“When was the last time you actually rested, Elena?”
I frowned, trying to remember. My mind came up blank.
Jessica let out a quiet scoff. “There. That’s your answer.”
Her voice softened. “Maybe you don’t need answers right now. Or big decisions.”
She met my gaze steadily. “Maybe you just need rest. Not to run away... but to stop for a moment.”
I stared at the ice in my glass until it melted completely.
Rest.
The word sounded simple. But it felt like something I hadn’t allowed myself in a very long time.
CHAPTER 26
Adrian
I stayed at the office long after everyone else had left.
Not because the work demanded it, most of it didn’t. The reports could wait. The emails could be answered tomorrow. But the building was quiet, and quiet felt easier than home, easier than walking into a house where I’d spent the last two days pretending distance was something I could control.
By the time I shut my laptop, it was past ten.
I drove home slowly. Too slowly.
When I pulled into the driveway, I didn’t turn off the engine right away, the headlights cutting across the garage door, bright and unforgiving, as I stayed there with my hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.
Two days. That was how long I’d been avoiding her, not yelling, not fighting, just… stepping out of the room before words could turn into damage. Sleeping in the guest room. Coming home late.
I told myself it was restraint. The truth was simpler.
I was scared.
Scared that if I stayed too close, I’d keep gripping her out of fear. Scared that if I loosened my hold, she’d finally slip away.
I turned off the engine and stepped inside.
The house was quiet. Too quiet. No TV. No light spilling from the living room as I kicked off my shoes and moved through the hallway, keeping my steps controlled and deliberate.
The plan was simple. Grab clothes from the bedroom, take them to the guest room, and sleep there, keep the space, keep the distance.
I pushed the bedroom door open and saw Elena sitting on the bed, not lying down, not scrolling on her phone, just sitting there with her back straight, her hands resting loosely in her lap, the lamp on her side casting a soft light over her face as if she had been waiting.
Something tightened in my chest as our eyes met, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.
For a second, I considered backing out, pretending I hadn’t seen her, but I didn’t. I stepped inside anyway, my movements steady and unreadable, as if I hadn’t just been caught in the one place I’d been trying to avoid.
I walked toward the closet, her gaze heavy and quiet on my back, and reached for a T-shirt, then a pair of sweatpants, folding them with unnecessary precision before grabbing a clean work shirt for the morning. I told myself to keep it simple. In and out. No conversation.
Behind me, the mattress shifted.
Then I heard her stand. Her footsteps were soft but deliberate, closing the distance until I felt her presence just behind my shoulder.
“I need to talk.”
The words hit harder than any accusation ever could.
