Last Updated on March 10, 2025 by melissanreynolds
I am so excited to announce that I have released a short story that’s available for free here. It’s a prequel story for the novel I have completed and am currently getting ready to be published on 1st May 2025!
For so long I thought I wouldn’t be able to tick off this bucket list item. Writing a large piece of fiction is a lot of work. But with all of the systems I’ve finetuned over the past 10 years blogging and writing non fiction books, I’ve managed to get it done.
So below is a preview of the short story, and you can download the full story, with a preview of Mindfully Yours, Ella my novel here. I hope you love it.
One Step At A Time
© Melissa Reynolds 2025 all rights reserved
Then he said the words I least expected: “I believe you have fibromyalgia.” The blue mask covering most of his face muffled his voice. I tried to focus, but it felt like he was talking at super speed, and I was hearing in slow motion.
“We diagnose it when you’ve experienced pain like this for over three months, trouble sleeping, and the exhaustion you’ve described.” He continued, and I tried hard to follow. “We’ve ruled out other conditions that mimic it and looked for other explanations. But now it’s time to treat it.”
None of this made sense. I got sick, the next step is to get better. My chest felt tight, my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to get out.
“Here’s a handout I printed for you. I want to start you on a new medication to see if we can’t get you sleeping better. This handout has some ideas for some self-treatment options.” He looked at me with concern, “do you have questions?”
The words dropped into my befuddled brain: self-treatment, new medication. “So there’s no fix?” I asked.
His face softened, “we can do our best to manage it, but for now, no. I’d highly recommend this book.” He wrote on the top of the handout. “Come back in a month, and we’ll evaluate the medication.”
I’d walked into the office expecting my blood tests to have revealed something easy to fix, and I was walking out with a handout about a condition with no fix.
Paying for this news felt cruel, but I paid and left. In my little two-door Toyota, I took a few deep breaths to rouse myself for the drive home.
Back at home, in the tiny apartment I shared with my boyfriend, I found suitcases. I placed my keys on the hook by the door. “Hello, Evan?” I called.
“Oh, hey.” He walked out of the bedroom, looked at the suitcases, and back to me, “We need to talk.”
“We do?” I said distantly, as he led me to the small, secondhand couch we’d bought from an op shop the day we graduated. We were so full of plans which started with our first home together.
He took a deep breath as if this was hard for him. He should try having had my day.
“Ella, you know I have loved our time together. We’ve made memories I’ll never forget. But you’ve changed.”
Exhaustion pressed down on me and my brain felt foggy from far too many hits today.
“We’ve both changed.” He continued, his voice soft, like it somehow makes this easier. “I can’t do this. Everything feels heavy all the time. You never want to do anything anymore, and when you do, you’re exhausted halfway through. I miss how things used to be.”
I felt the words like a slap. I missed it too—Gosh, how I missed it. But I didn’t have a choice. He did.
“I’ve taken a new job – it’s a good time for a fresh start. Don’t you think?”
I searched for a response and thought back to our last fight. Evan was mad because I didn’t want to go out with our friends last weekend and accused me of holding him back. He didn’t have one ounce of compassion for what I was feeling. He’d gone out, leaving me home alone in so much pain I nearly vomited.
I nodded because he expected me to. My chest felt so tight it could break. I don’t think I’d taken a deep breath since before I walked into the doctor’s office. My back muscles were so stiff it was like a corset holding me upright.
It was as if all colour faded to sepia, like old photos. I felt heavy, trapped in this body that no longer wanted to work right. Unsure of how this all happened.
All of his things were packed. And I realised he’s been planning this. He’d been one foot out the door since I first got sick. The initial bug was a terrible couple of weeks, but the weeks after that were the worst. The pain descended hard, sleep became a struggle, and the fatigue was overwhelming. I didn’t know what was happening. And he did not react like a boyfriend should have. It’s been me, by myself, for a while now.
When he finished, he cast me one last look, told me to take care of myself, and closed the door. It clicked shut, but the sound rang in my ears, echoing so loudly he may as well have slammed it. The silence pressed in around me. I stared at the door, feeling the weight of finality settle in my chest.
I sat in what I guess was now my unaffordable apartment, the handout still in hand. I felt like a boat that had been unmoored and then the anchor cut off, left to drift to the bottom of the sea.
One thought pierced the gloom; Kiera was the only person I could call. I knew she would pick up, and that she’d know what to do.
Get the full story
I hope you enjoyed the sneak peek into the prequel story One Step At A Time. you can download the full story, with a preview of Mindfully Yours, Ella my novel here
If you’re curious to follow my journey getting authentic chronic illness representation into fiction, sign up to my fiction newsletter list by downloading the story.
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Thank you for your support!
