Chapter 75 34 missed calls, 22 messages
Elena's POV
I didn't know what peace felt like anymore until the plane wheels touched down in Lisbon and the world suddenly seemed slower, gentler, almost like it had been waiting for me to arrive. The moment I stepped out into the cool morning air, something in my chest loosened-like a knot I'd been carrying for months had finally surrendered.
I didn't tell anyone I was leaving. Not my mother, not my coworkers, and definitely not Damian. Especially not him. I didn't owe explanations anymore. I was exhausted from explaining, exhausted from loving carefully, exhausted from being careful with everyone else except myself.
Brian handled most of the check-in at the hotel, leaving me to stare blankly at the lobby's huge mural of the Portuguese coast. Soft blues. Calm whites. Nothing like the emotional storm I'd left behind.
"You okay?" Brian asked, gently touching my elbow.
I nodded, though I didn't feel okay at all. My body felt foreign. My mind felt suspended. And beneath all that, the quiet reminder pulsed: I was carrying a baby I wasn't sure I wanted... a baby whose father had just gotten engaged to someone else.
When we got to the room, I sank onto the bed with a long, shaky breath.
"I'm going to get us some food," Brian said. "Just rest. I'll be back."
I didn't argue. I didn't have the strength to.
The door clicked shut, and the silence swallowed me whole. I lay back, staring at the ceiling, letting the pounding in my head settle. The exhaustion wasn't physical anymore; it was spiritual, emotional, the kind that makes your bones feel heavy.
My phone buzzed from inside my bag.
I ignored it.
Then it buzzed again.
Still ignoring.
Then it rang.
I froze. I knew who it was. I could feel it, like a vibration beneath my ribs.
Damian.
I let it ring.
He called again.
And again.
After the fifth call, it went silent, replaced by a notification:
34 missed calls
22 messages
My throat tightened. For a moment, I imagined answering, listening to him breathe, hearing him say my name the way he used to. Then I remembered the look on his face when he told me-so casually, as if it meant nothing-that he was engaged to Rachael.
My stomach twisted.
I turned the phone off.
I didn't come here to be dragged backwards.
The next morning, I woke up to sunlight spilling through the curtains and the unfamiliar scent of Mediterranean air. For the first time in days, I hadn't cried myself to sleep. Maybe it was the distance. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the baby reminding me silently that I had to survive, not collapse.
Brian knocked lightly and peeked in.
"You're awake," he said with a small smile. "Good. I was about to come drag you out of bed."
I gave a weak laugh. "Please don't. I'm fragile."
"You're strong," he corrected. "Even when you're breaking."
I looked away.
He sat down beside me. "We don't have to talk about anything yet. But fresh air will help." He paused, then added softly, "You don't have to be alone in your thoughts."
The tears threatened again, but I blinked them back.
We spent the day wandering aimlessly near the coast. The streets were lined with pottery shops, tiny bakeries, and musicians playing soft guitar melodies. Kids ran barefoot by the beach. The world felt so uncomplicated here. I envied them.
At lunch, Brian finally spoke.
"I know you're hurting," he said gently.
I stared at my untouched food.
"And you can pretend it's just about Damian," he continued softly, "but I think it's everything. The baby. The pressure. The guilt."
My eyes stung. "I don't know if I want this child," I whispered, voice barely audible. "I don't know if I can... or if I'm ready. It feels like my life is spinning and I can't hold onto anything."
"You don't have to decide today," he said. "You don't have to perform strength for anyone. Not even for me."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
We walked in silence for a while after that. Not awkward. Just... healing.
Later that evening, while Brian showered, I stepped onto our balcony overlooking the ocean. The wind was cool, brushing against my skin like reassurance. I placed a hand on my stomach-not out of love, not out of fear, but out of acknowledgment. This was happening. My life was changing. Whether I wanted it to or not.
For a moment, I thought about Damian again-the man who had once made me feel seen and safe, now the same man who had destroyed that safety in one sentence.
You got engaged? You what?
His voice replayed in my head. My entire body tightened.
I leaned forward on the railing, breathing deeply.
Here, no one knew me. No one knew my mistakes. No one knew my heartbreak.
Here, I could finally think without being swallowed by everyone's expectations.
When the door slid open behind me, I didn't turn. I could tell by the footsteps it was Brian.
He didn't speak. He simply slipped his jacket around my shoulders and stood beside me.
After a long silence, I whispered, "I don't know if I'll ever be the same after this."
"You're not supposed to be," he said quietly. "You're growing. In more ways than one."
And for the first time, instead of fear, I felt a strange, soft warmth in my chest-like hope, or the beginning of something new.