The rain hadn't stopped since the morning after the divorce.
It beat against the windows like it was angry too, like the sky itself was mourning something it couldn't name. I pulled the blanket tighter around me, but the cold still found a way in.
For the first time in years, I woke up alone, no low voice beside me, no quiet hum of George's coffee machine from the kitchen. Just silence, thick and heavy.
I had always hated silence. It never stayed empty for long; it always filled itself with memories I was trying to forget.
Lilly had stopped by before going to work just to check on me like she always did whenever she worries about me.
I made coffee, burned toast, and stared at the wall like it had the answers I was missing.
Maybe this was freedom. Maybe this was what I had fought for.
But if it was, why did it feel like punishment?
My phone buzzed with notifications, headlines, mentions, tags. I shouldn't have looked, but I did.
"The Ice King Finally Free; Inside the Robert Divorce."
"Lea Robert: The Woman Who Couldn't Handle the Throne."
"From Fairytale to Fallout."
Some comments made my stomach twist.
She probably used him for money.
No one leaves George Robert unless he lets them.
I threw my phone onto the couch, my chest tight.
The media loved building fairy tales, but they loved tearing them down even more.
I didn't marry George for his money. I married him because, once, he had looked at me like I was the only thing keeping him sane.
I poured my cold coffee down the sink and stared out the window again. I couldn't stay trapped in this house forever.
"Start somewhere small," Lilly had said. "You're talented, Lea. You just forgot."
So I took her advice and went to the interview she'd arranged. It was a small interior design firm in the city, nothing glamorous, but it was something.
The manager, Mrs. Evans, was kind but sharp. "You've been out of the field for a while," she said, flipping through my portfolio.
"I had… personal commitments," I replied carefully.
She nodded. "Your work is impressive. I'll be honest, I didn't expect this level of depth."
I smiled faintly. "I didn't expect to be here either."
For the first time in months, I felt something I hadn't in a long time, purpose.
The sky had turned gray by the time I left the office. I tugged my coat tighter and started walking toward the subway.
That's when I noticed the car.
A sleek black sedan parked across the street. Tinted windows. Engine running.
I slowed down, pretending to check my phone. The car didn't move.
It was probably nothing. Maybe I was just being paranoid.
But the unease lingered all the way home.
That evening, I decided to pick up a few things from the apartment George and I once shared. It had been sitting empty since I left.
The doorman looked surprised when he saw me. "Mrs. Robert... sorry, Ms. Robert. You're here today?"
I forced a smile. "Just grabbing some things."
He hesitated. "Uh… someone was here earlier. Said they were checking the place for you."
My stomach dropped. "Who?"
He frowned, trying to remember. "Didn't give a name. But they had one of those security badges from your husband's company. Tall, dark coat."
I froze for a moment before forcing another smile. "Right. Probably a maintenance check."
But George's company didn't handle apartment maintenance.
When I unlocked the door, everything looked untouched, almost.
The air felt too still. A faint trace of cologne that wasn't mine hung in the air. His cologne.
I should've been angry. Instead, I just stood there, letting the memories hit me like waves.
There, on the coffee table, was a note I'd forgotten existed.
It was one of his, from a night years ago when I worked late.
"Come home soon. Dinner's waiting. –G."
My throat tightened. I remembered that night. He'd burned the pasta, set off the smoke alarm, and insisted it was "romantic."
I laughed softly, even as tears blurred my eyes. For a moment, it felt like he was still here, like I could turn and find him standing behind me, smiling that small, quiet smile that used to melt my heart.
But the apartment was empty.
I crumpled the note in my fist and dropped it in the trash.
The rain started again as I walked out of the building.
And then I saw it.
The same black car.
It was parked half a block away, engine humming softly.
I stopped walking. My umbrella trembled slightly in my hand.
Coincidence, I told myself. Just coincidence.
But then the driver's window lowered an inch.
Enough for me to see a hand resting on the wheel. Pale, still. Watching.
My heartbeat quickened. I turned and started walking faster, pretending not to notice. By the time I glanced back, the car was gone.
I reached the villa soaked and shaking. Lilly wasn't home yet, thank God. I didn't want her to see me like this, jumpy and paranoid.
I went to make tea, trying to calm down. That's when I noticed the envelope on the front table.
No stamp, no address. Just my name.
Inside was a folded piece of paper.
The handwriting was neat but unfamiliar.
You're not safe. Don't trust anyone, not even him.
The words blurred for a second as my pulse pounded in my ears.
Not even him?
Did they mean George?
My first instinct was to laugh it off, but the unease from earlier made that impossible.
I checked the windows. Locked. Checked the door. Secure.
Still, the feeling that someone had been there wouldn't leave.
I texted Lilly to ask when she'd be back. No response.
The rain outside grew heavier, thunder rolling like it was crawling closer.
I tried distracting myself by unpacking, but every sound made me jump.
A car horn outside. The creak of the old floorboards. My own breathing.
Then came the softest noise, a click from the front door.
I froze.
Hadn't I locked it?
My pulse raced. I turned off the lights, moving quietly toward the entryway. The door was open, just a crack. The wind whistled through it, making the curtains sway.
"Lilly?" I called, my voice barely a whisper.
No answer.
The rain grew louder, hammering against the glass.
I reached for my phone, my fingers shaking. Before I could dial, it started ringing on its own.
George's name flashed across the screen.
For a moment, I just stared. I hadn't heard from him since the divorce.
I answered. "George?"
His voice came through the line, rough, urgent, and afraid.
"Lea, listen to me. Don't go inside."
I froze. "What..."
Before I could finish, the creak on the floorboard got me so terrified that my phone dropped to the ground with a loud thud. The line went dead immediately.
I froze and was unable to move.