Dangerous Escape

Chapter Five

Noah leaves to go work early, slams the door behind him without a word-just like always. But the sound of it echoing in the house this time doesn't instill dread within me.

Relief.

The thought enters my mind for the first time in a long while-I'm alone. No watchful eyes, no taunting remarks, no commands to attend to. Just me, and the silence that comes with freedom, even if it is temporary. I glance around the living room, a place that has never felt like home. Same dusting, cleaning, cooking. I'm tired of it, tired of living like a maid in my own marriage.

I don't know the last time I've done something for myself. Or the last time I felt something real. Noah doesn't care about me; he hasn't in a long time. Our marriage is nothing but an empty shell, built on obligation and control. He took me out of a difficult situation, yes, but in return, he took my freedom.

I'm tired of it. I deserve more.

I'm done playing obedient wife, living by somebody else's rules. Today, I'm living for myself.

I glance at the time. Elvis is waiting for me. My pulse quickens at the thought of him-his eyes, the way they looked at me with that mix of longing and familiarity. The way he made me feel seen, really seen, after so many years of feeling invisible.

Noah won't know. He's at work.

I take my phone in trembling hands and text Elvis: "I want to see you." Just that straightforward.

His response is almost instantaneous: "Meet me in an hour. Same place."

I toss my phone onto the bed and turn to my reflection in the mirror. It stares back-pale, worn out, a stranger I have grown all too used to looking past. But not today. Today, I don't want to be her anymore. I wear a dress I haven't worn in years, one that clings to my body, accentuating curves I've long hidden under layers of lifeless clothes. I run a brush through my hair, applying just a hint of makeup. It's almost absurd-getting to dress up to see someone who knew me before I ever needed makeup to feel pretty.

I glance at the clock. Noah won't be home for hours, long enough for me to see Elvis and be back before he suspects a thing.

But a little voice in the back of my head whispers—is this really all about Elvis?

I hush it. I'm allowed to want more. I'm allowed to feel alive.

***

The moment I see Elvis, my heart skips a second. I can't doubt, the feeling is still fresh. 

He's waiting for me at the park, leaning against the bench.

"Rachel." His voice is soft, cautious, as I approach. Yet beneath his eyes lies something more – something that hasn't been there in years. Desire.

Elvis," I whisper, my voice shaking. It's pathetic how his name still can affect me so much.

I sit down next to him, and for a few minutes, we simply sit in silence. It's comfortable, yet the air between us is thick with unspoken words.

"I didn't think you'd come," he says, glancing down at his hands. "After yesterday.

"I needed to," I say, surprised at the firmness in my voice. "I'm tired of being someone I'm not."

He nods-a small, meaningful nod of understanding, as if something has passed between us that doesn't require words. He had always possessed an uncanny sense when it came to knowing my emotions without my having to say so much as a word.

I finally get, "I never knew why you left. You just. vanished. One day we were planning our future together, and then you were gone. No explanation.".

My throat tightens, memories flooding back—how I left him, how I married Noah, not out of love but out of desperation. I owe it to Elvis, the truth, but it's hard to say it out loud. "I didn't have a choice," I confess. "My family. they were in debt. Noah promised to take care of everything if I married him. It wasn't about love. It never was."

His jaw clenches as his hands fist. "So you gave up everything. for him?"

"I didn't see another way." My voice cracks, and the vulnerability in my admission hangs between us.

He slowly turns back to me, his eyes locked on mine, and I see the hurt there, the betrayal, but there's something else too. Hope. "And now?" he asks, his voice low and barely audible. "Is there still a chance? For us?

The question cuts through me, sharp and unexpected. I look at him, really, look at him, and my heart aches. There is just something still between them, something that never quite died after all these years.

"I don't know," I say honestly, my voice shaking in the words. "I just don't know what I am doing anymore. All I know is that with Noah. it's not living. It's surviving."

Elvis's hand reaches out, his fingers warm and achingly familiar against mine. The touch is electric, sending a jolt of something dangerous and thrilling through me. "You don't have to survive anymore," he says, low and steady. "You can choose something else. You can choose me.

I swallow hard, the weight of his words sinking in. It's real. 

Before I can start second-guessing myself, before the fear can take hold, I lean in. The kiss is soft first, tentative, like we're both testing the waters of something we know we shouldn't be doing. But then it deepens, and the years of separation, the years of longing, dissolve in an instant.

His hands drop to my waist, pulling me closer, and I let myself fall into the moment—into him. I can't deny, I have missed him so much. The way he stares at me, I feel relief so well. This is what I have been craving for 

"Elvis." I whisper his name against his lips, my voice barely audible. "I can't.

But even as the words are leaving my lips, I don't pull away. I can't.

“I know this is hard for you. But aren't you tired of pretending? Aren't you tired of pretending to be happy?

His words unlock something inside me, something I've kept hidden for so long. I'm tired of pretending. I'm tired of being scared.

We spend the next few hours kissing and caressing each other.

 There's just us-two people lost in one moment that we've both been waiting for.

Finally, he made me lie down, insert his dick on me and I had the sex I have been willing and craving to have, slowly and sweetly.

*****

It isn't until I glance at my watch that reality slams down hard on what I have actually done. Noah will be back home soon.

I sit up, eyes wide with panic as it surges through my veins. "I have to go," I say frantically gathering my stuff. "Noah. he can't find out."

Elvis rises to his feet, his face carved in a mixture of concern and frustration. "Rachel, you don't have to live like this. You don't have to keep running."

"I don't have a choice," I say, my voice tight with fear. "If Noah finds out.

He steps closer, his hand cupping my face. "Then leave him," he says simply, like it's the easiest thing in the world.

But it's not easy. It's not simple. I pull away, shaking my head. "I can't. Not yet."

"When, then?" he asks, his voice edged with desperation. "When will you finally stop letting him control you?

I can't answer him, because I am not sure if he would ever stop controlling me.

“Elvis, let me call you” I say

Elvis watches me as I walk away, his gaze heavy on my butt and hip.

I never wish to leave him, with him, I feel so relieved. I knew so well that I can't continue like this, I need peace 

I can't continue this way.

S