CHAPTER 29 — THE EDGE OF WHAT'S LEFT
The wind was sharp enough to sting when Lena stepped outside, but she barely felt it. The world around her seemed washed-out, as if someone had drained the color from the campus. She hadn't slept. Not really. She'd closed her eyes, but her mind kept replaying the photo, the handwriting, the message that should have been impossible.
It's not over.
Every time she blinked, those three words crawled into her thoughts.
Elias waited by the stone railing overlooking the courtyard. He wasn't usually one for pacing, but he was doing it now — slow, controlled steps that gave away the worry tightening his shoulders. The moment she approached, the tension in his face eased only slightly.
"Did you get any more messages?" he asked.
"No," she whispered. "Just the two."
"Good." He paused. "But I still want you to stay close today. Just until we figure out who's behind this."
"Elias…" She swallowed. "What if it *is* Maya? What if she didn't—"
He stepped toward her, gently but firmly. "Lena. We don't know anything yet. Don't jump to the worst conclusion."
"But it feels like her," Lena whispered. "Everything about it feels like her."
The wind blew a strand of hair across her face. He reached to tuck it back, then seemed to catch himself, lowering his hand slowly instead. Boundaries. Caution. But the warmth of the almost-touch still lingered on her skin.
"Let's talk somewhere private," he said. "Not out here. Not where someone can watch us."
The word *watch* made her stomach twist.
They moved into his office. He locked the door out of habit — or maybe fear — and Lena sat on the edge of the chair while he searched his desk drawer for something.
A notebook.
Thick, leather-bound, filled with neat handwriting.
"I started keeping this after… everything," Elias said, setting it in front of her. "Dates. Incidents. Details you told me. Things I noticed. In case anyone tried to twist the story."
Lena looked up at him, startled. "You did all this for me?"
"For us." He corrected softly. "For the truth."
Her chest warmed, just for a moment.
Then his expression shifted, more serious.
"I want you to tell me exactly what you felt when you saw that message," he said. "Not just what you thought. What you felt."
She hesitated. "Elias, why does that matter?"
"Because stalkers rely on emotional reactions. Guilt. Fear. Nostalgia. If someone is trying to pull you back into that headspace, we need to know why."
Her hands tightened on the notebook.
"Part of me…" she began, voice low, "felt… almost like I owed her something."
Elias's jaw tensed. "Lena."
"I know. I know it's wrong. But she was a huge part of my life. She was there when no one else was. Even when she scared me, she still… she mattered."
"That doesn't mean she gets to own you," he said sharply.
Lena flinched. He noticed and immediately softened.
"I'm sorry. I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at what she turned you into."
"What do you mean?"
He sat across from her, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
"You apologize for breathing," he murmured. "You take responsibility for wounds you didn't cause. You let fear shape you into something smaller than you are."
She stared at him, throat tightening.
"You deserve a life that isn't ruled by someone else's pain," he continued. "Someone else's obsession. Someone else's version of who they want you to be."
Her eyes burned. She hadn't cried since the rooftop. She didn't want to cry now.
But something inside her cracked — not from fear this time, but from the quiet truth in his voice.
"I'm trying," she whispered.
"I know." His voice warmed. "And you're doing better than you think."
For a moment, the room felt still. Safe. Whole.
Then Lena's phone vibrated on the desk.
Both of them froze.
One new message.
Her pulse jumped painfully.
Elias's expression darkened. "Don't open it yet. Breathe first."
Lena's fingers trembled as she tapped the screen.
It wasn't a text this time.
It was a photo.
A photo of *Elias's office door*.
Taken minutes ago.
Taken from the hallway.
A chill spread slowly down her spine, each inch colder than the last.
Elias stood abruptly, moving to the window, scanning the quad below. The tension in his body was electric and coiled tight.
"Someone was just here," he said. "Watching."
Lena didn't move. She couldn't.
Another vibration.
Another message.
**You think she's gone.
She's not.
I never left.**
Lena's breath shattered.
Elias rushed to her side, gripping the phone gently but firmly, scanning the screen.
"This isn't Maya's writing," he said. "Look at the spacing. The phrasing. This is someone else."
Lena's stomach plummeted.
"Then who?" she whispered.
Elias's voice dropped to a dangerous calm.
"Someone who wants you to believe she's still alive."
A knock suddenly echoed from the office door.
One.
Two.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Lena's blood turned to ice.
Elias stepped in front of her instantly, shielding her with his body.
The knock came again.
Soft.
Rhythmic.
Patient.
Whoever stood on the other side wasn't going away.
And Lena had the sickening feeling — the feeling that sank into the bones — that the real nightmare was only just beginning.