THE REGRET THAT BOUND HER

Kate’s kitchen smelled of cinnamon and honey —the warm, clinging kind that lingers long after the source is gone. “You’re pregnant?” Kate’s voice came out barely above a whisper. Emily stood in the middle of the kitchen, speechless. Tears streaked her face in silence. She opened her mouth twice, but no words came. Kate set the plate she’d been drying into the sink, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and crossed the room in three quick steps. “How did this happen? Emily, I warned you.” She sat beside her and gently brushed the tears from her cheek. “What did he say about it?”Emily let out a short, hollow laugh. “He asked me to abort it.” Her voice broke on the last word. She pressed both hands over her face and began to weep again. Kate rubbed slow circles on her back, frowning at the floor. Then, in the way only Kate could, her expression shifted.“I can’t believe it,” she muttered. “The nerve of that man.”A beat of silence. Then Kate nudged her with an elbow and a raised brow. “But he was good at it, right?” “Oh, come on, Kate.” Emily dropped her hands and stared at her. “Is that seriously what you’re focused on right now?” “Sorry, pookie. Come here.” Kate opened both arms, and Emily leaned into them, grudging but grateful. “We’ll sort this out together. I promise.”“I hope so,” Emily murmured against her shoulder.The moment didn’t last.Three heavy knocks rattled the front door— sharp, insistent, and wrong.Emily grabbed Kate’s arm. They both went still. The knocking came again. Her first thought was her uncle. What if he came for me? What if he found me? The apartment suddenly felt like paper walls. Every reassurance she’d built since arriving here dissolved in seconds. She pressed her hand to her stomach instinctively. “Wait here,” Kate said, gently detaching Emily’s grip from her arm. “I’ll get it.” Emily nodded, unable to speak. When Kate opened the door, Emily’s breath caught in her throat. A young man staggered inside. Dark-skinned, nearly six feet tall, wearing a bloodstained vest and torn blue shorts. Bruises mapped his arms and neck. A cut across his brow had already begun to dry. He looked like he’d survived something that should have killed him.He swayed. Kate lunged forward and caught him before he hit the floor, dragging him toward the couch with a grunt. Emily stood frozen at the kitchen doorway, unsure whether to step closer or run. • • • They kept watch over him through the night. Kate lasted three hours before she folded sideways on the second couch, asleep despite herself. Emily stayed awake, seated across from the stranger, re-wrapping his wounds by lamplight. One day. I’ve been gone from my uncle’s house for exactly one day. She reached for a fresh length of bandage and leaned in.His hand came out of nowhere and slapped the back of hers.Emily jerked back in shock. The table beside her tipped; syringes, gauze, and antiseptic scattered across the floor. A shard of glass caught the skin beneath her toe.She stared at the thin line of blood welling up, then calmly reached for a wipe. “Can’t you take it easy?” the stranger muttered, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. “Ungrateful,” Emily said under her breath. She dabbed at her toe without looking at him. “So you’re going to pretend that it didn't hurt?” “Of course it didn’t.” She got to her feet, collected her phone from the table, and turned toward the hallway. "You'll be fine without me.”She closed her bedroom door firmly behind her. “Whoa!”She heard his muffled protest through the wall and ignored it. • • • Some time after midnight, the wind picked up. It came in through the gap in the living room window and sent the curtains slapping against the sill. The young man reached up to pull them shut and knocked a framed photograph off the shelf. It hit the floor and shattered.In the confusion, his foot came down on a piece of glass, directly on the wound that had just begun to close. “Argh!” Emily was in the hallway before she’d consciously decided to move.“Are you okay?” “Yeah.” He pressed his lips together. “Great. Better than ever. At least I was, until you showed up.” Emily exhaled through her nose. She crossed the room, guided him to the couch, and lifted his foot onto her lap without a word. She worked in silence, cleaning and re-dressing the wound with the same steady hands as before.He watched her. “Where did you learn to do that?” he asked, after a while. She kept her eyes on the bandage. “My mother used to help a neighbor after he had a home accident. I paid attention.” “That’s… actually impressive.” She glanced up, surprised by the lack of sarcasm. His expression had shifted. Something quieter lived there now. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Let me see which photo broke.” She gathered the pieces. It was a family photograph; a beach, somewhere sunny. Emily was small in it, clutching her mother’s hand at the center. Her father stood to the left, his arm around his heavily pregnant wife. Uncle John and Aunt Rachael flanked the edges, their children between them, gripping beach toys. Emily’s hand stopped moving.She stared at her uncle’s smiling face in the photograph and felt the familiar coldness close around her chest. Still following me, even here. She flipped the photo face-down, set the pieces aside, and stood up too quickly. Her eyes burned.She was almost at the veranda door when she heard him rise behind her. She wiped her face before she turned.“You should be resting,” she said. “I will.” He stopped beside her and leaned against the railing, looking out at the street below. “But I want to know what just happened. When you looked at that photo.” “Nothing happened. I got emotional.” “You’ve been crying since you got here. That’s not nothing.” He turned to face her. “Why are you lying?” She crossed her arms. “So now I have a stalker.” “Not a stalker. Your nurse has a wound and I don’t know where it is. That seems like my business.” He paused. “Come on, Emily. I’m being serious.” She looked out at the street for a long moment. The city was quiet at this hour. Peaceful in the way that felt borrowed. “Fine,” she said at last. “I’ll tell you. But don’t be quick to judge me.” “I won’t. Spill.”