CRACKS IN THE GLASS

Morning sunlight poured into the kitchen, pale and uninvited. Alina stood by the sink, watching the coffee drip, her hands trembling slightly. Every sound in the apartment felt amplified — the clock ticking, the faucet dripping, the faint hum of the refrigerator. Nathan was still asleep upstairs, and she was grateful. His silence was the only peace she had left.

She wrapped her fingers around the cup, trying to steady them. Her reflection in the window looked unfamiliar — hollow eyes, a tight jaw, a woman learning how to be invisible.

He’d said he loved her again last night.

He always said it after the storm, when the calm returned like an apology. She’d stopped believing it weeks ago, but she’d learned to nod, to whisper it back, to play the part of the woman he wanted her to be. It was safer that way.

The trick, she had realized, was to make him think he still controlled her.

Nathan came downstairs around nine, freshly showered, wearing that easy smile the world loved. “Morning, beautiful,” he said, kissing her cheek. The scent of his cologne made her stomach twist.

He handed her a piece of paper — a list of errands. “I need you to pick up a few things today,” he said, sliding his hand over hers. “And don’t take too long. You know I worry.”

She nodded, eyes downcast, the perfect obedient partner. But inside, she was calculating. Every errand was an opportunity. Every trip outside was a crack in the glass cage he built around her.

“Of course,” she murmured.

Outside, the world felt alive again. The air was cool, the sky open. For the first time in months, she breathed without fear of who might be watching.

She stopped by the pharmacy first — not for the vitamins Nathan wanted, but for a cheap prepaid phone. The cashier, a young woman with tired eyes, didn’t ask questions. Alina slipped the phone into her bag, her heart pounding.

At the grocery store, she lingered in the aisles longer than necessary, memorizing every exit, every security camera. It wasn’t paranoia anymore — it was strategy.

By the time she returned home, Nathan was already waiting, leaning against the counter, arms folded. His smile was there, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

“There was traffic,” she replied softly. She placed the bags on the counter, careful not to meet his gaze. He studied her for a long moment before stepping forward, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“I don’t like when you lie to me, Alina.”

Her throat tightened. “I’m not lying.”

He smiled again — that terrible, practiced smile — and kissed her forehead. “Good. Because you know what happens when you do.”

That night, after he fell asleep, Alina crept out of bed and sat by the window. The city lights flickered below, tiny dots of life she no longer felt part of. She opened the prepaid phone, her hands shaking, and dialed the only number she could remember — her sister’s.

It rang twice before a sleepy voice answered. “Hello?”

Tears welled up instantly. “Mira…” she whispered.

There was silence, then a sharp inhale. “Alina? Oh my God, where have you been? We’ve been calling for months!”

Alina’s voice broke. “Please… don’t tell anyone you heard from me. Not yet. I just need—” She hesitated, the fear pressing down on her chest. “I need to know if I still have a place to go.”

Mira didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

Alina closed her eyes. For the first time in a long time, hope hurt more than fear. “I can’t leave yet,” she said quietly. “Not until I have proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“That everything he’s done… everything he is.”

Her sister’s voice was trembling now. “Alina, just leave. Please.”

“I can’t. He’ll find me.” She took a deep breath. “But if I can show the police who he really is, he’ll never touch me — or anyone — again.”

Over the next few weeks, Alina lived two lives.

By day, she was the quiet, obedient girlfriend, cooking dinners, laughing at his jokes, pretending nothing was wrong. By night, she became someone else — cautious, alert, deliberate. She recorded conversations on her phone, hid a camera behind a bookshelf, kept a small notebook under the floorboard near her dresser.

Nathan’s temper grew worse as she grew calmer. He didn’t understand that her silence was no longer submission — it was strategy.

He started checking her phone, her messages, even her purse. Once, when he found a receipt for the prepaid SIM card, she told him it was for work. He didn’t believe her, but her tears distracted him long enough for her to slip the real phone into her boot.

Every moment was a gamble, every word a test. But with each risk, she felt herself coming back — the woman she used to be, the one who could plan, fight, survive.

One evening, while Nathan was in the shower, Alina opened his laptop. She had never dared before — he guarded it like a secret. But she had memorized his password weeks ago.

Her hands trembled as the screen came to life. Emails. Messages. Bank transfers. At first, nothing seemed unusual. Then she found a folder buried under work documents. Inside were photos — not of her, but of other women. Smiling. Crying. Unconscious.

Her blood ran cold.

Each file was labeled with a name and a date.

For a long moment, she couldn’t breathe. She had always known he was capable of cruelty, but this — this was monstrous. And it confirmed what she’d feared: she wasn’t his first.

And if she didn’t stop him, she wouldn’t be his last.

That night, as Nathan slept, Alina stood in the doorway watching him. The moonlight carved harsh lines across his face — the face she once loved, the face she now hated.

She whispered, almost to herself, “You taught me what fear is. Now I’ll teach you what it feels like to lose everything.”

For the first time in months, she smiled — not the smile of a victim, but of a woman who had nothing left to lose.

And that made her dangerous.