Elena woke before the sun, the dull ache in her body making her curl tighter beneath the sheets. Nathan's arm lay draped across her waist—warm, heavy, claiming.
He shifted behind her, half-asleep, fingers brushing her hip like muscle memory.
"Morning, sweetheart…" he whispered into her hair, voice hoarse.
Her stomach knotted.
How could he sound so normal?
She kept her eyes closed.
"Morning."
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder—soft, innocent, completely disconnected from the night that had left her feeling hollow.
"Come here," he murmured, pulling her back against him casually, as if nothing about last night was different. As if nothing about her had fractured in the dark.
Why am I feeling this way?
She swallowed the tightness in her throat.
"I should get ready. I have class."
He hummed, unbothered.
"I'll drop you."
Just like that?
No apology.
No checking how she felt.
No acknowledgment of the pain she still felt when she moved.
Just… Nathan.
Confident. Warm. Normal. His usual, casual self.
Too normal. Too casual.
Am I the only one who feels the void?
Has something broken inside me?
—
In the car
He reached for her hand as he drove.
She gave it.
But she didn't get butterflies from it.
The gesture that used to make her warm, now feel... hollow.
Her body still ached.
Her mind still flickered between numb and panic.
But he made everything seem so ordinary that she wondered if:
Maybe this was how men were.
Maybe this was how intimacy worked. Maybe she was just inexperienced. Maybe she was supposed to feel this way.
He squeezed her fingers.
"You're quiet today."
"I'm just… tired."
Just tired?
"Understandable," he said, tone dipping into something she couldn't read.
Then he smiled — warm, heart-melting, familiar.
And her chest hurt.
When he pulled up near campus, he didn't lean in for a kiss.
He didn't try to hold her back.
He just brushed his knuckles down her arm.
"Text me," he said.
Her pulse fluttered.
"Yeah. I will."
She stepped out.
The second the car drove off, her breath faltered.
---
"Elena!"
Isla's voice rang across campus — bright, dramatic, familiar.
Elena forced a smile.
But the moment Isla got close, she stopped cold.
"Oh my God. El… what happened to you?"
Elena blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You look—different. Tired. Pale. And like you're trying way too hard to pretend you're fine."
"I'm fine. Just a long night."
Isla raised a brow.
"A long night with Nathan?"
Elena froze for half a second — enough for Isla to catch it.
"Elena," Isla said softly, voice shifting, "look at me."
Elena did.
Isla's expression changed immediately, concern sweeping over her face.
"You look shaken," Isla whispered. "Not embarrassed… not flustered… shaken."
Elena's throat tightened.
"I'm okay, Isla. Really." She said, trying to close the interrogation.
Please stop it Isla…
But Isla wouldn't budge so easily. She'd known her long enough to actually know her from inside out.
"No you're not." Isla replied not buying it.
Isla stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"You're trembling."
Elena looked down.
Her hands were shaking.
"I'm just… tired."
"No."
Isla's brows knitted.
"This is more. What happened?"
"Nothing."
Too quick.
Too practiced.
Isla didn't buy it either. And she wouldn't leave it be.
"El… did something happen with Nathan?"
Elena's heart stuttered.
"No! No, Isla. He was… he was sweet."
Sweet?
Isla's gaze dropped to how Elena stood—careful, guarded, shifting her weight as if something hurt.
"Elena," Isla whispered, "why are you standing like that?"
Elena swallowed. "You're imagining things now."
"No."
Isla's voice sharpened.
"I know you better than that."
Silence stretched between them.
"El," Isla said gently, "come here."
She pulled Elena into a soft hug. Protective, grounding, heartbreaking.
Elena didn't realize how stiff she'd been until she softened in Isla's arms.
"El," Isla murmured into her hair, "whatever happened… you don't have to tell me. But don't pretend you're fine when you're not."
Elena's eyes burned.
"I'm just confused."
"About him?" She asked softly.
"About… everything." Elena exhaled deply to calm her nerves down.
Isla pulled back enough to search her face.
"Elena… intimacy isn't supposed to feel like fear."
Elena's breath caught.
"I'm not scared," she whispered — more to herself than to Isla.
Isla didn't believe her.
"El, something feels wrong. And if you ever feel that — tell me. Or tell Adrian."
Elena stiffened.
No Isla I don't want to face him.
Not yet!
"I don't want him involved."
"Too late," Isla murmured. "He's worried sick. He left messages, lots of them. He even got me worried last night."
Elena's stomach twisted.
"I saw them."
"He said he's coming over. That you weren't home. That he was scared something happened. I tried to calm him down but he looked so distressed."
A crack split open inside Elena.
Elena tried to smile.
"It's… everything's fine."
