"Maya?"
Emma's voice sounds like it's coming through water. The aisle tilts, vision narrowing to a pinhole. I grab the shelf to keep from falling, my fingers digging into the metal until it hurts.
People are staring. A woman with a toddler gives me a wide berth. Someone asks if I'm okay, but I can't answer because there's no air, there's nothing but the memory of hands and the smell of that closet and the feeling of being trapped?—
"Maya, hey." Emma's in front of me now, Ethan secured in the cart, both of them staring. "What's wrong? Talk to me."
I force air into my lungs, but it feels like breathing through a straw.One breath. Two.The man who triggered it is already gone, oblivious to what he's done.
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"You're not fine, you look like you're about to pass out." She studies my face, concern deepening the lines around her mouth. Her hand hovers near my arm but doesn't touch. "What just happened?"
"Just tired," I manage, though my voice shakes. "Didn't sleep great."
She doesn't look convinced, and I can see her trying to piece together what she just witnessed: the way I froze, the panic in my eyes, how I'm still gripping the shelf like it's the only thing keeping me upright.
"Why don't you grab us some coffee from the shop in the front?" she says carefully. "I'll finish up here, it's just a few more things."
It's an out. I take it gratefully. "Sure. What do you want?"
"Decaf latte. Pregnancy is bullshit."
I leave her with the cart and make my way to the front of the store, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. My legs feel weak, unsteady. The line for coffee is five people deep. I stand at the back and count my breaths.In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.
It's a technique my old therapist taught me, one of the few things that actually helps when the panic hits.
By the time I order our drinks, my hands have mostlystopped shaking. The barista gives me a concerned look when I fumble with my wallet, but doesn't comment.
I find Emma in the checkout line, Ethan happily clutching a box of animal crackers she's clearly bribed him with. She glances at me, assessing, but just takes her coffee with a quiet "thank you."
We load the groceries in silence. Ethan chatters about his crackers from his car seat. Emma starts the engine and pulls out of the parking spot.
She glances over at me. "Thanks for coming. I know shopping isn't exactly thrilling, but I appreciate the help."
"Anytime."
She drives in silence for a few seconds before asking, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, I promise."
Emma doesn't push, but the silence that follows says she doesn't believe me.
"Liar," she mutters finally, almost under her breath.
Back at the house, we unload groceries while Ethan"helps"by pulling things out of bags and putting them in random places. Emma's laughing at him trying to fit a watermelon in the cabinet when a black cat appears from nowhere.
"Max!" Emma scoops him up. "Where have you been hiding?"
Max purrs, low and steady. Then he sees me and practically launches himself out of Emma's arms, meowing insistently.
"Whoa!" She laughs as Max winds around my legs. "Someone's happy to see you."
I crouch down, and he immediately headbutts my hand, demanding attention. His fur is soft, and the purring gets louder when I scratch behind his ears. He's gotten bigger since I last saw him. Chase has had him for four years now.
"He's such a traitor," Emma says, watching Max climb into my lap like we're old friends. "Chase is going to be so offended."
"Maybe he just prefers us girls."
