I dropped the call, my face warped by distress. I palmed my forehead, thinking for a minute— whether to tell this to Damian or just face it myself.Anikka’s words lingered in my mind, heavy and inescapable.A woman. With luggage. Looking for Damian.That wasn’t difficult to guess, and I bet even with my mind tampered with alcohol I would still be able to tell why she was there. I exhaled sharply. I lowered the phone from my ear, my grip so tight my knuckles whitened. The air in the room suddenly felt stiff, as if the walls pressed in a little closer. I looked over at Elon, who was standing near Alicia, probably curious with the phone call, considering she even passed it over to me instead of just saying it later.His eyes wandered in mine— and I wanted to smile.But I couldn’t.“You didn’t bring your car…” Alicia spoke, a bit worried. Then, she looked down on Elon. “But you can use mine, and I can look after him…”I nodded, my breath becoming a hitch. “I’ll take a cab. Please look aft
“What are you trying to say, that what I saw was just a part of your scheme?” I clenched my fists, my brows furrowing deeper. “ That dating Ethab was just a facade to hide your relationship with Damian?”God, just as I thought I finally had an upper hand. So, that’s the reason why she smirked at me back then. She was smug because she knew even though I saw her, I wouldn’t be able to use that against her.Elizabeth, in her mocking expression, stood before me with her sweet smile resting across her face. Her golden hair was cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders, complimenting her angelic face. Her deep brown eyes gleamed with fake sincerity, as though she was innocent— and she was the one being wronged here. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Eleanor.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Her posture was casual, and effortless— the same old stance that always got me thinking why she chose to be a model than an actress.With that behavior, and attitude, she wouldn’t ne
The silence that engulfed the whole living room was thick and suffocating. It was stretching like an invisible force pressing down on my chest, each second making me want to cry out of frustration and pressure.I knew what I said took them by surprise. It was still in the air and I could feel it poisoning the atmosphere.And then.."How dare you?"My father's voice tore through the silence. The sharp edge of his disapproval sliced into me, sending shivers down my spine. It reminded me of when we were kids— when Elizabeth would lie and frame me for something I didn’t do.So, I braced myself, fearing deja vu. His dark, scrutinizing eyes bore into mine, the same moment his expression contorted with something between disbelief and disgust.My stepmother, who was standing beside Elizabeth, let out one big dramatic gasp. "Eleanor!" She called my name in horror, her eyes full of terror like she had just witnessed murder. She then shook her head with exaggerated disappointment. "What on eart
I was sobbing hard, each ripping through my chest uncontrollably. I cried—loud, messy, and unrestrained. I let out years of pent-up pain emotions, and it poured out of me in waves, shaking me to the core. I spent so much time pretending to be strong, but now? I didn’t think I could even pretend anymore. After that confrontation, all my tough walls just melted like ice cubes in a heating pan.I was so lost of it, I barely noticed the soft footsteps rushing toward me until a pair of hands touched my shoulder.“Miss Eleanor?”I looked up to see who it was— at first a bit blurry, but one harsh wipe was all it took to see Anikka, one of my maids. Her voice was cautious, and hesitant, as if she wasn’t sure if she was even allowed to come near me. When I didn’t push her away, she knelt beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, which took me by surprise.“W-what… are you doing?” I asked with my voice filled with woe.Why is she hugging me…“I don’t know how else I can comfort you, Ma
Mike showed up unannounced— or maybe I wasn’t just paying attention to messages I receive. As he said, he was sending me tons and I haven’t replied. I’ll probably check later to know if it was true, or today was his day off and he didn’t have anything to do.Mike was standing near my wooden easel with his hands in his pockets. He was looking at me with a wide smile and a bit of excitement dancing in his eyes. I didn’t know what though, for. I chuckled and shut the door closed behind me. I held Elon’s left hand to walk near Mike. “What’s that smile about?”“I’m just glad you haven’t forgotten about that,” he said, cheery. “You know, that you owe..”“You’re not going to ask me to pay it right back now… are you?”I pulled a chair, and gestured Elon to sit there. I moved around to get another chair for Mike, before I turned to Alicia. “Thank you for looking after Elon, Alicia.” “I’m glad to be of help to you, Eleanor.” She smiled, but I could tell she wanted to hear about what happene
Mike left. That was our cue to get inside. Elon walked beside me, his small hand in mine. He talked about the cars parked outside, the flowers lining in the pathway—but I could I barely registered his words. My mind was busy pondering over what happened.I wasn’t planning to think about it— but looking at the house made me feel the same tension I felt this morning. I hated to, but it felt like a ghostly scene that I couldn’t get rid of. “Dad didn’t bring his black car. I always thought it’s his best out of his three. It’s super cool!” Elon tugged at my fingers, trying to pull me into his excitement.I forced a small smile. I looked down to him and squeezed his hand lightly. “Yeah. I know, baby. You always tell me that.” I breathed. “Do you want me to borrow your dad’s keys so we could try driving it?”His grin was wide. “Can we?”I nodded. As we reached the entrance, I noticed the doors were already open. Mathilde and Anikka were there, waiting. And they had always been attentive,
