Ellen's Point of View
Sundays in my house are usually silent and somewhat peaceful. Just the kind of silence that
presses into your lungs and tells you to behave.
But today, the silence is dangerous.
Because silence gives me space to think and act irrationally.
To break free.
I find myself more worried that I did not get a response from my spontaneous offer to professor
Martinelli, than the bizarre marriage betrothal to Paulo De Lauca.
And he still hasn't replied.
I check my phone again.
No reply or even a seen receipt.
My throat tightens. Every part of me feels like I am drowning inside by decisions, by fear, by the
idea of being owned by Paulo.
I need… someone.
Before my thoughts can talk me out of it, I grab my wallet and leave the house to hail a cab. I
don't bother with makeup or my hair which is still damp from my rushed shower.
The drive to Marlon's condo is a blur.
My body shakes the whole time, but I don't beg the driver to make a back turn. If I call Marlon,
I'll lose the courage and end up back in that house and get trapped between obedience and
suffocation again.
When I reach the tall glass building, I feel light-headed.
I exhale, walk into the elevator, and knock on his penthouse door.
Nothing.
I wait.
I knock again.
Still nothing.
I take a step back, ready to run to the elevator and pretend I was never here and just then, the
door swings open.
A half-naked, sweaty, disheveled Marlon stands there, hair a mess, chest rising and falling like
he ran a marathon to the door.
He freezes.
I freeze.
"
…Ellen?"
I blink.
Oh.
Oh. My. God.
I came during sex.
"I—I shouldn't have come,
" I blurt and spin toward the hallway.
His hand shoots out, gently tugging my wrist.
"No. Stop. Come here.
" His voice is serious now although it comes out in pants.
"Hey, look at
me.
"
"I didn't mean to interrupt anything—
"
"You could interrupt my wedding and I'd still come to you.
"
He disappears back inside for a second, and I hear low whispering followed by kisses and a
muffled apology.
Then a door closes.
Seconds later, he steps out, fully dressed… well, almost.
His shoes don't match.
His left shoe is a black Chelsea boot.
The right is a bright white sneaker.
I blink, stare at the mismatch, and then stare at him.
He notices my look and scoffs.
"Don't laugh. I didn't have time to match emotions or footwear.
"
The absurdity pulls a shaky smile from me.
He grabs his keys and my hand.
"Let's go.
"
Inside his car, which is his brand new glossy black coupe, the leather still smells untouched.
I glance around, overwhelmed.
"You didn't even get to show me when your dad gifted you this,
" I whisper thoughtlessly.
He raises a brow as he starts the engine.
"You mean you were too busy crashing into chaos and avoiding your friends?"
I wince.
"I know. I've been a terrible friend.
"
He finally looks at me properly.
"Hey.
" His voice softens.
"I don't need a perfect version of you. Just being here is more than
enough.
"
And just like that, the knot in my chest loosens.
We stay parked in the driveway without the intention of moving at all, silent except for the engine
hum.
Then he turns to me.
"What happened?"
I stare ahead blankly.
"My father is marrying me off.
"
He goes still.
Completely still.
The boy who always has something sarcastic to say is speechless.
And once I start talking, I can't stop.
I tell him about Clara.
About the nights I feel watched.
About the envelope that changed everything.
About waking up in the hospital after almost dying.
I leave out professor Martinelli for some reason and I don't know why.
Maybe because that part feels personal in a way I can't understand yet.
When I finish, my voice cracks.
"I don't know what to do anymore.
"
Marlon pulls me into his chest.
His shirt smells like laundry and aftershave.
"You're not alone,
" he murmurs into my hair.
"Stop carrying battles like you're built for them.
"
My heart breaks open, and suddenly I'm sobbing. Ugly, messy sobs. The kind of crying that
comes from losing everything you knew.
He holds me and doesn't let go. And after what seems like hours, he speaks up.
"You feel better?" he asks gently when I pull away.
"No.
"
He nods.
"Then let's fix that.
"
He taps the steering wheel twice.
"Seat belt. Therapy starts now.
"
Before I can ask what that means, he drives out of the lot, fast enough to make me gasp. He
opens the car roof, letting the cold evening air rush in.
The city blurs around us.
"Arms up,
" he commands dramatically.
"What?"
"Arms. Up.
"
I roll my eyes but obey.
He floors the car.
Wind whips through my hair and without thinking through it, I scream into the open sky letting
the wind whisk my voice away.
Marlon laughs, eyes shining.
"But you know Sophia will kill you for coming to me first, right?"
"She'd kill both of us.
"
"And probably hide our bodies where no one would find them.
"
We laugh.
It feels unreal.
Light.
Freeing.
My phone rings.
Sophia.
Marlon glances at the screen and nearly swerves.
"Speak of the devil. Shit, we're dead.
"
I put the phone on silent, biting back a smile.
"Remind me again,
" he says as he takes a sharp, unnecessary turn that throws me back into the
seat,
"why did you come to me first and not your attack dog?"
"I love that girl, but if I told Sophia everything right now, there would be blood everywhere.
"
He barks a laugh.
"Fair point.
"
The road stretches in front of us, endless and golden with streetlights. The world feels lighter.
My chest feels lighter.
For a moment, I remember what happiness felt like.
A year ago, it used to be like this. Weekends with Sophia, Marlon, and…
Antonio.
The name lands like a soft ache.
Antonio.
Marlon's best friend.
My ex.
We were inseparable. Until we weren't.
I let the memory fall away.
Then Marlon's phone vibrates.
He glances at the caller ID.
His eyes widen.
Antonio.
I freeze, suddenly breathless.
He looks at me for permission.
My voice is barely a whisper.
"Answer it.
"
He eyes me skeptically, wondering if he heard me correctly. I nod in response and he mutters a
quick apology and accepts the call.
"Hey man—
"
And as his voice fades into the background, my pulse thunders. I automatically tune out their
conversation and at times like that, I am grateful for the ability to tune out things completely.