Elara Monroe couldn't sleep. The apartment was quiet, but her chest felt heavy, tight in a way that made it hard to breathe. Adrian Blackwood was in the bedroom, lying on his side with his back to her. She had left the lights off, sat on the edge of the bed, and tried to focus on the faint hum of the city below, but her mind kept replaying the same thought: everything between them had changed. She pressed her palm over her chest and closed her eyes. The tightness didn't ease. Instead, it pulled her into memories she had tried to forget, memories of how they used to be perfect. She remembered the morning light spilling into the apartment as he made her coffee exactly the way she liked it, no words needed. He would hum a little tune, walk over, brush a strand of hair behind her ear, and whisper something silly that made her laugh. She remembered leaning against him on the sofa, feeling like nothing in the world could touch her because he was there, steady and warm. Those moments had felt effortless, like love was just something that existed naturally between them.
Then the memory faded, replaced by the present. She remembered the dinner she had made tonight, still sitting on the counter, untouched. He hadn't looked at it once. His attention was elsewhere, absorbed by emails, calls, numbers, decisions that seemed more important than her. She remembered the way she had tried to speak to him, how she had tried to ask him why he had changed, and how he had told her it was a privilege to care for her in the first place. That one word had landed like a stone in her chest.
Another memory came unbidden. A rainy afternoon when they were stuck in the apartment, laughter echoing off the walls as he tried to teach her chess. She had rolled her eyes at him and teased him, but he had smiled that slow, soft smile that made her feel like she was the only person in the world. He had held her hand then, and she had felt safe, loved, and seen. Safe, loved, seen.
The flashback ended. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, counting the seconds as if that would make sense of the hollow ache in her chest. In reality, it only made her more aware of how far they had drifted. The warmth, the laughter, the easy affection,it had all been replaced by silence and distance.
Her phone buzzed softly. She ignored it. She didn't want to be distracted, didn't want to talk to anyone. Not her friends, not her family, not him. She just wanted to feel what she was feeling without pretending it didn't exist.
Another memory came, sharper this time. Late at night, the apartment dark except for the city lights, he had held her close as she cried over something small and insignificant. He hadn't judged, hadn't turned away. He had just held her and let her feel safe. She remembered the way he whispered her name and how, in that moment, she believed love would always be enough.
Back to the present, and she felt the emptiness again. He hadn't reached for her tonight. He hadn't asked her where she was going earlier. He hadn't noticed her leaving or returning or even sitting on the stairs alone. The absence was so loud it hurt.
Elara stood, moving toward the door. She didn't know where she was going. She just needed to breathe, to escape the weight of his indifference for a little while. She paused, hand on the doorknob, and another memory hit her,dinner on a Sunday afternoon, the two of them dancing in the kitchen, laughing until they were out of breath, pretending no one else existed. She swallowed hard, fighting the tightness in her chest, trying to remind herself that those moments were gone.
She stepped out into the hallway, letting the cool air wash over her. The stairs felt solid beneath her feet as she sat on the steps, leaning back against the wall, bag in her lap. She focused on her breathing. In. Out. In. Out. The tension in her body slowly eased, just a little, as if the distance from him made her feel alive again.
Her mind kept flashing back to the way he used to look at her, the warmth that had made her feel safe, the touch that had made everything seem possible. She pressed her palm over her chest once more, acknowledging the truth her body had already known: something had changed, and it was not going to fix itself.
The city lights shifted, shadows moving across the wall, and she realized that she had a choice. She could stay in the silence, shrinking herself into a space where she barely existed, or she could step away and reclaim the love and attention she deserved, even if that meant leaving him behind.
She stood again, feeling the ache in her chest, and whispered to herself that tomorrow, she would decide. She didn't know exactly what that meant yet, but she knew she couldn't ignore the truth anymore.
And for the first time in weeks, the thought of being away from him didn't feel like fear. It felt like freedom