The morning after felt heavier than most.
Nathan had left early, saying he needed to clear his head. I didn't argue — maybe because part of me needed that space too.
But as the silence grew longer, it started to echo louder than words ever could.
I sat by the window, watching the sunlight crawl across the floor, and thought about everything Marcus once said.
"I was there when nobody saw you."
"I stayed when they all laughed at you."
Those words still found a way to make me feel small — grateful, guilty, and trapped all at once.
The thing about people who once saved you is that a part of you always wants to repay them, even when repayment looks like self-destruction.
My phone buzzed.
Marcus: You don't reply anymore. Have you forgotten who stood by you when you had nothing?
My chest tightened.
He always knew what to say to twist the past into something that looked like love.
I didn't reply. Instead, I stared at the unsent message:
You helped me, yes. But that doesn't mean I owe you my peace.
Nathan came back that evening. He looked tired, eyes red like he'd been fighting with his own thoughts.
"I saw Marcus today," he said quietly.
My body froze. "Why?"
"He came to talk business. He said he just wanted to apologize for how things ended before."
Before.
The word stretched like a wound.
I searched his eyes for a sign — was it anger? Jealousy? Doubt?
But all I saw was something softer. Fear, maybe.
Fear of losing something he was just beginning to trust.
"I didn't tell him anything," Nathan said. "But he said things… about you."
I swallowed hard. "Like what?"
He hesitated. "That he was there when everyone turned their backs on you. That he built you up. That you left him when he had nothing."
The words hit harder than I expected. Marcus was rewriting history again — this time for Nathan.
"And you?" I asked quietly. "Do you believe him?"
Nathan looked away. "I don't know what to believe, Elena. You never talk about that part of your life."
I wanted to. I really did. But how do you explain pain that still makes your voice tremble?
So I just said, "Some things aren't easy to tell — not because they're secrets, but because they're scars."
He nodded, but I could see the distance growing again.
And that night, even with his hand in mine, I could feel him drifting away.