It had been almost a week since everything happened, and I still didn't feel safe around Elena. Even when she wasn't home, the apartment never felt empty.

  I could almost feel her presence behind me—watching, waiting, like she was just out of sight, ready to catch me the moment I messed up.

  I y on the couch and pulled the bnket higher, cocooning myself as I scrolled mindlessly through my phone. Video after video blurred together, none of it really sinking in. I just needed the noise—something to drown out my thoughts.

  A yawn slipped out of me, heavy and exhausted. I checked the time without really thinking.

  Thirty minutes.

  My stomach dropped.

  Thirty minutes until she got home—and I hadn't cooked anything.

  Panic prickled at the back of my neck. My eyes darted toward the kitchen, then back to the screen, my heart starting to race as if I'd already done something wrong. I tried to picture myself standing up, pulling ingredients out, turning on the stove—but my body felt glued in pce, heavy and slow.

  "Whatever," I muttered quietly, my voice barely more than a breath. "She can have fast food."

  I opened DoorDash with shaking fingers and ordered two chicken sandwiches—her usual. Extra pickles. I made sure it was right. I didn't even add anything for myself. The thought of eating made my stomach twist uncomfortably.

  I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling, listening to the faint hum of the apartment. I'd just have water. Water was safe. Water didn't require effort. It didn't take up space.

  As the confirmation screen glowed softly beside me, all I could think about was the clock ticking down—and whether this would be enough to keep the peace tonight.

  I rubbed my face slowly, my fingers lingering a little too long, as if the motion alone could erase the memory of yesterday. The sting of the sps still felt fresh—not on my skin, but somewhere deeper, like my body hadn't gotten the message that it was over.

  All because I went outside without her permission.

  Her words repyed in my head, relentless, familiar. You'll learn soon.

  She always said it the same way—calm, certain, like she was talking about the weather. I didn't even know what it was supposed to mean anymore, and somehow that made it worse.

  I let my hand fall to my chest and stared up at the living room ceiling, tracing the faint cracks and shadows with my eyes.

  "Whatever," I muttered hoarsely. "Hopefully she just kills me so I can be at peace..."

  The words slipped out without much feeling behind them. Not dramatic. Not desperate. Just tired. So unbearably tired.

  My eyelids grew heavy as I y there, and I closed them, letting myself drift somewhere safer. I pictured a version of my life that didn't hurt—sunlight, warmth, quiet ughter. I imagined the Elena I used to know, the one who smiled softly, who held me without hurting me, who made me feel wanted instead of owned.

  Paradise, in my own small way.

  The image blurred at the edges as sleep finally cimed me, pulling me under before the fear could return. For a little while, at least, my body went sck and my mind went quiet.

  And for the first time that day, I didn't have to be afraid—

  because I wasn't awake to feel it.

  -

  The sound of the door opening—and then smming shut—jerked me awake instantly. My heart leapt into my throat as I sat up, every muscle tensing on instinct. I turned my head just in time to see Elena standing there.

  She looked... content.

  Not smiling. Not angry. Just calm, settled, like everything was exactly as it should be.

  Relief washed over me in a thin, shaky wave. This was good. This was a good start.

  I pushed myself up quickly and walked over to her, wrapping my arms around her in a careful hug. She'd made it clear—very clear—that I was supposed to greet her at the door every time she came home. I wasn't in the mood to test her patience.

  "I see you ordered out today..." she said, her tone casual as she set the bag of food on the table we always ate at. She gnced up at me. "Any reason for that?"

  My mouth went dry.

  She sat down, already reaching into the bag, while I drifted toward the kitchen like I needed something to do with my hands. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, the pstic crinkling loudly in the quiet apartment.

  Think. Say something normal.

  I repyed the afternoon in my head, searching for an excuse that wouldn't sound wrong. I had groceries. I had time. I had no real reason.

  "Oh—well," I said finally, forcing a small, uncertain smile as I walked back toward her. "I just thought maybe you'd like something different tonight. You know, not home-cooked." I gave a weak little ugh. "Yeah..."

  She was already eating, unbothered. She nodded once, popped a fry into her mouth, and didn't say anything else.

  I stood there with my water bottle, watching her chew, waiting—always waiting—for some sign that I'd said the wrong thing.

  "I understand," Elena said evenly, wiping her fingers on a napkin. "Though I prefer your cooking. So I'd want you to cook."

  To anyone else it might've sounded harmless. To me, it nded like a warning—clear and unmistakable. Don't do this again. Not without asking. Not without me knowing. I nodded to myself, already adjusting, already pnning how often I'd need to cook from now on just to keep things smooth.

  "I see... I'm sorry, Elena," I said softly, lowering myself into the chair beside her. My shoulders stayed tense, like I was bracing for impact even while sitting still.

  She chewed in silence for a moment, then looked at me again.

  "Give me your phone."

  My heart lurched.

  My eyes widened before I could stop them. I'd been messaging my aunt from Mexico tely—Victoria. Nothing bad, nothing secret, just checking in, hearing a familiar voice from a pce that still felt like home. What was she going to think?

  "Oh god," I thought, my pulse roaring in my ears.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and handed it over. My fingers were shaking so badly I almost dropped it into her palm. She unlocked it without hesitation and started scrolling, her face unreadable.

  The room felt too quiet.

  I felt a bead of sweat slide down my temple.

  Then her hand stilled.

  Her fingers curled slowly into a fist on the table, knuckles whitening as the wood creaked softly under the pressure. My stomach dropped.

  "Who's Victoria, darling?" she asked, her voice calm in that way that made my skin prickle.

  I swallowed hard. "My aunt—from Mexico," I said quickly. "You know her. I've told you about her."

  She stared at the screen for a long second, then bit her lip, thoughtful, serious. I couldn't tell what she was thinking. I couldn't tell if I'd already messed up or if I was about to.

  I sat there frozen, waiting for the verdict, my heart pounding as I wondered—again—how something so small could suddenly feel so dangerous.

  She set my phone down on the table and went back to eating like nothing had happened.

  I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. My phone sat there between us, untouched. I didn't dare reach for it. I just lifted my water bottle and took slow, careful sips, staring at the condensation as if it were the most interesting thing in the room—anything to keep my mind from racing.

  The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

  "Go to our bedroom," she said at st, her tone ft and final. "And get undressed. I'll be there in a few."

  The words nded like a sentence.

  I nodded immediately, pushing my chair back and standing before she could repeat herself. My legs felt unsteady as I walked down the short hallway, each step heavier than the st. The apartment felt smaller somehow, the walls closing in as I reached the bedroom.

  I stood there for a moment, staring at the bed, my chest tight. My hands shook as I did what she asked, movements slow and automatic, like my body was acting on instructions my mind didn't want to process.

  When I was done, I sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

  The seconds dragged. Every sound outside the room—the faint rustle of the food bag, the clink of her drink—made my heart jump. I stared at the floor, breathing shallowly, trying not to think about what was coming.

  "Please..." I whispered into the empty room, my voice barely audible. "Please don't be so rough today..."

  The silence didn't answer back.

  And all I could do was wait.

  ——

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