With Eleanor’s steady grip on my hand, I managed to stand, still shaking from the cold. Her presence alone felt like something solid enough to hold onto.
“Are you alright, dear?” she asked gently.
“Not really,” I admitted. “But I will be.”
“Let’s get you warm,” she said without hesitation.
She led me to her car, shielding me from the rain. Inside, the warmth hit me instantly, and for the first time that night, I could breathe properly.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“My place,” Eleanor replied. “We’ll sort everything out in the morning.”
As the car moved through the storm, I stared out at the blurred lights, exhaustion and emotion finally catching up to me.
“Emma,” Eleanor said softly, “you don’t have to go back to him.”
The words settled deep inside me.
“I know,” I whispered. “I just needed to hear it.”
She squeezed my hand. “You’re strong. And you’re not alone.”
We arrived at her home—a warm, quiet place that felt like safety itself. Inside, I was given dry clothes, tea, and space to finally stop holding everything in.
Sitting by the fire, wrapped in comfort I hadn’t felt in a long time, the night began to lose its sharp edges.
Eleanor looked at me calmly. “We’ll deal with everything tomorrow. For now, rest.”
And for the first time in a long time, I believed I could.
I was safe. And I was ready for whatever came next.
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