Adele's pov
"So, have you got any plans today?" Adrian asked as he buttoned his coat, voice casual , too casual.
I followed him to the door, clutching my mug like it was something to do with my hands. "I'll probably go to the gym this morning," I said,
"Then do the shopping this afternoon. Suburban bliss."
I tried to make it sound light, even funny. but It didn't land.
He stopped, halfway through pulling on his sleeve, and looked at me properly for the first time that morning. The way he used to look at me every day.
Now it just felt like a check-in , like he was making sure I wouldn't break while he was gone.
"The simple things are comforting," I added quickly, my voice smaller. I reached out, smoothing my palm over his chest, fingers brushing the rough edge of his tie. I could feel his heart , steady, distant.
He smiled, polite and tired. "Right… well, I'll call you later."
I leaned in and kissed his cheek. It wasn't much , just skin against skin, barely there. But it still hurt, somehow.
"Have a good day," I whispered.
He gave a little nod, the kind people give when they don't know what else to say, and walked out.
I watched him go from the window , that familiar stride, straight shoulders, everything about him so controlled. My reflection sat behind his image in the glass , me in my robe, hair a mess, pretending not to care that he hadn't looked back.
After Adrian left, the house went too quiet again.
It's funny , how the silence feels heavier than noise. I tried to read, tried to tidy, even turned the radio on. None of it stuck.
I told myself I wasn't thinking about her.
Lena.
I'd seen her once , just once , and that was enough for my brain to start chewing on it.
Pretty, uncertain, that kind of kindness that makes men want to fix things.
Exactly his type.
I wasn't following him, not really. I just wanted some air, that's all.
So I grabbed my coat, stepped outside, and somehow ended up walking the same route Adrian takes to work.
The school gates were just up ahead when I saw her.
Lena. Standing there with a boy who looked like her , small, dark curls, the same sad smile.
I slowed down, heart thudding hard enough to make me feel stupid. I almost turned back. Almost.
But then she looked up, and I walked straight into her.
"Oh,!" she gasped, stumbling back. The sound snapped me out of myself.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry," she said quickly,
my hand flying out before I remembered what I was doing.
"I wasn't looking where I was going."she said again
I laughed it off , that polite, breathless kind of laugh people use when they're embarrassed.
"It's fine, really," I said, brushing my coat down.
Then her face changed , recognition flickered, then confusion.
"It's you…she said immediately our face jammed.
My eyes narrowed slightly pretending not to know who she was . "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"No , no, I just, I work with your husband," I lied so easily it scared me a little. "Three days a week, anyway. Not today. I just saw your picture on his desk."
My face softened instantly. "You work with Adrian?" I asked, smiling , too warmly even though I could notice how restless she was.
"Yes," she said.
I just walked him there I said, pretending to be casual, though my pulse was hammering in my neck.
"Small world"I said forcing a small laugh
There was a pause , heavy, awkward, filled with all the things I couldn't say I was just studying her looking for what Adrain saw in her.
Then she smiled again, shy but friendly anyways,I should get going.
I quickly interrupted her "I don't suppose you fancy a coffee, do you? I'm new here, don't really know anyone."
She hesitated but I kept insisting this was a chance to study her up close. The woman in my husband's orbit.
"Sure," she said, with a little shrug.
"You lead, I'll follow."I said with a smile that didn't reach my eyes.
She turned and started walking, chatting lightly about the café down the street.
And I followed, like it was all chance, all coincidence.
But it wasn't.
Not really.
It's strange how easy it is to sit across from someone you already hate a little.
Not hate, exactly , curiosity sharpened to a point.
Lena stirs her coffee too much. The spoon clinks against the cup like she's trying to drown out her own thoughts. I watch the movement, not her face as she talked about her divorce.
"It's been, what, three years since your divorce?" I ask, pretending to be casual.
Her hand freezes mid-stir. "Yeah.."
I smile like it's small talk. "Anyone new in your life?"
She laughs , quick, nervous, eyes darting away. "No. God, no. I barely have time for that."
