CHAPTER 2: BURIED NAMES
770 Words
ELENA'S POV
*Across the city*
I feel it before I see it.
That cold, creeping sensation like eyes on my back. Like the past has finally caught up.
Luca was asleep in the next room, snoring softly, his favorite stuffed bear curled in his arms. I sit at the kitchen table with my laptop open, staring at an email that should’ve never found me.
“He's looking for you”.
Just that. No signature. No context.
But I don’t need one.
I know exactly who it means.
Dante Moretti.
The man I ran from. The man I never told about our son.
And now he’s coming.
…
I haven’t said his name out loud in five years.
Not once.
Not when I held Luca for the first time in the hospital, shaking from the effort and grief. Not during the nights I rocked him to sleep, whispering lullabies I barely remembered. Not even when Luca asked if he had a daddy and I lied so smoothly it made my own stomach twist.
Now, just seeing that one line (He’s looking for you)makes my hands tremble.
I close the laptop, push it away like it burned me.
I don’t need confirmation. I know exactly who he is.
Dante Moretti.
The man I met by accident.
The man who changed everything in a single night.
The man who would tear my world apart if he ever found out the truth.
I walk to Luca’s room. My bare feet are silent on the wooden floor. He is still curled up, his dark lashes soft against his cheeks, mouth slightly open.
He’s beautiful, he’s innocent and he’s mine.
I crouch beside the bed and brush his hair back from his forehead.
“You’re safe,” I whisper. “You’re always safe.”
But I don’t believe it. Not anymore.
…
By morning, I had convinced myself it might have been a prank. Some old contact playing games. Maybe someone from my past who still knows my real name. But then an envelope shows up taped to my mailbox.
No return address. No stamps. Just my name scrawled in thick, black ink.
Not my real name.
My fake one.
The one I have used for the last five years.
I open it with a kitchen knife, slicing carefully across the top.
Inside are two photos.
One of me and Luca at the park—he’s on the swings, and I’m smiling. It’s recent. Too recent.
The other is of Dante.
Older. Sharper. Dressed in black, standing beside a car with his hand on the door, his eyes scanning the street like he owns the whole damn city.
My breath cuts.
It’s him. Still cold. Still intense.
But his face isn’t the same as I remember. It’s harder now,leaner,and angrier.
Always angry.
There’s no note inside. No message. But the message is clear.
I found you.
…
I didn't go to work that day. I kept Luca home from daycare too. We stayed inside, blinds drawn, my old burner phone powered up for the first time in years. I check every window, every door, every face on the street.
I hate it. I have lived a quiet life. Simple and Clean.
And now it’s crumbling.
Because of one night.
One stupid, reckless, beautiful night.
…
Five years ago
I was running then, too.
Different reasons. Same chaos.
I met him in a hotel bar. I wasn’t looking for anything. He wasn’t either. But we noticed each other, and the space between us closed up like it was never there to begin with.
He was magnetic,dangerous,gorgeous in a way that made your mouth go dry and your brain go stupid.
And he was… hurting.
I saw it in his eyes. Even when he was smiling, there was something in him that was broken.
So was I.
That night, we didn’t ask questions. We didn’t offer names. We just took.
And then I left after I found out who he truly was . I never thought I’d see him again.
I made sure of it.
…
Now, he’s coming.
And I can’t hide forever.But I can protect Luca.Even if it means running again.Even if it means facing Dante Moretti head-on.
…
Later that night, I heard something outside. A car, maybe. Slowing near the house.
I peek through the curtain. It’s black. Sleek. Definitely not from this neighborhood.
I don’t see who is inside. The windows are tinted.
But I know.
My heart slams against my ribs as the car stops, then pulls away.
He is watching.
He is waiting.
And he knows exactly where we are.
- Writer
