Chapter Four A Room to Breathe

Melinda’s POV

"What does it take to find a motel out here?" I sighed, rubbing my eyes as I muttered. I’ve been driving for over an hour on this dark, lonely road .

All I see are trees and empty stretches of land, It’s getting darker by the minute and my GPS isn’t helping at all.

Great. Just me, the trees and my own voice for company. Maybe I'm really losing it, I thought with a tired chuckle.

"Finally, some civilization," I muttered to myself spotting a motel just three clicks away on my Gps.

The motel sign blinked a dull red VACANCY as I pulled into the gravel lot. It buzzed like a dying fly flickering weakly against the night sky.

The building itself sat low and weary, its paint peeling in places like even the walls carried stories they were too ashamed to tell.

Perfect.

I parked near the far end, away from the street. No one would notice me here and that’s exactly what I needed no stares, no questions, no reminders of who I used to be.

The concierge, a chubby cheeked man who looked like he did nothing all day but eat chicken ribs and avoid movement at all costs. He gave me a brief nod as a welcome gesture and didn’t bother getting up from his chair probably because he hadn’t exercised in years.

He didn’t ask for much just a name, a card, and a signature. I gave him the fake name I’d used once in college while dodging an ex. The lie rolled off my tongue like it belonged there.

“Room twelve. Down the left,” he said, handing me the keycard without looking up from his screen.

“Twelve?” I asked, gesturing with my hands to get his attention, since he clearly wasn’t paying me any.

I put the card in my pocket and walked down the hall. Each step sounded loud in the quiet. I stopped at the door and held the handle.

This would be the first night in years I wasn’t sharing a bed with a lie.

Inside, the room was plain brown carpet, beige curtains, a queen bed that squeaked when I dropped my bag on it. One lamp worked. The other flickered, then died. I didn’t care. I wasn’t here for comfort.

I was here to disappear.

I sat on the bed and took off my white dress. It fell to the floor and stayed there in a small pile. I stared at it for a moment how foolish I must’ve looked wearing that while Andrew and Vanessa…

No.

Not tonight.

I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The pipes rattled, the water sputtered before settling into a steady stream. It wasn’t warm but it was clean and right now, that was enough. I let out a slow breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

After the drive, the dark roads and the silence pressing in on me like a second skin, even this cold water felt like comfort. I could finally breathe. I stepped under it anyway.

The cold bit into my skin, I welcomed it. Let it rinse off the last of the perfume he liked. The lipstick I wore for him. The version of me that bent over backward to keep our world together.

I stayed under until the numbness turned sharp. When I stepped out, the mirror was fogged up. I wiped it with my hand and saw my eyes staring back red, hollow, but still mine. Still standing.

Back in the room, I put on an old hoodie and leggings from my bag. I didn’t plan to leave for good, maybe a part of me knew. I’d packed essentials before I went to the office. Maybe I’d felt it. The unraveling. The final straw.

I grabbed my notebook and laid it open on the bed beside me.

I checked off the first task , Call my lawyer.

Then the second, Freeze the accounts.

It had taken one calm voice and two late-night emails. My shares were no longer in limbo.

Next came the list of what needed to happen next:

Plan for tomorrow:

1.​Find a short-term place in Vegas.

2.​Open a new bank account under Melinda Holt.

3.​Research office space or shared workstations.

4.​Get new business cards printed.

5.​Secure local licensing credentials.

6.​Find silence.

I stared at the last item. It wasn’t about revenge anymore. It was about reclaiming my voice.

Then I circled “Vegas” twice.

I was leaving first thing in the morning. If I lingered, I’d hesitate. And hesitation had already cost me enough.

I took the flash drive out again and plugged it into my laptop. Folder after folder opened my work, my name, my legacy. One stood out: Evoke.

Inside were sketches of what I truly wanted to build spaces designed for healing, escape, and resilience. Shelters that looked nothing like shelters. Homes that gave women a reason to believe in life again.

Andrew said the world wasn’t ready for it.

He was wrong.

My phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number.

"You don’t get to run from this".

Another message followed.

"You left the firm vulnerable". Come back before it’s too late.

I didn’t reply.

He could panic all he wanted. He could scramble to salvage what little control he had left. But I was already two steps ahead.

I turned off the phone and set it face-down.

I lay back on the bed and looked at the ceiling. There were water stains on the plaster ,small and ugly, like someone else had been hurt here too but they didn’t scare me. I’ve seen worse.

Not anymore.

I curled under the blanket. It smelled like bleach and old air, but it wrapped around me like armor. Tonight was my pause. Tomorrow would be motion.

Tomorrow, I’d hit the road early and head to Vegas.

A new city.

A new name.

A woman who didn’t wait to be chosen, who chose herself instead.