The morning sun broke through the curtains, but Elena barely noticed. She sat on the edge of her bed, fingers trembling as she unfolded the note once more. "Soon." The word echoed in her mind like a dark promise.
Her phone buzzed, but she ignored it. No one she wanted to hear from. Not Liam, whose messages lately felt like chains tightening around her, nor Luca, whose silence screamed louder than words.
The day dragged on like a storm cloud ready to burst. Every shadow seemed to stretch a little longer, every passerby's glance a little sharper. She felt eyes on her again—watching, waiting.
That afternoon, Liam showed up at her doorstep unannounced.
"Elena," he said, voice low, eyes glinting with something she couldn't quite place. "We need to talk."
She hesitated. Part of her wanted to slam the door and run, but another part—maybe the lonely part that had missed kindness—held her back.
"Fine," she said, stepping aside.
He entered, the air between them thick with tension. He didn't sit. Instead, he paced like a predator stalking prey.
"I'm trying to help you," he said, voice rough. "You don't see it, but I'm the only one who really cares."
Her heart pounded. "Care doesn't mean control."
He stopped, his gaze burning into hers. "You don't get to choose who protects you."
Elena's breath hitched. "I don't want your protection."
He laughed, but it wasn't joyful. It was bitter. "You don't get to want, Elena. Not anymore."
The sound sent a chill down her spine.
Outside, the wind rattled the windowpane. For a moment, the room felt colder—as if someone else was watching from the shadows, waiting.
She didn't need to look to know he was there.
--
That night, Elena sat by her window, clutching the notes Luca left like fragile lifelines. The city hummed beneath her—a chaotic symphony she barely heard anymore.
She didn't know what tomorrow would bring. Only that whatever it was, she wouldn't be ready.
But she would be waiting.
For him.
---