Isla didn't argue.
But her eyes said everything.
"El," she whispered, "you're not yourself today."
Elena swallowed the lump in her throat.
"I will be," she whispered.
Will I ever be?
But it sounded like a promise she didn't believe in.
And Isla heard it.
Her voice softened to a whisper:
"El… whatever this is… I don't think it's good."
Elena looked away. Because hearing it hurt more than denying it.
Because the truth was:
She didn't feel good.
She didn't feel fine.
She didn't feel like herself.
She felt like someone trying too hard not to break apart.
And Isla saw it.
Clearly.
Painfully.
"I'm here," Isla said. "Whenever you're ready to talk."
Elena nodded, but her throat was too tight to answer.
For the first time since last night…
the word 'safe' felt far away.
Her phone buzzed.
Nathan:
> Hey baby, something came up at work. Flying to Boston tonight for meetings. Back in 3 days.
> I'll miss you.
Three days.
Something in her chest both tightened and loosened.
Relief?
Disappointment?
Overwhelmed?
She couldn't tell anymore.
She sighed and typed back.
> Safe travels!
> Tell me when you land?
The reply came immediately:
> Always. You're the first person I want to hear when I touch down.
She stared at the message.
Sweet.
Attentive.
Normal.
So why did her hands shake as she set the phone down?
"El?" Isla's voice pulled her back. "You okay?"
Elena blinked. "Yeah. Nathan's traveling for work. Few days."
Isla's expression shifted—something Elena couldn't read.
"Good," Isla said quietly.
"Good?"
Isla caught herself. "I just mean... maybe some space will help. Clear your head."
Elena wanted to argue.
But she didn't.
Because maybe Isla was right?
Maybe distance would make everything clearer.
She hoped it would make things easier for her to… understand.
Maybe when he came back, things would feel different.
Better.
Normal again.
"Yeah," Elena whispered. "Maybe."
—---
The house felt too quiet.
Nick was still in Scotland.
Her parents still weeks away.
No Nathan dropping by unannounced.
Just her.
And the silence.
But silence comforted her somehow.
Elena dropped her bag by the door and stood in the hallway, unsure what to do with herself.
The ache between her legs had dulled to a distant throb.
Manageable.
Forgettable.
Almost.
She moved to the bathroom.
Ran the shower.
Stood under scalding water until her skin turned pink.
Scrubbed.
Rinsed.
Repeated.
But she still felt... marked.
Not dirty, exactly.
Just... changed.
Like something inside her had shifted off-axis and she couldn't figure out how to realign it.
What do I feel now?
She wrapped herself in a towel and caught her reflection.
The girl staring back looked tired.
Pale.
Fragile.
Not the Elena from three weeks ago.
That girl had been nervous but hopeful.
Careful but curious.
This girl...
This girl looked like she was trying very hard not to fall apart.
"Stop," she whispered to her reflection.
"You're fine."
But her voice cracked.
And the girl in the mirror didn't look convinced.
Am I fine?
Her mind was silent, disconnected.
She pulled on soft clothes—oversized sweater, loose shorts, thick socks.
Armor made of comfort.
Her phone buzzed.
Nathan.
> Landed safely. Miss you already. Can't wait to see you when I'm back.
Her chest squeezed.
> Miss you too, she typed.
Then stared at the words.
Did she miss him?
Or did she miss the version of him from before last night?
The one who made her feel wanted, not used.
Chosen, not claimed.
Safe, not scared.
' You are brave
You take things heads-on. Even when they scare you. Even when they're hard. Don't loose that quality of yours, even when the times are dark.'
His words hazed her mind again.
She hit send before she could overthink it.
Another buzz.
Adrian.
> Leena, please call me. I'm worried. Haven't heard from you since the office. Just want to know you're okay.*
Guilt twisted in her stomach.
She couldn't talk to Adrian.
Not now.
Not about this.
He'd been right about the file?
About the patterns?
About… Nathan?
And she'd screamed at him.
Defended Nathan.
Chosen Nathan.
How could she tell him that maybe… just maybe… he'd been right all along?
She couldn't.
So she didn't reply.
Instead Elena curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket over herself.
Three days without Nathan.
Three days to breathe.
To think.
To figure out why everything felt wrong even though he'd done everything "right."
He'd been gentle afterward.
Texted constantly.
Called her sweetheart.
Told her she was perfect.
So why do I feel broken?
Her eyes burned.
She closed them.
Told herself sleep would help.
That when she woke up, everything would make sense again somehow.
But even as exhaustion dragged her under...
A small voice whispered:
What if it doesn't?
What if three days isn't enough to make this feel okay?
What if nothing will ever feel okay again?