Chapter 64 The hollow echo
The door groaned on its hinges as I pulled it open, bracing for the sharp sting of the rain. The wind whipped a spray of cold water onto my face, but I barely felt it. My eyes were fixed on the figure standing under the flickering porch light.
It wasn’t the sharp silhouette of Mrs. Jenkins, nor the broken, leaning frame of Liam.
It was Monica.
She stood there, drenched to the bone, her blonde hair matted against her pale skin. She was propped up on a pair of silver crutches that looked identical to the ones Liam had used earlier. One leg was encased in a heavy medical boot, and a dark, purplish bruise bloomed across her cheekbone like a tragic flower. She was shivering so violently that the metal of her crutches rattled against the wooden porch.
"Monica?" I breathed, the shock momentarily paralyzing me. "What are you doing here? When were you even discharged?"
"Elena..." her voice was a thin, rasy thread, nearly lost to the roar of the storm. "Please. I didn't know where else to go."
I didn't hesitate. Regardless of the history, the jealousy, or the suspicion that had rotted my mind for months, the nurse in me took over. I reached out and grabbed her arm, guiding her inside. She dragged her injured leg across the threshold with a grimace of pure agony, the sound of the medical boot thudding heavily on the linoleum.
Maya appeared behind me, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of the woman who had been at the center of the wreck that ruined our lives. She didn't say a word, but she moved quickly to fetch a dry blanket.
"Monica, sit down. You’re freezing," I said, helping her into a kitchen chair. "What’s wrong? Why aren't you at the recovery center?"
Monica sank into the seat, her breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. She looked up at me, and for the first time, I didn't see a rival. I saw a woman who had survived a war.
"I had to find him, Elena," she whispered, clutching the blanket Maya draped over her shoulders. "I’ve been trying to reach out to Liam since I got out this morning, but I’ve had no luck. I even went to his apartment... but the door was unlocked, and the rooms were empty. I think he’s gone. I think he moved."
I felt the air leave my lungs. "Moved? I just saw him an hour ago, Monica. At a restaurant. He didn't say anything about moving."
"The other tenants said a van came while I was still being processed for release," Monica said, a tear tracing a path through the rainwater on her face. "They said he cleared out everything. I called his phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. You’re the only person I thought of. I thought... maybe you knew."
I stood there, my mind struggling to digest the information. The timeline was shifting again. Liam had seen me, said his piece, and then vanished.
"Elena?" Monica called my name, sensing my withdrawal.
"I... I haven't heard from him since the restaurant, Monica," I snapped back, my voice trembling. "He told me he was helping you. He told me about your husband... about the abuse."
Monica nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to her bruised hands. "He saved me, Elena. Not just from the car. He helped me gain my kids back by law. He found a pro-bono lawyer while he was still in that hospital bed. He gave me the evidence I needed to prove what my husband was doing. He’s the reason I’m able to move back to Willow Creek tonight."
"Willow Creek?" I repeated, the name of the quiet, western village sounding like a faraway dream.
"It's where my mother lives," she said. "It’s safe there. But I couldn't leave without saying my last goodbyes. I wanted to thank him properly. I wanted to tell him that because of him, my children will never have to hide under a bed again."
She looked at me with an expression of such raw, earnest gratitude that it made my stomach turn with a fresh wave of guilt.
"Please, Elena," she pleaded, reaching out to touch my hand with her cold fingers. "When he reaches out because he will reach out to you tell him for me,or send me his new number so I can thank him fully for saving my life. You are truly blessed to have had a man like him, even if things changed. He’s a good man, Elena. One of the few."
I couldn't find my voice. I could only nod slowly as I helped her back to her feet. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, the heavy thunder receding into a low, grumbling echo.
"Goodbye, Elena," Monica said as she navigated her crutches back toward the door. "And congratulations on the baby. I heard... I heard the news at the clinic when I was checking out. I hope your new life is as beautiful as the one Liam tried to give you."
I watched her limp down the driveway and into a waiting taxi, her silhouette disappearing into the mist. I stood in the doorway for a long time, the damp air clinging to my skin. The "better future" Liam had talked about wasn't a lie. The "noble" story wasn't a script. He had been a hero in a story where I had cast him as the villain.
And now, he was gone. He had said his goodbye at the table, wiped his slate clean, and disappeared into the night, leaving me with the truth and a heart full of ash.
I turned back into the kitchen. Maya was standing by the counter, leaning against the sink with a deep, weary sigh. She looked at the puddle of rainwater Monica had left behind, then at me.
"You never get a break from the problems, huh, El?" she said softly.
I didn't answer. I walked to the table and picked up my phone. Still no word from Turkey. No word from the man who was currently under a knife. No word from the man who had just vanished.
I sat down and put my head in my hands. The house was quiet again, but the silence wasn't a sanctuary anymore. It was a hollow echo of all the things I had misunderstood. I was pregnant with the child of a man I loved, while the man I had once loved had sacrificed his reputation to save a stranger and then walked away without asking for a single thank you.
The inventory of the day was finally over, but as the last of the rain tapped against the window, I realized I had never been more lost in my life.