Chapter 007

Elena didn't sleep well. The weight of the therapist's letter—now tucked neatly between blank pages in her journal—lingered like an unwanted guest in her chest. Her dreams had blurred into something strange and unsettling: half real, half imagined. Waking up didn't make it better. If anything, it was worse. The morning felt like it was dipped in something heavy.

At work, the lights felt too bright, the open office too loud. She kept zoning out—once while typing a report, and again while staring at the clock, trying to remember what day it was.

Around noon, Claudia sent her a Slack message:

"Hey Elena, can you step into my office when you get a moment?"

That sinking feeling returned, pooling in her stomach. She knew that tone.

She stood, forced a steady breath, and walked the slow stretch to her boss's glass-walled office. Claudia motioned for her to sit, offering a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Elena, you've been one of the most consistent people on the team. That's why I wanted to check in. I've noticed something's… off lately."

Elena sat still, spine straight, hands resting on her lap. She nodded slowly, trying not to show anything on her face.

"You've missed a few internal deadlines. You seem… distracted. I know life happens—and I'm not judging. But maybe it's worth considering a few mental health days? Or if you'd prefer, HR can recommend someone to talk to. No pressure, of course."

Elena nodded again, but her throat burned with shame.

"Thanks, Claudia. I'll think about it."

Claudia smiled again, this time softer. "I'm here if you need to talk. No judgment, really."

Elena managed a polite exit, her heels clicking softly on the floor as she made her way to the restroom. She didn't even care if someone saw—she locked the stall door and let her head fall into her hands.

She didn't cry loudly. She didn't sob or fall apart.

It was worse.

She just sat there, blank, as one tear fell down her cheek. And then another. Silent. As if her body was grieving for something she didn't have the words for yet.

Later that evening, when she walked into the house, the smell of garlic and basil caught her off guard.

Nathan stood in the kitchen, grinning.

"I thought I'd beat you to dinner tonight. Made a reservation at Matteo's—your favorite."

She blinked. "What's the occasion?"

He shrugged, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "No occasion. I just… miss you."

That simple sentence made her chest ache in a strange, uncomfortable way.

At the restaurant, Nathan reached for her hand across the table. His eyes held a gentleness she wasn't sure she deserved. "You've seemed somewhere else lately. Not just tired—distant. Are we okay?"

Elena looked at him and wanted to say yes. Wanted to reach across the void and mean it.

But something cracked inside her.

"I don't know," she said quietly.

And then it happened.

He asked her to pass the water, and in her dazed, unfocused state, she murmured without thinking, "Here you go, Daniel."

The moment stretched.

She froze.

Nathan stilled, his hand half-reaching for the pitcher.

The silence was deafening.

His voice, when it finally came, was calm—but too calm. "What did you just call me?"

Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear herself. "I—" she started, but the words were lost. "I didn't mean to. It just slipped."

Nathan leaned back, eyes shadowed now with something unreadable. He nodded slowly, but it wasn't in agreement. It was understanding—the kind that comes when a wall you thought was strong starts to crumble right in front of you.

Neither of them said much for the rest of the meal.

Back home, the air was thick. Nathan retreated to the bedroom under the guise of answering emails. Elena sat on the couch, staring at nothing, her fingers tracing patterns on the coffee table.

Then a soft thud broke the stillness.

It came from the front door.

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

She stood slowly and opened it—nothing again. No one standing there. But there it was. Another envelope.

Her hands trembled as she picked it up.

This one had no markings. Just a single note inside. The handwriting was painfully familiar—loopy, slightly rushed, slanted like his voice when he whispered in her ear years ago.

"Saw you the other day. You looked beautiful in blue. You always did look best in that color. Haven't changed a bit."

— D.

Elena's breath hitched. Her pulse roared in her ears.

No. No, no, no.

She had moved cities to escape him. Changed her number. She hadn't seen Daniel since that final night when she left his apartment bruised emotionally, shattered mentally.

How could he know where she lived?

She glanced around the street, half-expecting to see him watching from a car or behind a tree.

But everything was still.

Still, and yet nothing felt safe.

Was this a mind game? Or had he really followed her here?

Her hands trembled harder now. She stumbled backward and slammed the door shut, locking it, then double-checking the windows.

Suddenly the dreams didn't feel so distant. The weight she'd been carrying wasn't just in her mind anymore. It was here. Outside her door. In her mailbox. Watching.

Everything she'd feared might happen had started to spill into real life.

Or was it just her mind… unraveling?

For the first time, she couldn't tell the difference.

She sank onto the floor, clutching the letter, her mind spinning. And in that moment, something gave way.

You're losing your mind, a voice whispered inside her.

But another voice spoke up too—quiet, unfamiliar, but oddly steady:

Or maybe it's time to stop pretending you can handle this alone.

She got up, walked to get her journal where she had hidden the therapist's letter, and pulled it out with slow fingers. This time, she didn't just stare at it.

She read every line.

Then she opened her phone and typed the number written at the bottom.

Her thumb hovered over the call button.

She didn't hit it yet—but she saved it.

That alone felt like a kind of surrender.

Or maybe… the beginning of a fight back.