She had arrived two weeks ago with only one suitcase, a weather-worn backpack, and a file of falsified references. No one asked too many questions in towns like this. People were polite, but not curious. They saw a pale-faced girl renting the tiny apartment above an old bookstore and assumed heartbreak or family drama-not scandal. Not shame.
Not what had actually happened.
Elira pressed her fingers against the windowpane as she watched the morning mist curl along the street below. The bookstore owner, Mrs. Halverson, had left a bag of croissants at her door again. She didn't ask why. She didn't press when Elira said she preferred to keep to herself. She simply smiled with warm eyes and said, "Some people need time to land."
Landing. That was a word Elira hadn't felt since the night she left the city. Since the night Kaelan Mardric shattered everything.
She hadn't planned on getting involved with him. No one planned to fall for a man like that-sharp, brutal, composed in the most unnerving way. The kind of man who could command a room with just one glance. But it happened. Slowly. And then all at once.
He never touched her at first. Barely spoke outside of work. But when he looked at her, it was like he saw something no one else did-like he could read every lie she told herself to keep going. And maybe that's what made her weak.
Or maybe it was the loneliness. Maybe it was wanting to be seen.
But the moment he crossed the line, he didn't look back. And neither could she.
The worst part wasn't that he ruined her career or that her name was quietly erased from the company's records. The worst part wasn't even the betrayal, the false promises whispered in the dark, or the morning after when he returned to being a stranger. The worst part was what he left her with-what she now carried in secret.
Elira turned from the window and touched her stomach instinctively, though there was nothing to see yet. Not really. Just a dull ache. A secret forming in silence.
The nausea came in waves now, unpredictable but relentless. She hadn't gone to a doctor yet. She hadn't dared. That would mean facing reality, and she wasn't ready for that. Not while her world still felt like it was crumbling beneath her feet.
The job at the small café down the road was simple enough. The pay barely covered rent, but it was quiet, and that's what she needed. No spreadsheets, no high-rise offices, no glass walls and lingering stares. Just worn aprons, sticky menus, and the smell of burnt coffee.
That morning, she washed her face slowly, avoiding her own reflection in the mirror. The bruises were gone. The physical ones, at least. But the hollow look in her eyes remained.
She pulled her sweater tighter around her frame. It hung loose on her now. She hadn't been eating much. Her body knew before her mind did, and now it was a slow adjustment-trying to nourish something she wasn't sure she wanted to grow. Something that came from him.
Kaelan would never know. He didn't deserve to.
He had called her one last time, weeks ago. Just once. A cold voicemail left at 3:17 AM. No apologies. No concern. Just:
> "I suggest you forget everything that happened. For your own sake."
She remembered standing in her tiny bathroom, hands trembling as she deleted it. She remembered staring at her phone long after it went black, as if it still had something else to say.
Forget? How do you forget something still growing inside you?
The morning passed slowly. The café was half-empty, with the usual customers filtering in. Mrs. Dwyer with her crossword puzzles. The Sanders twins with their endless questions. And the boy with headphones who never spoke more than two words.
Elira moved through it all like clockwork, but her mind never stayed. She was always somewhere else-back in Kaelan's office, back in the night where it all started, back in the moment she lost herself for the sake of someone who never planned to keep her.
At noon, she stepped outside for a breath of air. The town square looked peaceful under the overcast sky. For a second, she almost believed this life could become permanent. That maybe she could raise a child here, quietly, invisibly.
But peace was never meant to last long for people like her.
As she turned to reenter the café, a man stood across the street-dark coat, expensive shoes, holding a phone to his ear.
Her blood ran cold.
Not because she recognized him. But because she recognized the look-the kind of presence that didn't belong in Rosefield. The kind of man who couldn't have found her unless someone had been looking.
Unless he had sent someone.
Elira froze.
And then he looked up. Straight at her.
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