You got a phone on you this whole time
1150 Words
Lucia led Elena down the narrow hallway, their footsteps soft against the old wooden floor. The familiar scent of soap and worn fabric wrapped around Elena like something she had not realized she missed.
“This way,” Lucia said, pushing open a small door.
The bathroom was simple. A metal bucket sat beside a low stool. A thin towel hung on a nail.
Elena stepped inside slowly.
“It hasn’t changed,” she murmured.
Lucia leaned against the doorframe. “Nothing here ever really changes.”
Elena gave a faint smile.
A few minutes later she stood over the bucket and washed the rain and blood from her skin. Pink water swirled around her feet and disappeared down the drain. The cold made her shiver, but she welcomed it. For the first time since leaving the DeLuca house, she felt like she was rinsing away ten years of silence and shame.
When she stepped out, Lucia was waiting with a clean set of clothes.
“Here,” she said. “These should fit.”
“Thank you.”
They returned to Lucia’s room and sat side by side on the small bed. For a moment neither of them spoke.
Lucia turned slightly, studying her.
“How has it been?” she asked softly. “The family that took you in.”
Elena let out a slow breath.
“All these years,” she said quietly, “they treated me like a slave.”
Lucia’s expression darkened.
Elena looked down at her hands.
“I thought of coming back many times,” she continued. “But I did not want to seem ungrateful. I kept telling myself to endure it.”
Her lips tightened slightly.
“But today… they chased me out.”
Lucia’s fingers curled into fists.
“And that is how I met the man I brought here,” Elena added.
Silence settled between them.
Then Elena shook her head lightly.
“You know what,” she said, forcing a small smile. “Forget about those things.”
She turned to Lucia.
“How have you been, sissy?”
Lucia’s face softened immediately. A gentle smile appeared on her lips.
“I have always missed you,” she said. “I thought you forgot about me. I thought you would never come back.”
Elena reached out and squeezed her hands.
“I am so sorry,” she said, her voice low. “I missed you so much.”
Lucia did not answer with words. She simply pulled Elena into a tight hug. For a long moment they stayed like that, breathing together, the years of separation melting between them.
Elena held on just as tightly, eyes closed, letting herself believe—for the first time in a decade—that she was finally home.
After a moment Lucia pulled back slightly and looked at her.
“You should be hungry,” she said.
Elena nodded.
“I am.”
Lucia opened her mouth to speak—
The door burst open.
A small boy stood there, breathing fast, his shirt too big for his thin frame.
“Elena!” he said. “The man you brought is asking for you.”
Elena blinked in surprise.
“For me?”
The boy nodded quickly.
Elena stood up at once.
“I will be right there.”
She turned to leave, but Lucia caught her hand.
“Be careful,” Lucia said, her voice firm.
Elena met her eyes and nodded.
“I will.”
She walked out of the room and down the hallway, her steps steady.
When she reached the door she paused for a second, then pushed it open.
Inside, the room was quiet.
The man lay on the bed, his stomach wrapped in clean bandages. His clothes had been changed. His face looked calmer, though still pale.
The caretaker stood beside him.
She turned the moment Elena entered.
“Elena,” she said.
Elena’s face lit up instantly.
Without thinking, she walked forward and wrapped her arms around her.
“Mrs. Clara,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. “I missed you. You have not changed at all.”
Mrs. Clara smiled gently and patted her head.
“We missed you too, Elena,” she said. “We thought you might visit one day… but not like this.”
Elena pulled back slightly, smiling faintly.
Mrs. Clara glanced at the man on the bed.
“He is stable now,” she said. “You can talk.”
Elena nodded.
“Thank you.”
Mrs. Clara gave her one last look before leaving the room.
The door closed softly behind her.
Elena turned.
The man was awake.
His eyes were already on her.
She stepped closer.
“Mister,” she said, “what is your name?”
He raised an eyebrow slightly, studying her.
“My name is Damiano,” he replied.
“And yours?”
Elena smiled.
“My name is Elena.”
She was about to speak again—
He coughed.
“Water,” he said, voice rough.
Elena immediately turned, walked to the table, and poured water into a glass.
“Here.”
She handed it to him.
Damiano pushed himself up slightly. A quick wince crossed his face, but he controlled it. He took the glass and drank quietly.
After a moment he lowered it.
“Thank you.”
Elena smiled faintly.
“You are welcome.”
She hesitated for a second, then spoke again.
“Damiano… do you have family members we can call?” she asked. “We should tell them where you are. They can take you to a proper hospital for better treatment.”
Damiano did not answer immediately.
He simply stared at her.
His gaze was steady. Intense.
Elena frowned slightly.
“What?” she asked.
He still did not respond.
Inside his mind, thoughts moved quickly.
No woman had ever spoken to him like this.
No fear. No hesitation. No attempt to impress him.
Just direct words.
Is it because she does not know who I am?
Would she still speak like this if she knew?
Would she step back?
Would she be afraid?
The questions came one after another.
Then he finally spoke, the corner of his mouth lifting the tiniest fraction.
“Of course,” he said. “I have family.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone.
Elena froze.
Her eyes widened.
Then she looked at him, disbelief written all over her face.
“So you had a phone on you this whole time?”
Damiano said nothing.
Elena folded her arms.
“Why did you not just book a ride from that alley?” she asked, voice rising with exasperation. “You almost got me killed by those men chasing you.”
Damiano looked at her.
For a second Then, unexpectedly
A faint smile touched his lips.
- Writer
