Chapter 221 Elena in prison

Chapter 221 Elena in prison
~Elena’s POV~

The photo was the only thing that felt real to me.

I sat on the edge of my thin mattress, looking at the picture Lora had sent. It came two days ago in a plain white envelope with no note. Just the photo.

Lisa was smiling.

She was sitting on a colorful mat, surrounded by toys. Lora’s twins were on either side of her, making silly faces for the camera. Lisa looked happy and healthy. Her cheeks were full, and her eyes were bright. She didn’t look like the tiny, fragile baby I had given up in the hospital.

I hadn’t seen her since the day she was born.

Five months. One hundred and fifty days. I had counted every single one.

The prison cell was small and cold. The walls were a dull beige, peeling at the corners. The air smelled like damp concrete and boiled cabbage from the cafeteria. At night, the buzzing lights kept me awake for hours. I learned to sleep with my arm over my eyes to block them out.

I ran my thumb over Lisa’s face in the photo.

She looked like me when I was little. Same dark hair and small nose. But her smile… that was all her own. She didn’t know pain yet. She didn’t know what it felt like to be abandoned by the person who was supposed to protect her.

I pressed the photo against my chest and closed my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

The words came out broken. I had said them so many times in my head that they started to lose meaning. But I still said them. Every single day.

A loud buzzer echoed through the hallway outside my cell. I quickly slipped the photo under my pillow and stood up. It was time for the afternoon walk. Thirty minutes in the yard if the weather was good. I pulled on the thin gray sweater they gave me and followed the line of women out of the block.

The hallway was narrow and loud. Voices bounced off the walls —some laughing, some arguing, some just talking to fill the silence. I kept my head down like I always did. I learned quickly that keeping to myself was safer in here.

Then I saw him.

Chris.

He was walking in the opposite direction with two other men. His head was shaved now, and he had lost weight. When our eyes met, he slowed down for just a second.

Neither of us spoke.

We hadn’t talked since the day I gave birth. Not once. Sometimes we passed each other like this close enough to touch, but we never did. The silence between us was heavy. It carried everything we had done together. Everything we had ruined.

I looked away first.

When I stepped outside into the yard, the cold air hit me hard. It was winter, and the wind cut through the thin uniform they made us wear. I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked along the fence line, away from the groups of women near the benches.

I found a quiet spot at the far end of the yard and leaned against the fence. The metal was freezing against my back, but I didn’t move. I pulled the photo out of my pocket again and stared at it.

Lisa was laughing in this one. Her little hands were reaching toward Lora, who was holding her. Chard stood behind them, one hand on Lora’s shoulder. They looked like a real family. Happy. Whole.

I had given that to them.

And I had taken it from myself.

A guard walked by and glanced at me.

“Five more minutes,” she said.

I nodded without looking up.

When the buzzer rang again, I folded the photo carefully and tucked it back into my pocket, close to my heart. I walked back inside with the others, my head down, my thoughts loud.

Back in my cell, I sat on the bed again and pulled the photo out once more. I traced Lisa’s face with my finger.

She would never really know me. She would grow up calling Lora “Mom” and Chard “Dad.” She would have birthday parties, school plays, and bedtime stories. She would be loved in ways I could never give her.

And I would be here.

Counting days.

Staring at a photo.

I pressed the picture against my chest and closed my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again.

This time, the words came out even quieter.

Because deep down, I knew sorry would never be enough.