The sound of her laugh doesn't match her face. It's brittle.
That's when I notice the small cut on her wrist , half-healed, faint but fresh enough to speak. I glance down before I can stop myself.
"Oh," she says quickly, pulling her sleeve down. "It's nothing. Just some stupid accident."
I nod, but my pulse skips. "Of course."
She takes a long sip of her drink, then blurts out like she's trying to fill the silence, "I sleepwalk sometimes. It's weird, right? I woke up on my balcony last week."
Something tightens in my chest , like a string pulled too fast.
Sleepwalking.
For a second, I see it , Rowan, in that half-lit room at Westfield, laughing softly as he told me he used to wander the halls in his sleep. The boy who sleepwalks.
And me , the girl who paints fires.
I force a smile, even as my stomach twists. "Sleepwalking's not so strange. The mind likes to wander when the body can't."
She frowns slightly, like she's trying to understand what I mean. "Yeah, I guess."
My phone buzzes on the table , Adrian.
Of course.
I glance at it, then back at her. "Excuse me," I said already knowing what this will be.
"Hey," I say softly into the phone.
"Where are you?" His voice is calm, clipped.
"Just out. Walked to the café for a bit."
"Alone?"
My eyes flick toward Lena, who's pretending not to listen. "Mm-hm. Alone."
He pauses. "Don't forget your pills."
"I won't," I lie. "I'll see you later."
When I hang up, Lena looks a little awkward, like she's intruded on something private.
"Sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to,"
"It's fine," I interrupt quickly. "He just worries."
I give her my most practiced smile , the one that says everything's fine when it's not.
We talk a little more , work, the city, her son , but I barely hear her words. I'm cataloguing her instead: the tremor in her fingers, the way her smile falters when she mentions her ex.
When it's time to go, I reach for my phone. "We should do this again," I say lightly.
She hesitates, but then nods. "Sure. Yeah. Why not?"
I take her number, type it in slowly, my thumb hovering too long before pressing save.
She says goodbye, waves as she crosses the street.
I watch her go , the way her shoulders curve forward, the way she checks her phone before putting it away. She's smaller than I expected. Softer.
Before she even disappears around the corner, I'm already messaging her.
It was really lovely meeting you, Lena. We should definitely catch up again soon x I hit send immediately.
I could still taste the coffee bitter, sweet , something in between. Like lena.
She's been in my head since I left the coffe shop her laugh still echoing, her eyes just a little too open, a little too familiar. I keep replaying the way she said Adrian , soft, unguarded, like the name belonged to her mouth more than mine.
I got into the house and drop my keys into the bowl by the doo
My reflection catches in the hallway mirror , hair slightly out of place, lips smudged from the coffee. I almost look… human again.
Almost.
I hang my coat with care , the kind of care that comes from pretending everything's fine.
Then I paint.
Red first, always. Then orange. Then gold.
The colors bleed into each other like heat.
It's the only time I feel steady , when I'm building something that can burn without hurting me.
The brush slips, leaving a streak too thick across the canvas. I stare at it for too long, then laugh softly under my breath. "Perfect," I say, though it's anything but.
I made tea, because that's what normal people do.
Normal people drink tea, not thoughts.
The pill bottle sits by the kettle, waiting , patient as ever. I twist it open. Two blue, one white.
They look like tiny bits of control.
I pick one up, roll it between my fingers. It catches the light , and then I just… let go.
It hits the sink, spins once, disappears down the drain with a faint plink.
I breathe out, slow.
Like I've just done something holy.
Or stupid.
Steam from the kettle curls up past my face. The sound , that low rush , takes me back.
"Higher!" Rob called, grinning from the other branch.
We were both perched in that old oak behind Westfield
"You'll fall," I said.
"I won't," he said. "I'm good at not dying."
He was, back then.
He had the kind of laughter that made you forget where you were , even in a place like that.
"I had my session," I said, settling beside him. The wood creaks under our weight. "Dr. Graham thinks I'm ready to leave."