I hesitated. Looking at the new message I was about to send, seconds stretched with anticipation. Was apologizing the right thing? He was late. He wasn’t answering my calls.Would this sound like I was pleasing him too much?My phone buzzed again, disrupting my thoughts. Damian’s name flashed on the screen, and I once again contemplated if I would answer it.But I was sure as hell he’d be mad if I didn’t.I inhaled sharply before swiping towards left. "Hey.""Eleanor," his voice was firm, and edged with somethingI could call displease. "Where are you?"I swallowed. "I just texted you. Mike dropped us off. I—" I hesitated. "I meant to text you earlier, but it slipped my mind. I'm sorry."It must have been when Abby called me on our way home, I didn’t have the chance to inform him.There was a pause on the other end. Not that long, but enough to make my pulse beat fast."You should have," he finally said with his tone neutral. Disappointment was evident, so was irritation. But I didn’t
Chapter 39: Emerging AngerMy heart was in discord, thrumming with a mixture of uneasiness, and concern. I didn’t really had a choice when he spoke to me looking like that. He sounded impatient, and I definitely didn’t want to throw the good atmosphere in the living room so I stood up and followed, with hesitant movement.We walked upstairs, and went into the master bedroom. I was the one who shut the heavy wooden door behind me, and I felt the tension rightafter.If this was about me not telling him beforehand that we left with Mike, then I could apologize. But why did he look so bothered?“Damian, you weren’t answering my calls, so—”He turned to me with his jaw tauted and his gaze dark with something unreadable. That made me stop— and threatened.I held my breath.I was wrong. This wasn’t just because of that. There was something else and I feel that I could guess what it was.Elizabeth.“What happened this morning, Eleanor?” he finally asked, his voice now low but firm.I let out a
The apartment was quiet when I stepped inside. I closed the door behind me, took off my shoes, and coat, draping it over the chair by the door instead of hanging it up. I had to go to bed. It was late and I was tired, but my mind would not relax.I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water because I wanted to keep my hands occupied. The lights of the city shone outside the window, distant and static. I drank slowly and leaned against the counter.My phone was vibrating on the table.Mike.You alright?I exhaled rapidly and shook my head. I didn't know why I was surprised. He always listened. Even when I didn't want him to.Yes. You?He responded after a few seconds.You know me. Always okay.I stared at the screen. I could imagine him saying it, that small smile in his voice, the way he always evaded answering without technically lying.I didn't respond. I had no idea what to say.I put my phone on the counter, had another sip of water, and shut off the kitchen light.
After dinner, the gallery quieted down to a comfortable hush. The takeout containers from leftovers were on the desk, and Alicia was scrolling through her phone, most likely reading the emails she'd put off eating. Mike settled back into his chair, his eyes straying in my direction every so often but not speaking much.Abby had already caught on.She always caught on."You're working late again?" she asked, putting on her coat.I shrugged. "Might as well. Got some things to wrap up."She looked at me knowingly but didn't push. "Alright. Don't burn yourself out."Alicia yawned, stretching her arms above her head before standing. "I should get going, too. Text if you need anything.""Will do."One by one, they left, their goodbyes soft in the quiet space. The gallery always felt different at night—still, untouched, like it existed in its own pocket of time.Mike hadn’t left yet.He was still in his chair, watching me. Not in an expectant way, not like he was waiting for me to say someth
I didn't want to continue argue with him. I didn't want to stay standing here, gawking at him, judging for whatever he would say because we both knew I'll never be able to believe him. There was no point.So, I gave him a once-over, before I slowly trudged in. But just as I was supposed to walked away from him, I felt a hand on my wrist."Are you not going to ask what happened to me? Aren't you curious?""Why would I be?" I asked, jiggling my wrist for release. "You're dead to me."Those words will hunt him. He probably didn't expect I'd say those after all these years we hadn't seen each other, but I couldn't care less.I was able to took back my arm from him, and when I did, I continued walking and didn't look back. He didn't pursue me any longer either— which was better for the both of us.We were nothing beside strangers now, and a conversation wouldn't do us any good.I headed back to my gallery after that, where Mike and Alicia were waiting for me. They were at the main office,
