Mine

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Chapter Seven

I pace back and forth in the bedroom, wringing my hands together. My heart thumps loudly in my chest as the mixture of fear and thrill pounds through me. I check the time again; I'm meeting Elvis soon. The thought causes a flush of heat to my cheeks. It's been so long since I've done anything that feels so. for me.

I look into the mirror, smoothing out my dress, which I picked very carefully today. It's simple but fits well, bringing out some color in my face. I run a brush through my hair one last time and take a shaky breath. This is not wrong, I told myself. I'm just meeting a friend. But in my heart of hearts, I knew that was the surface thought.

My cell phone vibrates, and I practically jump. It's Elvis, saying, "I'm here. Take your time."

He's always been patient, has always been so understanding. I snatch my purse and leave the house, making sure to shut the door quietly. Noah's gone for hours; there's just no way he'll ever know. Yet my heart pounds harder with each step I take towards the car.

****

It feels like an eternity of a drive, though it's only a couple of minutes. I pull up to a quiet park, shrouded by trees with a few empty benches dotted here and there. Elvis stands near one, hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning the path until they land on me. His face lights up, and I feel this warmth in my chest that I haven't felt in years.

"Rachel," he says, his voice soft as I approach. Just the way he says my name makes me feel like he truly sees me, really knows me. It's comforting but a little terrifying, too.

"Hi," I say, smiling nervously. I try to play it cool, but I just can't help how my heart is racing.

We sit down on a bench under the trees, and comfortable silence descends between us. I realize how much I have missed this-feeling my ability to sit with someone without pressure or expectations.

"How have you been?" he asks softly, his tone gentle as if he knows already that I have been struggling.

I look down, fingers fidgeting on the edge of my dress. "Honestly, I don't know," I admit. "Things. things have been hard.

He nods, awaiting my elaboration. It's even easier like that since his patience makes me feel that I don't have to hurry or justify anything. "I feel like I'm living a life that's not mine. It's like. I'm just going through the motions, doing what's expected, but there's no real joy in it."

Elvis sighs, and I see the sadness in his eyes. "Rachel, you don't have to live like that. You deserve more than to just exist."

Those words strike right through me. More than just existing. I know he's right, but it's not as simple as that. "It's complicated," I whisper. "Noah. he's always watching, always making sure I'm doing what he wants. I don't even know who I am anymore."

Elvis says, leaning in closer, not letting his eyes leave mine. "But I see who you are, Rachel. I see the real you, the person you were before. everything.".

I feel a lump in my throat. He remembers that girl, the one who was free, who had dreams and hopes. Being with Elvis feels like stepping back into a part of myself I thought was lost. "I feel so trapped, Elvis," I say, my voice cracking. "Sometimes I think about leaving, about just walking away from it all."

He says nothing for a moment, but his hand moves to rest over mine, his warmth grounding me. "You don't have to live like this," he whispers. "You're not alone."

The touch of his hand sends a wave of warmth through me, and I suddenly feel like crying. Not out of sadness but out of relief. For once, someone understands. For once, I don't have to pretend.

We sit in silence for a very long time, his hand still laid over mine. The weight of his touch is so real, steady, as if he is holding me up. Slowly, I turn to him, taking in the way he looks at me, his eyes full of something I haven't seen in a long time. Hope.

"Elvis…" My voice no more than a whisper, I don't even know what I'm going to say. But before I can get it out, he leans in. His face is inches from mine. My heart pounds so loud I'm sure he can hear it.

I don't pull back. I don't move. His eyes search mine for a moment, it feels like, for permission, and then his lips find mine. It's a soft kiss, first, a hesitant one-like testing the waters-but soon it becomes deeper. The years fall away from longing and unspoken feelings between us.

It's everything I've missed, everything I've craved. His hands went to my waist, pulling me closer, and I let myself melt into him, lost in this moment. It was like I woke up after years of sleeping, feeling alive in a way I hadn't in such a very long time.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathless, staring at each other in silence. I don't know what to say. Part of me feels guilty, but another part feels free, the weight finally taken off my chest.

"Elvis, I..." I start, but he just shakes his head, a small smile playing on his face.

"You don't have to say anything," he says softly. "Just know that I'm here. Whenever you're ready."

―

We spend hours together, just talking, laughing, sharing memories. Easy, so natural. With him, I don't need to be anyone else. I can just be me.

Finally, I glance at my wrist, and reality creeps back in. Noah will be home soon. The thought sends a chill running down, and I begin gathering my things.

"I really have to go," I say, the regret heavy in my voice. "Noah. he can't know."

Elvis looks at me, his eyes conveying concern and frustration. "Rachel, you don't need to be scared. You deserve to be happy."

I nod, but I just can't find myself agreeing. Happiness seems to be so very elusive, something only fully captured in moments like this. "I know," I say softly, hoping to make myself believe it.

He leans in, cups my face tenderly. "You can have more than moments, Rachel. You can have a life that's yours.

I swallow, the weight of his words settling deep in my heart. I want that life. I want it so badly. But as I turn to walk away, I know it's not that simple. Not yet.

"Thanks," I say, giving him a small smile. "For today. For reminding me of who I am."

He smiles back, the heat in his eyes filling me with a weird, reassuring hope. "I'll be here, Rachel. Whenever you're ready."

I feel his gaze on me as I walk away, and for the first time in years, I do not feel utterly alone. I might still be trapped, still bound by this life I have been living, but now, deep inside me, something new has been lit up. A small flicker of courage, of hope, that I might-just might-be able to find my way out.