He goes quiet. The grin fades just enough to show what's underneath.
"Oh," he says finally. "So that's it, then."
"That's what?"
"You get fixed, and I stay broken."
I laugh softly, even though it's not funny. "No one's fixed here, Rowan. They just tell us when we've learned to fake it well enough."
He kicks at the bark, flakes of it scattering to the ground. "Right. So you'll go back to your perfect life. To your big house and Adrain.
"Don't start."
"I'm not starting," he says quickly, but his voice cracks on it. "Just… it's weird, you know? You were the only person who didn't treat me like I was crazy."
I looked at him at the way his fingers worry at the loose thread on his sleeve, his knee bouncing restlessly against the branch.
"You're not crazy," I say softly.
He laughs under his breath, a sound that's part bitterness, part disbelief. "Maybe not. But I'll feel like it when you're gone."
"I'm going to miss this," I whisper. "The quiet. The trees. You."
Rowan's jaw tightens. "Then don't go."
"I can't stay forever."
"Why not?" His voice is almost a plea now. "You could stay here. With me. We could figure it out together , the dreams, the… the other thing."
I shake my head. "It doesn't work like that. I have a life waiting for me."
He snorts. "You mean Adrian. The doctor who tells you what to eat and when to breathe."
"He's trying to help."
"Sure," Rowan says, eyes glinting. "Keep telling yourself that."
Faith's voice comes again, closer this time. "Adele? You've got a call!"
I climbed down slowly Back on the ground, Faith's waiting by the door with the phone held out. "It's him again," she says softly.
I take the receiver. "Adrian?"
He sounds tired, cautious
"I just wanted to check in. How are you feeling today?"
"Better," I said "I was outside."
"Good. Just… don't overdo it."
I felt someone was watching me and I looked back it was Rowan he was listening.
"Adrian," I said while glancing towards Rowan
"There's someone here I want you to meet. His name's Rowan."
A pause on the line.
"Adele," he says carefully, "you know I can't,"
"He's not a threat," I insist. "He understands things."
The silence stretches again
"I'll be there soon," Adrian says finally. "We'll talk about it then."
When I hang up, Rowan's at the door, smiling like he's already won something.
"So," he says softly. "So is he coming here"
"Yeah don't worry you'll love him" I said smiling
I blink and the memory fades , the oak tree gone, the grass replaced by tile.
The kettle whistles, pulling me back into the quiet of my kitchen.
The phone rings again. I already know who it is.
Then I pick up.
"Hello?"
"Adele," Adrian says. His tone's smooth, careful. That doctor voice he slips into when he's trying to sound calm but really isn't. "Just checking in."
I close my eyes and breathe out through my nose. "You already called this morning."
He hesitates. "I know. I just,wanted to check on you"
"You could've called my mobile."
Silence, then a small sigh. "You weren't answering."
I let that hang there. My thumb traces the chipped paint on the receiver, picking at it until it flakes under my nail. "So you tried the home line to check if I was back home you thought I wouldn't notice that's what you do when you don't trust me."
"That's not fair," he says softly. "You know I worry. Especially after,"
"After what?" I cut in. My voice comes out smaller than I intend. "After the pills, or after you decided to make worrying a full-time job?"
There's a pause on the other end
Finally, he exhales. "I'll be late tonight. There's some community work. Don't wait up."
And just like that, he's gone
Then I turn toward the canvas.
The brush feels heavy in my hand at first, but once I start, I can't stop.
Wide, furious strokes , blue bleeding into green, green swallowing grey.
The bristles drag across the surface, scraping and screaming through the silence. My heartbeat matches the rhythm. I don't think. I just move.
It starts as a forest , the one from Westfield, I think. The one behind the walls, where Rowan used to talk about freedom and ghosts and how the mind can live outside the body.
Then my hand slips, and the lines twist, forming something darker. The trees crowd closer, shadows thickening until the whole thing looks alive.
And in the middle , a well.
Deep. Silent. Endless.