I woke up to the gentle hum of the just city beyond my window, the sun's first light filtering through the drapes. It was a quiet morning, free of the weights of workloads. I stretched, breathed deeply, and reveled in the smell of fresh linens and paint in the air—a home aroma that I had missed.It had been weeks since Mike and I returned. The transition had been smoother than I had imagined. The city was the same, the streets still throbbed the same, but I was different. I was no longer the fractured woman who had leave to heal. I had healed. I had crossed seas, strolled through ruins, and walked beneath skies Elon never had the chance to wander. And in going through it all, I wrote in his journal. Each letter, each dip of my pen, connecting me to him. My travels became his, my memories akin to what could have been his if only he lived.And somehow, it was as though he was present with me in every break of dawn and every foreign street.Mike accompanied me during those times— for mor
What Mike had said stuck with me. I stewed over it for days and let the words occupy the vacant space I didn't realize existed.It was a peaceful morning. Sun streamed through the blinds of our tiny rental apartment in a city I enjoyed but would eventually abandon. That was when I made a choice and half-heartedly told Mike that it was time to head back home.I did not want to go, really. I had learned something special this year—something good and freeing. But it was not going to last. I knew that the entire time. Maybe, in a sense, the trip had already done what it was supposed to: heal me from all the pain and trauma.At some point, we couldn't keep doing this—traveling. And I knew that. So, we booked our tickets home, packed our bags, bought souvenirs.The city did not shift when we returned. That was the first thing I noticed, and perhaps the most strange. It was as if it had waited for us, as if nothing had been disturbed. People still walked the streets, the same coffee houses s
The next day, I really left.The first night out of the town was strange to me—like freedom and something I couldn't quite comprehend myself. We rode a plane that soared through the air in silence as we departed, and when we arrived, the air gave me a different feeling. It was thicker and foreign. It was as if I had entered someone's dream. It was as if I had entered Elon's.We didn't really have a plan. We had a list of places that Elon had written in. Cities he circled in travel guides, underlined in the newspaper, and spoke of as if he knew he'd never live to see. So, I wrote for him. I started writing in his journal—first, just scribbles. Dates. Places. How the sidewalk felt beneath my feet, how the ocean echoed in a city he never visited. Then it became more. I wrote to him, as if he could read my words, as if he could follow me in the pages. By taking his journal and making it mine, I hoped to allow him to travel through me.The months went by like that. The ink from my pen tra
Morning came slowly, and sunlight dragged through the windows as an afterthought. And then my head throbbed, but not like grief did. Too many drinks, too much laughter, and just too much life for the first time in what seemed like forever left a dull ache.My body weight felt different. So I guess it was just not like the air was settling into my mattress and destroying me with images of a life that never happened.And then he appeared—Mike.Jacket and boots were tossed over the couch. His chair across from me was crossed with arms and a head tilted back—he was asleep. Peaceful. Thinking of him in that way made me feel something weird in my chest that I had not felt in a while. Comfort. Safety.Sitting up too quickly made me feel sick—nausea turned my stomach. That motion probably got him awake because he cracked an eye open and smiled lazily."You look like hell.""Thanks." The sleep and dehydration made my voice rough. I swallowed, rubbing my eyes. "What time is it?""Little past te
The night air was cold against my skin on the porch as I wrapped my fingers around a pot of tea. Distant cars hummed, leaves rubbed against each other, and it was the silence I had grown accustomed to. The last few weeks, I had been locked in this state, crying in a house that was more mausoleum than home.Yet somehow, tonight felt different. Perhaps it was the pain of carrying so much suffering for so long, or maybe the silver moonlight bathing the street lit something I had gone blind to. Whatever the reason, the words flew off my lips before I could stop them."I can't do this again."That realization settled in my chest—heavy, liberating. But it never felt complete—yet. As if drawn by something unseen, I stood and walked inside slowly but deliberately. My feet carried me up the steps, through the hall, and to the attic door. I hesitated before pushing it open, the musty scent of old wood and forgotten things greeting me.My fingers searched against dusty shelves for something—anyt
"You really want to pick yourself up, Eleanor?"I stared at him, my fingers floppy around the edge of the blanket, my mind sluggish from days of barely moving, barely eating. The weight of his question sat between us. Did I? Did I want to be better, or was I just pretending because I was tired of seeing his disappointment? My lips parted, but I hesitated. And then, slowly, I nodded.Mike studied me, unreadable. He took a deep breath and leaned back slightly, his gaze moving toward the ceiling as if debating something. When he finally spoke, his words were unexpected."Run away with me. Leave this town."I saw him blink. I scoffed—a weak, breathy sound barely above a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, Mike."He didn't correct me. He just watched as I shook my head and brushed it away like it was nothing. Perhaps, to him, it wasn't nothing. But to me, it was absurd. Leaving the place that held every shattered piece of me was never an option. I could barely dream.This was my punishment. Stayi