The ocean stretched far and wide before her, a vast, endless expanse of gray-blue waves rolling under a silver sky. The air was sharp with salt and the whisper of wind. Chloe sat on a blanket-draped lounge chair, her knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, watching the tide roll in and out like it held all the answers.
It had been two days since the hospital.
Dr. Lennox , that was his name, had offered her a place to stay "until the social worker situation is figured out," he said. But Chloe could see the quiet worry behind his kind eyes. He didn't press, didn't demand answers. He simply opened the doors of his coastal cottage and let her have the spare room and the quiet.
The house was beautiful , old wood and wide windows that looked out on the sea. Peaceful. Safe. But Chloe had learned the hard way that safety was an illusion. A soft lie people told themselves to sleep at night.
She watched the white foam crash against the rocks below, her fingers absently tracing the rim of the steaming tea cup he'd left her earlier. The tea had long gone cold, untouched.
A gull called in the distance, swooping across the gray horizon.
Her reflection in the sliding glass door caught her eye , a girl in a too-big sweater, hair messy from sleep, eyes shadowed by days without rest.
But it wasn't just exhaustion in her eyes. It was something deeper.
She didn't recognize the person staring back at her.
"Chloe," she whispered to herself. Then louder, as if testing how it felt to say her name aloud. "Chloe."
The sound felt foreign. Like trying on someone else's clothes.
She had nearly died. She had been thrown away like nothing. And now, she was expected to go back? To be normal?
No. Not yet.
Not until she knew the truth.
Who were they? Why her?
She remembered the snake tattoo, it was etched behind the man's ear, vivid and cruel. And the scarred woman who called her "the girl" like she was some item to be passed around, hidden away, discarded.
Chloe clenched her hands into fists, the warmth from the mug seeping into her skin like an anchor.
They had wanted her gone. That fall was no accident. She had seen it in their eyes.
And she had questions that needed answers.
She thought of Nate, again. His voice. His laugh. The way his hand lingered on hers a second too long sometimes.
She missed him with a ferocity that surprised her.
But she couldn't go back , not until she could protect herself. Not until she knew who to trust. Because if they found her once… they could find her again.
She needed to be smarter.
Stronger.
No more hiding behind people who couldn't save her.
The creak of the wooden floorboards behind her was the only sound that warned her of someone approaching. She didn't turn around. She already knew it was Dr. Lennox.
He always walked like he didn't want to startle her, slow, careful, patient.
"Didn't mean to interrupt," he said softly, standing just inside the door with a folded sweater in one hand. "Thought you might be cold."
Chloe gave a small smile. "Thanks. The ocean looks peaceful, but the wind bites."
He stepped forward and laid the sweater over the chair beside her, his eyes following hers out to the sea.
"This place has a strange way of healing people," he murmured. "Something about the rhythm of the waves, I guess."
Chloe nodded, then hesitated. "Why did you bring me here? Really?"
He looked at her, thoughtful. "Because you needed time. And because… you reminded me of someone. My daughter."
Chloe blinked. "You have a daughter?"
"I did." He glanced back at the waves, his voice gentling. "She died five years ago. Car accident. Hit and run. I couldn't save her. But maybe, in some small way, I can help someone else."
Chloe swallowed, heart heavy. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be." He turned back to her. "But Chloe… I can't help you unless you let me. I don't need your name or the details. But if someone's looking for you…"
"They are," she cut in quietly. "And if they find me again, I won't survive a second time."
Dr. Lennox was silent for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "Then we make sure they don't."
Chloe looked at him, truly looked at him, for the first time.
There was no judgment in his eyes. Just quiet strength. A promise.
She exhaled, long and slow. "I want to know who they are. Why they wanted me gone."
"And if I help you with that," he said, "do you promise to let me take care of your wounds in the meantime?"
Chloe almost smiled. "Deal."
He stood up and patted her shoulder gently. "Come inside when you're ready. There's soup on the stove."
As he turned and walked back into the house, Chloe turned once more toward the sea.
The tide was shifting.
And so was she.