Chains Of The Heart

Chapter Two: A Shocking EncounterI’m busy scrubbing the kitchen floor, lost in the mundane rhythm of my chores, when the front door swings open. Noah's footsteps resonate through, and my heart tightens.He walks in with a man I recognize instantly: one I instantly know: Elvis, my high school boyfriend.The second his eyes connect with mine, it's like a floodgate opens—shock, panic, a flicker of something long buried. My heart races, but I force my face into a mask, pretending I haven’t just seen the guy who once owned my heart.“Rachel” Noah calls out, “You should be in the bedroom waiting for me now. What are you still doing?”“I am inside cleaning, and you came back very early today” I say shaking the “What have you been doing since morning? Sleeping? Eating?”“No” I say, shaking, “I am cooking for you”“Enough of the excuse, go to the bedroom, now!I feel a surge of resentment along with obedience, nodding. Turning toward the bedroom, I steal another glance at Elvis. There was re

I Chapter Four: Reality Rachel's POVI am sitting in the café, my body tense as a spring, and the soft hum of life around feels so far-off unreal. My fingers trace around the rim of the untouched coffee cup in front of me, and I find myself glancing at the clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes. My mind races between the warmth around me and cold dread crawling up my spine.I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have come. What was I thinking?The clock ticks again, and I turn to the time, my breath catching in my throat. Noah could be home by now. Or worse, on his way, noticing I'm not there.I remind myself that Noah most of the time doesn't care where I am, and yet the thought brings no comfort. I know how fast things can change with him. I know his moods, his unpredictable temper.My phone is face down, silent but menacing, on the table. Every second that ticks by seems to be a second closer to some kind of disaster, and yet I just can't make good my escape. I'm here now. Elvis is coming.

Chapter SixI stand in front of the mirror, looking at this reflection that seems foreign to me. My hair, once neatly styled, now hangs in loose strands around my face. I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of Elvis. His touch comes into my memory now, and it sends gooseflesh, remembering the thrill of holding his hand as he guided me into a world I never thought I could have.It's as though the house is suffocating, the walls closing in on me. I step into the kitchen, the stench of last night's dinner lingering, mixed with the antiseptic smell of bleach from the cleaning I did lately. The sharp reminder of my life with Noah: be a good wife, do everything he expects me to. But today, I feel different. Today, I feel alive.I see the sink, still piled high with the dishes I have left unwashed in that silent rebellion of mine. The plates stare back at me, and for a moment, I feel temptation to wash them out of force of habit. But then I remember the way Elvis l

Chapter EightNoah drives us to the hotel where the party is going to be, and the city lights sparkle like diamonds. I sit in the passenger seat, outwardly calm, but my stomach does flips of anticipation and apprehension. Noah has been off, distant a lot lately, and mentioning Isabella Stone—his old partner—made me uneasy.I look sideways at him, registering the way his jaw clenches as he fixes his gaze on the road. There's a thread of an intensity to his mood that I just can't read. It's almost as if he's practicing for something, bracing himself for an encounter that means more than he's letting on."Are you okay?" I ask, breaking the silence that stretches between us like pulled wire.He nods, but the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes says otherwise. "Yeah, just thinking about the presentation tonight.""Is that all?" I probe, trying to read his expression. "You seem. tense."He looks over at me, surprise flickering in his eyes. "It's just Isabella. I haven't seen her in years. I'