The city pulsed outside her windows, but Elena sat in stillness. The atelier had emptied hours ago, yet she lingered in her office, the only light coming from the lamp on her desk. The quiet should have comforted her—it used to, in the long nights of sketching and dreaming—but now it pressed in like a weight.
She traced the rim of her coffee cup with a fingertip, the once-steaming drink long gone cold. The sketches scattered before her blurred together: gowns, silhouettes, visions of beauty that once felt like lifelines. Tonight, they looked like ghosts.
Daniel appeared in the doorway, sleeves rolled, tie loosened. He had stayed late too, quietly finishing paperwork, making calls she didn’t ask him to make, standing by her without complaint. His loyalty was steady, unwavering, and yet—she could feel the gulf widening.
“Elena,” he said gently, stepping closer. “Come home. You haven’t eaten.”
You Pick, You React
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Her lips parted, but no words came. Home. What was home now? A place with Daniel’s warmth, yes, but shadowed by doubts that never left her. She forced a smile, brittle at the edges. “In a minute. I just… need to finish this.”
He moved to stand behind her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders. His touch was warm, grounding. For a moment, she leaned back into it, closing her eyes. But then, as quickly as the comfort came, the questions surged again.
What if she dragged him down with her? What if love wasn’t enough to hold back the tide of investors abandoning her, of family questioning her, of clients whispering that she was no longer the Elena they revered?
“Elena,” Daniel murmured, as if sensing her turmoil. “Don’t shut me out. I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to carry this alone.”
Her throat tightened. She wanted to tell him everything—that she feared not just the collapse of her empire, but the collapse of herself. That the woman who had once commanded rooms with a single glance now felt like a fragile seam, ready to tear.
Instead, she said softly, “You don’t understand. This name, this house—it’s more than me. It’s my family, my staff, my mother’s legacy. If I fall, I don’t just fall alone. And I don’t know if love can carry all of that.”
Daniel crouched down beside her chair, forcing her to meet his eyes. His voice was quiet but fierce. “Then let me carry it with you. Don’t decide for me what love can and can’t hold.”
Tears burned at the edges of her vision, but she blinked them back. She kissed his forehead, her lips lingering against his skin, a fragile apology. “Go on ahead,” she whispered. “I’ll be home soon.”
He hesitated, pain flickering in his eyes, but finally nodded. When the door closed behind him, the silence returned, heavier than before.
Elena pressed her palms against her eyes, whispering to the empty room: “How much longer can I keep pretending I’m strong?”
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