Chapter Three — The Drop

Chapter Three — The Drop

Elena 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. Back to safety.

She wore a hoodie pulled low over her head and dark sunglasses, hoping to disappear into the routine of survival. Maybe if she moved fast enough, the panic wouldn’t catch her.

But the universe had other plans.

Her keys slipped from her hand as she stepped into the hallway. They clattered against the tile and slid forward, spinning slightly before stopping under a familiar pair of worn sneakers.

She froze.

Of course it had to be Jack.

“Hey,” he said gently, crouching to pick them up.

He looked the same as he had a few days ago—calm, a little scruffy, dressed like someone who didn’t overthink things. But the hallway suddenly felt too small. Too bright.

Elena tried to force a smile, but her hands were already shaking. Her body had begun to betray her before she could take a breath.

“You okay?” he asked, not unkindly.

“I’m fine.” She said it fast. Too fast.

Jack didn’t back off. But he didn’t press, either. He simply held her gaze with quiet concern. Like he wasn’t trying to fix her. Just… see her.

“Do you want me to walk down with you?” he asked.

“I’m not five.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

The words weren’t harsh, but they made something inside her twist. She could hear her ex in her head—mocking, belittling, twisting everything she said.

Her chest tightened. Her vision blurred. That familiar buzzing static began to rise, prickling behind her eyes and crawling across her scalp. Her breath came faster, shallower.

Not now. Please, not now.

She backed against the wall and sank to the floor, her knees drawn up to her chest, arms hugging tight around them. The hallway floor felt cold against her legs, but she barely noticed.

Jack didn’t move. He didn’t bolt like most people would. He just knelt beside her, hands resting loosely in his lap, like he’d done this before. Like he understood.

“Elena,” he said softly. “Can I sit with you?”

She couldn’t find her voice. Her head shook no—then yes—then stilled again in confusion. Everything felt jagged.

Jack sat. Quietly. No questions. No judgment. Just presence.

Minutes passed—or maybe just seconds. She couldn’t tell. Her body was a storm.

Then, after a long pause, his voice again. Gentle. Grounded.

“Can you breathe with me?” he asked. “In for four?”

She closed her eyes. Her whole body was trembling. But she gave one nod.

“One… two… three… four…”

He counted. Slowly. Softly. Not rushed. Not demanding.

She followed. The rhythm of his voice became something solid in the fog, something her panicked brain could cling to. Like Lily’s voice had once been. Like a lifeline tossed into dark waters.

The static dulled. Her lungs expanded a little more. Her fingers unclenched. Eventually, her cheeks were wet, the kind of tears that burned on the way out because they’d waited too long to fall.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, voice hoarse. “I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Jack said. His voice was certain. Not pitying. Just true.

“You don’t even know me.”

He looked at her then—not with fear, not with judgment. Just steady eyes that saw more than she wanted him to.

“No. But I’ve known enough broken people to recognize someone doing her damn best to stay afloat.”

That silence between them didn’t feel awkward. It felt like a bridge. A stillness that held space instead of demanding it be filled.

Eventually, Elena shifted. Her body still felt shaky, but she was upright again. Upright mattered.

Jack handed her the keys, his fingers brushing hers.

“I can go get the milk if you want,” he offered.

She blinked. His kindness hit her like a bruise—tender in a place she hadn’t realized was sore.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

He smiled—not smug, not flirtatious. Just real. “Because maybe someone should be.”

For a long time, Elena didn’t answer. She just looked at him, the hallway quiet around them. And in that moment, something inside her whispered a single word.

Maybe.