1, 2, 3 puff.
774 Words
The room felt like it was closing in on me as I read email after email—each one showing receipts and exact amounts for everything we’d paid, along with the refunds issued. My mind couldn’t process it. What was going on? Why were all of these shops sending me the same notifications, canceling everything at once? Something was wrong.
The more I thought about it, the more anxious I became. I paced around my room, asthma pump in hand, shaking it desperately. The wooshing sound of the medicine inside grounded me slightly, but my panic was rising. I hadn’t needed this pump in years, not since... well, not since yesterday, when I had my first panic attack in ages because of the funeral situation. And now this, on top of everything... I didn’t know how much more I could take.
I felt an overwhelming urge to call Jonathan, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it—not when I wasn’t even sure if what I was hearing was real. Was it possible that this was just a mistake? That all these shops had somehow messed up?
My only hope now was Fiona. She was the one who could confirm whether this was really happening or if it was just some weird mix-up.
I barely had time to think before my phone rang. I rushed to answer it, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Hello, Fiona? Have you confirmed it? Have you spoken to the assistant? What did she say?” My voice came out in a rush, frantic with worry. I needed answers. I had to know if this was really happening or if there was some other explanation.
“Ms. Heather, I spoke to my colleague,” Fiona said, her tone hesitant, making my anxiety spike. “She confirmed that Jonathan Miller, your fiancé, called our emergency unit to cancel your gown order.”
I froze. I felt the words hit me like a physical blow.
“No. No, Fiona, this can’t be right. Are you sure? Please, double-check. There has to be some kind of mistake,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. The panic inside me was a heavy, twisting knot, threatening to explode. I needed to hear that this wasn’t real.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I could barely breathe.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Heather,” Fiona said quietly. “If you’d like, you can speak to my manager. We haven’t processed the r****d of $4,500 yet, as we were waiting to confirm the cancellation with the bride. Now that you’ve confirmed you didn’t intend to cancel, I can escalate this to my higher-ups.”
The sympathy in her voice only made things worse. She was relaying a process to me, calmly explaining how the cancellation worked, while I was hearing that my fiancé had made the decision to cancel my wedding gown without telling me. My chest tightened, my breathing quickened.
I couldn’t speak. My mind was racing, and all I could focus on was the pounding in my chest.
“Ms. Heather?” Fiona asked, a little more urgently now. “Do you wish to proceed with the process?”
I didn’t answer. I just focused on taking slow breaths, but the tightness in my chest only worsened. My nose flared, and my chest felt like it was caving in. The air seemed thinner, and I couldn’t catch my breath.
I fumbled for the inhaler, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold it. My phone slipped from my hand, falling to the beige carpet with a soft thud, but I barely heard it. I was too focused on the pressure building in my chest.
I was having an asthma attack.
“Ms. Heather? Are you alright? Should I call an ambulance?” Fiona’s voice broke through my panicked haze, but I couldn’t respond. I could only focus on getting the inhaler to my mouth.
1, 2, 3 puffs.
1, 2, 3 puffs.
I did the breathing pattern my doctor had taught me when I was a child, trying to steady my breath, to make it stop. The panic was still there, swirling, but I had to get through it.
“Ms. Heather, I’m calling an ambulance if you don’t respond,” Fiona said urgently. I could hear her running around, the click of her heels in the background.
I squeezed out a breath, just enough to speak. “It’s… it’s alright, Fiona. I’m okay.”
I closed my eyes.
It wasn’t true, I refused to believe any of this, I did not want to take it in.
- Writer
