Seventeen Days Left

Chapter Four

The next morning, . Julian was sitting at the dining table with his laptop open, scrolling through financial reports while sipping black coffee. I walked down the stairs slowly, using my slender wooden cane. Every step felt measured and calm.

When I reached the bottom, Julian looked up. His eyes scanned my outfit a simple black blouse and comfortable trousers. A trace of approval flashed across his face, as if he thought I was finally returning to my senses.

"Good morning, Eleanor," Julian said, his voice softer than it had been last night. "I ordered breakfast from your favorite bakery. Come and eat. We need to talk about what happened at the gallery."

I walked over and pulled out a chair opposite him, sitting down without a word. "There is nothing to talk about, Julian. The gallery exhibition went well, and my designs were well-received. That is all."

Julian closed his laptop with a sharp click. "That is not all, Eleanor. You embarrassed me and you insulted Chloe. She has been crying for two days because of how you spoke to her. All she wants is to help you heal, and you treat her like an enemy."

I picked up my fork and stared at the food on my plate. The numbness in my chest was spreading, turning into a deep, cold clarity. For three years, every argument ended the same way: Chloe's tears were real, but my pain was just a tantrum. Chloe's feelings mattered, but my dignity meant nothing.

"Julian," I said softly, looking straight into his eyes. "Dr. Vance is your ex-girlfriend. She stays at your apartment, she calls you late at night, and she acts like the lady of this house while I am still your legally married wife. And you expect me to sit back, smile, and welcome her into my life?"

"She is a professional psychologist!" Julian raised his voice, his patience finally snapping. "Why are you so obsessed with the past? We broke up years ago. My relationship with Chloe is purely platonic and medical. She is helping you get over your trauma, but you are too stubborn and insecure to see it!"

Platonic. Medical. The words tasted like ash in my mouth.

"If you say so," I whispered, lowering my gaze. I didn't want to fight him anymore. Arguing with a man who refused to see the truth was like shouting into a void.

Julian let out a long, frustrated sigh. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted. "Look, Eleanor, I have a busy day at the office. Chloe is hosting a charity gala tonight, and I expect you to come with me. Wear something appropriate, and please leave the cane at home. You can walk short distances without it if you just try."

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Leave the cane at home. He still wanted me to hide my flaws, to pretend I was whole, all to satisfy his and Chloe's image of perfection.

"Alright," I answered quietly. "I'll be ready."

Julian looked surprised by my quick agreement, but he nodded, satisfied that he had won the argument. He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and walked out the front door.

As soon as his car engine faded down the driveway, I pulled out my phone. Eighteen days left.

I called Sarah immediately. "Sarah, do we have the final confirmation for my apartment lease?"

"Yes, El! Everything is signed and paid for," Sarah's voice came through the speaker, full of excitement and support. "The keys are with me. Whenever you're ready to walk out of that cage, your new life is waiting."

"Thank you, Sarah," I murmured, a genuine smile touching my lips for the first time in days. "Just a few more days."

That evening, I dressed for the charity gala. I wore a long, elegant navy blue gown that pooled around my feet. And yes, I left the wooden cane behind, exactly as Julian had asked. I wanted to see how far his cruelty would go when left unchecked.

When Julian picked me up from the front porch, he looked at my navy dress and nodded with approval. "You look beautiful, Eleanor. See? When you try, you look just like my wife."

His wife. A title he used like a leash.

We arrived at the grand ballroom of the city's luxury hotel. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, and wealthy couples danced slowly to soft music. As soon as we stepped inside, Chloe rushed over to greet us. She wore a stunning white evening gown that looked like a wedding dress.

"Julian! You're here!" Chloe smiled brightly, slipping her arm naturally through Julian's right arm. She barely glanced at me, her eyes locked on Julian. "The donors are waiting for you in the VIP lounge. Come with me."

Julian hesitated for a second, looking down at me. "Eleanor, can you find a seat near the edge? I'll be back in ten minutes."

Before I could answer, Chloe tugged gently on his arm. "Oh, hurry, Julian. Director Evans is already there."

Without waiting for my reply, Julian let himself be pulled away into the crowd. I stood alone in the middle of the crowded ballroom. Without my cane, standing for long periods put intense pressure on my left knee. The dull ache quickly turned into a sharp, burning pain, shooting up from my knee to my hip.

I bit my lower lip, trying to find a chair along the edge of the room. But the tables were packed, and people kept bumping into me in their expensive gowns and sharp suits. My chest began to tighten. The air in the grand ballroom felt thick, suffocating, and heavy.

Panic cold and sharp crept up my throat. It was the same panic I felt every time I was trapped in a dark space or overwhelmed by crowds.

I needed air. I needed to get outside.

I turned around, trying to walk toward the exit doors near the terrace. But my left knee buckled under the sudden weight and pain. I stumbled, catching myself against a tall marble pillar. A sharp gasp escaped my lips.

Not far away, Julian was laughing at something Chloe said. He turned his head and saw me leaning against the pillar, pale and struggling to breathe.

Instead of running over to help me, Julian frowned. He whispered something to Chloe, and then he walked slowly toward me, his face set in a stern, disappointed expression.

"Eleanor," Julian said, his voice low and firm as he stopped in front of me. "What are you doing? Why are you making a scene in the middle of the ballroom?"

I looked up at him, my vision blurring slightly from the rising panic. "Julian... my leg... I can't breathe... I need to go outside..."

Julian crossed his arms over his chest, remembering Chloe's psychological advice word for word. "Eleanor, stop this. You're just giving in to anxiety. Chloe told me this would happen. You are relying on panic to get attention. Take a deep breath. Control your mind. You are fine."

I stared at him in disbelief. I was standing there, suffocating, shaking from pain and fear, and the man I saved with my own body was standing there lecturing me like a schoolteacher.

"Control... my mind?" I gasped out, clutching the cold marble pillar for support. "Julian, please... just help me outside..."

"No," Julian said coldly, standing his ground. "If I help you now, I am only feeding your weakness. Stand up straight, Eleanor. Take a deep breath on your own. You can do it."

Around us, a few guests began to whisper and look over, pointing at my pale face and trembling posture. Chloe stood a few feet away, watching with a quiet, satisfied smile hidden behind her champagne glass.

Something inside my chest snapped. The last remaining thread of love, of hope, of lingering attachment to this manit all burned away into nothingness.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing my legs to straighten. The pain in my knee flared white-hot, but I gritted my teeth and stood on my own two feet. I looked straight into Julian's cold, handsome eyes.

"You're right, Julian," I whispered, my voice shockingly calm despite the storm inside my chest. "I can do it on my own."

Julian looked surprised by my sudden composure, thinking his tough love had finally worked. A faint hint of smug satisfaction crossed his face. "See? I told you. You just needed to push through it."

"Yes," I said quietly, stepping past him without another word. "I did."

I walked away from him, walking straight toward the exit doors and out into the cool night air. Seventeen days left.