smile.
"Also, we missed Jonas's food. He doesn't cook like this when you're not around. We suffer."
"Tragic," Jonas deadpanned, setting down a bowl of something that smelled suspiciously addictive.
"Try the stew. Family recipe."
Marc, one of Jonas's oldest friends, grinned as he set the wine on the table.
"Family recipe my ass. He stole that from my grandmother and just added rosemary."
Jonas raised a brow. "Improved, not stole."
"You improved it by forgetting half the ingredients."
Everyone laughed, the tension melting like butter on hot bread.
Later in the evening, as glasses were filled and plates were emptied, the stories began.
"I swear," Leo said, wiping his mouth, "Mia used to be the scariest person in the neighborhood."
"I was not!" Mia objected, her cheeks instantly flaming red.
"Oh, you were terrifying," Marc chimed in.
"Remember the squirrel funeral?"
Lina blinked. "The what now?"
Mia groaned. "Don't. I was seven!"
"She held a funeral for a squirrel that got hit by a bike," Leo explained, half-choking with laughter. "Made us all wear black and say something nice about it. I said it had a great tail, and she made me start over because I wasn't being sincere enough."
"It was a respectful ceremony," Mia muttered, burying her face in her hands.
Lina laughed until she nearly cried.
Then came Jonas's turn.
Marc leaned forward. "Okay, so tell me you've shared the trampoline story."
Jonas narrowed his eyes. "Don't you dare."
Marc ignored him. "He was trying to impress a girl when we were sixteen. Tried to do a double flip. Midair, he realized he didn't know how to stop flipping."
"Oh no," Lina said, grinning wide.
"Oh yes. He launched himself right into a bush.
Had twigs in his hair for a week."
Jonas shook his head, glaring with mock anger. "I hate you."
Lina couldn't stop smiling.
This—this was what healing looked like.
Not just tears and truth, but also warm stew and ridiculous stories.
Her ribs ached from laughing, and for the first time in weeks, it wasn't forced.
She looked around the table at the people who had shown up. Who hadn't needed proof to believe her. Who'd just believed.
And when Jonas reached for her hand beneath the table, she didn't flinch.
She squeezed his fingers gently.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He leaned close, brushing his lips against her temple.
"Always."