The path leading to the lake was lined with tall, swaying pines. Birds chirped overhead, and the early sun danced across the water, casting glittering ripples over the serene surface. The air was crisp and clean, filled with the kind of silence that didn't feel heavy—it felt safe.
Ella walked beside Nicholas, her hands tucked into the sleeves of the oversized sweater she'd borrowed from his closet. His steps were easy, unhurried, occasionally glancing her way to check if she was still okay.
At first, it felt like a dream.
She hadn't breathed like this in months. The gentle breeze, the scent of pine, the stillness—it should have felt like heaven.
But it didn't.
Halfway down the path, her chest started to tighten.
She paused, hands trembling slightly.
Nicholas turned to her immediately. "You okay?"
"I just…" Her voice faltered. "I need to go back."
His brows furrowed. "Back where?"
"Home," she said, swallowing hard. "To the city. I can't stay here."
"Ella." He moved closer. "Why? You said you were feeling safe here."
"I do," she whispered. "That's the problem."
Nicholas didn't speak right away. He just waited.
"I can't… I can't do this," she muttered, backing up a step. "I can't enjoy this place or you or anything when I don't even know if my mom's still—" Her voice cracked, and she suddenly doubled over, hugging her stomach like she was trying to keep herself from falling apart. "I left her. Oh God—I left her."
Nicholas reached for her instinctively, but she shook her head and pressed her fists to her temples.
"I was so out of it—I didn't even think—I haven't paid her hospital bill—I haven't checked on her in days—"
"Ella," Nicholas said quietly, reaching for her shoulders this time and gently holding her still. "Hey, hey—look at me."
Tears streamed down her cheeks now, and when she finally lifted her gaze to his, they held sheer panic.
"She's all I have," she choked. "She's in that place hooked to machines and I don't even know if she's okay. I was too busy getting beat to a pulp and then hiding in your cabin to even—"
"Ella," he said again, more firmly this time, "breathe."
She sucked in a ragged breath and then another, but it didn't help. The guilt was like a weight pressing into her chest.
"I should've told you," she whispered. "I should've—God, I thought I had more time."
Nicholas didn't say anything for a second. He just watched her, then reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone.
"I've already had someone check in on her."
Ella blinked. "What?"
"I called in a favor the morning after I brought you here. She's stable. Still in her room. Monitors all showing normal. The hospital didn't report any problems." His voice was calm, solid. "And I had my guy settle the outstanding bills."
Her lips parted, but nothing came out.
"She's taken care of," Nicholas said softly. "I didn't want to overwhelm you yesterday."
Her knees buckled slightly, but he caught her before she could fall.
"You didn't have to do that," she whispered.
"I know," he murmured, pulling her into his chest. "But I wanted to."
She collapsed against him, sobbing silently into his shirt, her body shaking with the release of every emotion she'd been suppressing since the nightmare began. His arms tightened around her like a wall shielding her from everything outside.
They stood there for a long time, surrounded by nothing but the wind and the quiet lapping of the lake against the shore.
"I feel so guilty," she finally said. "I was starting to feel okay, and I forgot. How could I forget?"
"Because you're human," he said into her hair. "Because you've been through hell. And even in hell, sometimes your body finds a second to breathe. That doesn't make you a bad person, Ella. That makes you alive."
She held onto him tighter, something raw breaking open inside her.
"Thank you," she said, voice barely audible. "For doing that. For her."
Nicholas slowly pulled back just enough to look at her. He reached up and brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumb.
"You love her," he said simply. "And when you love someone, you don't just walk away."
His words struck something deep inside her.
It wasn't just that he'd paid the bills. It was the way he said it—like it was obvious, like it wasn't a chore or some charity project. He understood. He saw her. All of her.
"You're not what I expected," she whispered.
He smiled faintly. "You're not what I expected either."
She let out a breath, part laugh, part sob.
"I still want to see her," she said. "I need to."
"And you will," he promised. "I'll take you to her whenever you're ready. But not to the same place. I'm having her moved to a private facility. Better care. More protection. Somewhere you won't have to fight the world just to hold her hand."
Ella stared at him, stunned.
"You don't stop," she whispered.
He tilted his head. "From what?"
"Being…" Her throat tightened. "Being this person."
His expression softened. "Maybe I don't want to."
A few more seconds passed in silence. Then, gently, he reached for her hand and led her down toward the lake's edge.
The water sparkled as birds skimmed its surface. Nicholas didn't say anything more, just stood beside her, their hands still joined.
She squeezed his fingers once.
For the first time in years, she didn't feel like she was drowning.