SAFE HAVEN..

Chapter 0005

SAFE HAVEN

ELENA

Ryan’s words haunted me. His note. His text. His voice.

"I love you, Elena."

They replayed in my mind like a song stuck on repeat, taunting me as I sat behind my desk, staring blankly at the ceiling. It was absurd. A college student in love with his professor? The very idea made me scoff. I let out a bitter chuckle, shaking my head. What a ridiculous notion.

And yet… I hated how the words refused to fade, how they curled around my mind like an unrelenting vine, squeezing past my rational thoughts. I kept telling myself it was nothing more than youthful infatuation—reckless attraction that would inevitably pass. It had to. But deep inside—buried beneath layers of logic, fear, and self-restraint—something in me stirred. A dangerous part of me.

Because no matter how absurd Ryan’s confession was, the warmth in his voice, the raw conviction in his words… it was intoxicating. And I—I, who had long forgotten what it felt like to be adored—felt something in return. I shoved the thought away. It was useless to dwell on. I wasn’t doing anything inappropriate with Ryan. There was nothing between us beyond the lines of professionalism, so there was no reason to entertain this madness.

Besides, I had far bigger problems waiting for me at home.

Evan.

My husband. My tormentor.

The moment I thought of him, dread settled like a rock in my chest. I checked the time. He’s going to be furious. As I packed my things, my fingers trembled slightly. Evan was never a patient man, and being late—no matter how justified—was an insult to his fragile ego.

I prayed, like I always did, that tonight would be different. That for once, I could step into my home without the air suffocating me. That he wouldn’t be in one of his moods. That I wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells or shrink beneath his glare. But hoping was foolish.

By the time I started my car, my fear was a living thing, coiling in my stomach like a snake. Desperate for a distraction, I turned on the radio. A woman’s voice filled the car.

"Welcome back to our segment on women escaping toxic marriages. Today’s guest is a survivor of domestic abuse, here to share how she finally found freedom."

I almost turned it off. But then the guest spoke.

"The first step," she said, "is to face your fears. You have more power than you know."

Power.

I closed my eyes, gripping the steering wheel. Did I still have any left?

I wasn’t sure.

---

When I pulled into the driveway, the house loomed before me like a prison. I sat in the car for a long moment, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel. Breathe, Elena. Just breathe. I exhaled sharply, steeling myself before stepping inside.

The moment I entered, I saw him.

Evan sat on the couch, sprawled lazily, a glass of whiskey in hand. But the instant his sharp eyes landed on me, the air shifted. His jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the glass.

"What took you so long?" His voice was clipped, controlled. But I knew better. The venom was there, just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to strike.

I sighed, forcing myself to remain neutral. "I was working."

His lips twisted into a smirk. "Working? Or were you too busy entertaining your students?" His tone dripped with accusation, with jealousy.

I stiffened. Here we go again.

"Yes, Evan," I said evenly, refusing to take his bait. "I was doing what I do best. Teaching."

That was the wrong answer.

Evan stood abruptly, closing the space between us in two long strides. Towering over me. Caging me in. His presence was suffocating, his cologne laced with whiskey and anger.

"You're getting bold now, aren't you, Lena?" His voice was a low growl, his breath hot against my face. "Have you forgotten who I am?"

I swallowed, my hands trembling at my sides.

"I'm your husband," he continued, his tone dark. "You will show me respect."

Respect.

A bitter laugh bubbled up my throat before I could stop it. I was so tired.

"Respect is earned, Evan," I snapped, my voice sharp. "Maybe if you didn’t spend all your time accusing me of the things you’re guilty of, we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

The room froze.

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I had made a mistake.

Evan’s face darkened, his eyes stormy.

"You cheap bitch!" he roared, lunging forward.

I tensed, my body locking up in fear, but I refused to step back.

"I'm done, Evan," I said, my voice shaking but firm. "I won’t let you talk to me like this anymore."

For a second, silence stretched between us.

Then he laughed. A slow, cruel laugh that sent chills down my spine.

"You think you’re done?" he whispered, his smirk widening.

Then his voice dropped, his tone dripping with something darker.

"You remember, don’t you? What you did before our wedding?"

The air in my lungs disappeared. My entire body went cold.

"What are you talking about?" I forced the words out, but my voice was weak.

He smirked. "Oh, come on, Lena. The night of the party. The one where you had a little too much fun… and someone ended up dead."

My breath hitched.

No.

I tried to shake my head, to deny it, but the memories clawed their way back. That terrible night. The screaming. The blood. The lifeless body crumpled on the sidewalk.

I could never forget.

Evan leaned in, his voice dangerously soft. "You think the cops believed your little ‘accident’ story on their own? I was the one who cleaned it up, Lena. I made sure you weren’t arrested. I made the evidence disappear."

I staggered back, tears burning down my face.

"You… you kept this from me?"

"Damn right I did." He sneered. "You owe me everything. And if you ever think about leaving me, just remember…" His smirk deepened. "One phone call, and you’re done."

The floor tilted beneath me.

Evan turned and walked away, leaving me crumpled in the hallway.

I stared after him, my mind racing.

This is never going to end.

---

That night, I sat in the shower, my body curled beneath the scalding water. Ryan’s words whispered in my mind again.

"I love you, Elena."

For the first time, they didn’t feel absurd.

They felt like a lifeline.

By morning, I had made my decision.

While Evan slept, I packed a bag. My hands shook, but I worked quickly. At the bottom of the bag, I placed a small flash drive—something I had discovered years ago but never dared to use.

Until now.

Before I left, I stood by the bedroom door, watching him sleep. Then, in a whisper, I said, "Checkmate, Evan."

And with that, I walked out the door.

For the first time in years, I was choosing freedom.

And I wasn’t looking back.