chapter 46

Elena stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, the silence pressing down like a weight on her chest. Her fingers curled instinctively over the small swell of her stomach—still barely there, but undeniable now.

Ten weeks.

She knew the number, even though she hadn't said it aloud.

Not to anyone.

Not even to herself.

The test was hidden in the drawer.

The nausea came and went.

But the loneliness never left.

---

At school, her footsteps echoed in the hallway as she walked alone. She kept her hoodie pulled low, her arms wrapped around herself. The whispering had started again—not from classmates, but from the wind, the quiet... the corners.

She felt it. Every day.

Eyes on her back. A shadow in her reflection.

The ghost of someone who used to be real.

---

After class, Liam was waiting. Again.

"Elena," he said, leaning casually against the wall, his voice softer now. "You've been quiet."

She didn't stop walking.

He caught up easily. "You're still mad at me?"

"I'm tired, Liam."

He chuckled under his breath. "You used to let me help."

"You're not helping."

That stopped him. His smile faltered.

"I saw the way you were holding your stomach yesterday," he said quietly. "You sick or… something else?"

Her blood turned cold.

She kept walking, but faster now. "Don't."

"You think no one notices," he said, catching up again. "But I do. I always notice."

She rounded on him, eyes blazing. "I don't need you watching me."

He smiled—something that didn't reach his eyes. "Well, someone has to. Since he disappeared."

Her breath caught.

"I don't know what he told you," Liam added, "but guys like that? They don't love. They use. And they leave."

He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "But I'm still here. I'd never leave you."

She took a shaky breath. "You don't get to talk about him."

"Why?" he whispered. "Because you're still hoping he'll come back?"

He leaned in then, voice like venom. "He's gone. You're his leftover mess. And I'm the one who has to clean it up."

She slapped him.

Not hard, but enough to shock them both.

His face stayed still for a second too long… then slowly, a smirk slid into place.

"Maybe I hit a nerve," he said calmly. "Or maybe you're just hormonal."

Her eyes widened.

He just smiled and turned away.

---

Back home, she locked the door and leaned against it, chest heaving.

She couldn't breathe.

The walls felt too tight. The air too heavy.

And then—

The sound.

A quiet thud outside her window.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

She crept toward the curtain and slowly pulled it aside.

Nothing.

But on her porch, beneath the golden glow of the porch light, was a small white box.

Wrapped in ribbon.

She hesitated, then opened the front door just enough to grab it and shut it again, heart pounding in her throat.

Inside the box—

Prenatal vitamins.

A sealed envelope with cash.

And a note:

> "You're not alone. Stay strong."

No name. No signature. No trace.

But her hands trembled anyway.

Because she knew.

Even in his silence, Luca was still watching.

Still protecting.

Still hers.

---