Scars She Carries, Love She Deserves

Chapter One — StaticIt started the same way it always did.Elena Grey sat motionless on the edge of her bed, her fingers digging into her thighs as if they could anchor her. Her lungs tightened, breath shallow. The room spun, yet nothing moved. The world was happening around her—but her body was locked in a storm only she could feel.“Get out… I need to get out… I can’t be here…”The words never made it past her lips.She saw the room. She knew where she was. She was in her apartment—safe, quiet, warm. A lavender candle flickered nearby, her daughter’s soft breathing floated from the next room.But inside her mind, it was chaos.The past wasn’t just a memory. It was a living, breathing force.Brandon’s voice echoed in her head, acidic and sharp.“You’re pathetic.” “You’re worthless.” “You’re lucky I even married you.”Her body remembered things she didn’t want it to—how his shadow stretched across their bedroom wall when he stumbled in drunk, how she learned to read his moods by the

Chapter Three — The DropElena hadn’t slept.Lila had a rough night—nightmares, stomach aches, endless questions about when she had to go back to her father’s. The kind of questions that made Elena feel like the floor had been pulled out from under her heart.“Why can’t I just stay here forever?” Lila had asked, curled up beside her at 2 a.m., her small voice laced with confusion and longing.Elena didn’t have an answer. At least not one that would make sense to a six-year-old. So she just held her daughter tight, whispered that she was loved, and counted the hours until morning.By the time dawn crept in, Elena’s body felt like it was held together by threads. Her eyes ached. Her nerves were fried. Her chest carried the familiar weight of exhaustion laced with guilt, like she was already behind before the day had even begun.She just needed milk. That was it. One quick trip downstairs to the mailbox cluster and the convenience shelf. Five minutes of motion. Then back to the apartment

Chapter Five — The Weight of WordsIt was late.Lila was at her dad’s for the weekend—a fact that sat like a stone in Elena’s chest. The apartment was too quiet without the chatter of cartoons, the mess of glitter glue, or the pitter-patter of tiny footsteps thumping from room to room.Elena hated the silence.It left too much room for memory.She sat curled on her balcony, hoodie drawn tight over her knees, fingers wrapped around a chipped mug of lukewarm tea. The steam had long since faded, but she couldn’t bring herself to go back inside. The air was cold, but not biting—just enough to sting her skin and remind her she was still here.From next door, a soft voice broke the quiet.“You always sit out here alone?”She turned slightly, startled—but not afraid.Jack leaned on the rail of his own balcony, his elbows resting on the edge. His silhouette was backlit by the glow of his kitchen. His eyes looked tired, like hers, but kind. Grounded.He didn’t smile. He didn’t tease.He just w

Chapter Seven — Safe Rain draped the world in gray. It whispered against the windows like a song half-remembered, calming but distant. The kind of weather that made the world shrink in on itself and feel both softer and sadder all at once.Elena stood in her kitchen, slowly stirring a pot of soup she hadn’t planned to make. The warmth from the stove curled around her, mixing with the scent of rosemary, garlic, and something almost like hope.She had cleaned more than necessary—wiped down the counters twice, fluffed the pillows on the couch. Lila was at school. The apartment was quiet in a new way. Not lonely. Not buzzing with ghosts.Just… calm.Jack was coming over.He’d offered to fix the hinge on the hall closet. She had said yes. Not because she couldn’t do it herself—but because, for once, she wanted to let someone else care.When the text came—“Outside when you’re ready”—her heart skipped, not with fear, but with anticipation.She opened the door and there he was, standing bene

Chapter Nine — Her VoiceThe first time Jack met Elena’s family, she nearly canceled.Not once. Not twice. Three separate times.She paced the living room, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the screen, rehearsing excuses with the ease of someone who had spent years masking anxiety with logic.Lila might be coming down with something.The weather looked unpredictable.Her mom might be too tired.Each lie was believable. Each one a shield she could raise to protect the fragile thing she and Jack were building.But deep down, she knew the truth.She was scared.Scared of what they’d think.Scared they’d see how much Jack meant to her.Scared they’d ask too many questions, or worse—none at all.Scared they’d ruin it.Scared she would.She stood by the window, watching Jack buckle Lila into the car, his fingers gentle as he adjusted her straps and handed her a juice box with the kind of patience that felt rare in this world.And then she turned to see Lila in the living room, spinning in