Chapter 9
1250 Words
Travis POV
I didn’t sleep.
Not really. I tossed and turned most of the night, my pillow feeling too warm and the sheets too tight. My mind wouldn’t stop running flashing with Emma’s face, her shaking hands, her eyes red and scared and so full of something I couldn’t fix.
I kept seeing her on that bench, the way she looked up at me when I found her. Like part of her expected me not to care. Like she thought she didn’t matter.
But she did. God, she did.
I’d wrapped my coat around her that night because she looked so cold not just on the outside but deep inside too. Like her heart had been sitting in the snow for too long.
And I hated that I didn’t know how to help her.
When morning came, I skipped shaving. My stubble itched, but I didn’t care. My coffee tasted bitter. The usual emails waiting on my phone looked like static. I went through the motions like a machine suit, keys, car but my mind was stuck on one thing.
Emma.
Was she okay? Had she eaten? Did she sleep at all?
I walked into the office later than usual, not caring what Vanessa or anyone else would say about it. The second I stepped in, I scanned the room and there she was. Sitting at her desk like nothing happened. Hair pulled up neatly, back straight, eyes locked on the computer screen.
But I could tell. I could tell she wasn’t okay.
Her skin looked pale. Her shoulders too stiff. Her smile well, there wasn’t one.
I crossed the room before I could stop myself.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re okay,” I said.
I hadn’t planned to say that. It just came out. Soft. Real.
Her eyes met mine, wide and surprised. “I’m fine,” she whispered. But her voice wavered. Barely held together.
“No, you’re not.” I didn’t mean to push. But I had to let her know I saw her. That I wasn’t blind to the storm behind her eyes.
“You don’t have to do this alone.”
Her mouth trembled. She blinked hard and nodded like she was trying to keep herself from falling apart right in front of me. And watching that watching her struggle to stay strong it hurt more than I expected.
I wanted to fix it.
But I didn’t even know what it was yet.
So I stayed close that day. Quietly. I didn’t hover or talk much. I just… watched her. Every time her fingers hesitated over the keyboard or her eyes drifted toward the window, I noticed. I couldn’t help it.
Meetings came and went. Numbers, budgets, proposals. None of it felt real. Not compared to the weight sitting behind her eyes.
And yet she worked. She didn’t complain or ask for anything. She just kept pushing forward like someone trying to outrun something invisible.
It made me want to run after whatever was chasing her and destroy it.
I don’t know how many times I caught myself staring at her. I’d glance up in the middle of a sentence and see her brushing hair behind her ear, or adjusting her chair, or biting her lip in that way she did when she was thinking too hard. I’d snap out of it and force myself to look away.
But it was hard. Because something had shifted. I didn’t just see Emma anymore.
I felt her.
When the day wound down and people started packing up, I stepped out of my office, trying to act normal. Vanessa appeared beside me, laughing at some joke I didn’t hear. Her hand brushed against my arm, but I didn’t react. I didn’t want to.
Because my eyes were already on Emma.
And then, before I could say anything, she was gone. I caught a glimpse of her walking out, fast and quiet, head down.
Something wasn’t right.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I reached for it out of habit. Work email. Something about a client call. I ignored it.
I kept looking at the door where she’d just left, wondering if I should go after her. But what would I say? “I see you”? “I’m worried”? “I want to protect you even if I don’t fully understand what’s going on”?
She’d probably shut down. Maybe even push me away harder.
Vanessa was still standing there, still talking, though I hadn’t heard a single word.
“Sorry,” I cut in. “I have to uh, check something.” I walked back into my office and closed the door before she could follow.
I sat down hard and let out a breath.
Something was going on. Something more than just a bad night in the park. And I had a feeling it wasn’t over.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. I’d never felt this helpless in my life. I could buy out companies, turn a failing division around in a month, hire and fire at will. But when it came to Emma, I didn’t know what I was doing.
I just knew I didn’t want her to be scared anymore.
And I didn’t want to lose her to whatever darkness was following her.
An hour passed. Maybe two. I sat there thinking, replaying the way her voice cracked when she said she was fine, the way she rushed out without looking back.
I didn’t like it.
I pulled out my phone and almost texted her.
Are you okay?
But I erased it. I didn’t want to push.
Then I typed again.
Did you make it home safe?
Deleted that too.
Everything I wanted to say sounded either too much or not enough. And that’s when it hit me I wasn’t scared of saying the wrong thing.
I was scared of how much I wanted to say the right one.
I locked my phone and stood up.
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That night, I barely ate. I tossed my dinner in the trash after a few bites and poured myself a glass of scotch. It didn’t help.
I sat at my window, city lights blinking in the distance, wondering where she was. What she was doing. If she was okay. If she was scared.
I didn’t like not knowing.
I hated not knowing.
And I hated even more that she might not trust me enough to tell me.
But I couldn’t blame her.
I’d been cold. Distant. Confusing. One minute I was pulling away, the next I was wrapping my coat around her like she meant something.
Because she did. And I think she always had.
I picked up my phone again and opened her contact. I stared at it for a long time.
Still nothing.
No message from her. No call.
But I didn’t need a text to know something was wrong.
I could feel it.
Something had started between us, and neither of us knew what it was yet. But it was real. And now it was tangled up with fear, silence, and whatever threat was hanging over her.
I promised myself one thing before going to bed that night:
I wasn’t going to let her go through this alone. Not anymore.
Even if she pushed me away.
Even if she didn’t believe in me yet.
Because I was going to be there when she finally did.
And when that day came… I’d be ready.
- Writer
