The Stillness Before The Storm

Elena Rivers

For the first time in months, she breathed without flinching.

The apartment smelled like jasmine and fresh coffee. Christopher had left early for a meeting, but not before pressing a kiss to her forehead and whispering, "You're not alone anymore, Elena."

She wanted to believe it.

She almost did.

She touched her stomach, fingertips grazing the soft fabric of her sweater. It still didn't feel real. The life growing inside her. The consequence of a night she'd tried to erase.

But Christopher had looked at her like she wasn't ruined. He hadn't judged. He hadn't questioned. He'd simply stayed.

She smiled faintly, curling up on the couch with a book she wasn't really reading.

The city outside was alive. People moved. Cars honked. Laughter floated up from the street.

Everything was moving forward.

But inside her… something lingered.

A tightness at the base of her spine. A whisper that didn't come from her thoughts. A sensation that made her glance at the window even though she'd already closed the curtains.

It was irrational.

She knew Damien wasn't here. He hadn't reached out. No more texts. No more shadows. She'd disappeared from him. She'd rewritten her life.

And yet…

The silence was too perfect.

She looked around the apartment. Nothing was out of place. But her skin prickled like she was being watched—like eyes were brushing her neck, just beyond the veil of logic.

She shook her head.

It's just fear, she told herself. Ghosts don't bleed. They don't crawl through your skin.

But still, her fingers locked the door again.

And her heartbeat—once steady—started to count backwards.

As if bracing for something she couldn't see.

Not yet.

But she felt it.

The storm hadn't passed.

It was only circling closer.

----