Ten Minutes
1210 Words
Elara finished showering long after the rest of the house had gone quiet.
The water had been running for a while, long enough for steam to collect on the tiled walls and soften the sharp edges of the bathroom mirror.
She stood beneath the spray with her eyes closed, letting the heat sink into her shoulders and down her spine, as though warmth alone might loosen the tension that had taken up residence in her body over the past several weeks.
When she finally reached out to turn the faucet off, the silence that followed felt heavier than the noise had been.
She stepped out of the shower slowly, wrapping a towel around herself and catching her reflection in the mirror.
Her face looked the same as it always had—familiar, composed—but her eyes told a different story.
There was something unsettled in them, something that refused to rest even now, in the quiet safety of her own home.
She looked away before she could think too deeply about what that meant.
After drying off, she pulled on her nightwear—an old cotton shirt she had owned since college and a pair of soft shorts—and moved back into her bedroom.
The room was dimly lit by the small lamp on her nightstand, casting warm shadows across the walls.
Everything about the space felt familiar and grounding, which only made the weight in her chest more noticeable.
She crossed the room and let herself fall back onto the bed, landing flat on her back with a soft exhale.
The mattress dipped beneath her weight, the sheets cool against her skin. For a moment, she simply stared up at the ceiling, listening to the distant hum of the house settling for the night.
Her mind, however, refused to follow her body into rest.
The past few weeks replayed themselves without invitation—her father’s arrest, the fear that had sat permanently in her throat, the hospital corridors that smelled faintly of antiseptic and worry. And threaded through all of it was one unavoidable truth she still struggled to accept.
She had agreed to that deal.
The realization surfaced again, slow and unwelcome, tightening something deep inside her.
No matter how many times she revisited it, the memory still felt unreal, as though it belonged to another version of herself—someone more desperate, more cornered, more willing to gamble everything for one fragile outcome.
She turned her head slightly on the pillow, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“I really did that,” she murmured to herself, her voice low and disbelieving. “I actually agreed.”
After a moment, she reached for her phone on the nightstand, more out of habit than any real intention.
The screen lit up the darkened room as she unlocked it and began scrolling absentmindedly through social media
Photos and videos passed by—people smiling at dinner tables, complaining about work, sharing moments that felt painfully ordinary.
The normalcy of it all made her chest ache.
She switched apps, then paused.
A headline caught her attention.
Her movements slowed as she read it once, then again, her heart beginning to race as the words truly sank in.
She sat up, pushing herself against the headboard as she read more carefully, her eyes scanning every line as if afraid the truth might vanish if she blinked.
Her father’s name was there.
Vindicated.
Cleared of all wrongdoing.
For a long moment, she could do nothing but stare at the screen.
Then her shoulders sagged as a breath left her chest, long and unsteady, like something heavy had finally been set down.
“Oh,” she whispered, emotion swelling unexpectedly. “Thank God.”
She leaned back against the pillows, clutching the phone loosely in her hand while a small, genuine smile spread across her face.
Relief washed through her in slow waves, loosening a knot she had been carrying for far too long.
Her eyes burned slightly, and she blinked hard, not quite willing to let herself cry—but the feeling was there, warm and overwhelming.
At least this was over.
At least her father’s name had been cleared.
She read the article again, slower this time, allowing herself to absorb the details.
When she finally set the phone back down, she turned onto her side and hugged one of the pillows to her chest.
For the first time that night, her breathing evened out, and her eyelids grew heavy.
Maybe she could sleep now.
She reached over to turn off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, and closed her eyes.
And she was just about to proceed to the other side her phone rang like it f*****g rang.
And Elara jolted upright almost instantly, irritation flaring hot and sharp.
She groaned and dragged a hand over her face, then grabbed a pillow and shoved it aside with more force than necessary.
“Seriously?” she muttered. “Who calls someone this late?” As she tried to turn over to the other end of the bed probably hoping the ringing would die down
but the ringing continued severally, and relentless.
Her annoyance tipped into anger as she reached for the phone and glanced at the screen.
The name staring back at her made her lips curl into more flit of anger.
Of course it had to be him.
And she answered without bothering to soften her tone.
“What?” she snapped.
There was a brief pause on the other end before Damien’s voice came through, smooth and maddeningly calm. “That’s no way to speak to your employer.”
She scoffed, sitting up straighter. “You are not my employer. And it’s past eleven. Why are you calling me?”
“I need you here,” he replied evenly. “In ten minutes. I’ll send you the address.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You can’t just—”
But the line had gone dead.
And she stared at the phone for a moment, stunned, then let out a short, humorless laugh.
And a second later, a message notification appeared with an address attached.
She dropped back onto the bed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.
“What the hell did I sign myself up for?” she groaned.
But before she could spiral any further, a knock sounded at her door.
And she froze in fear wondering if it was her father.
But then a second knock followed, gentler this time.
“Elara?” her mother’s voice came through softly. “Are you okay? I heard you yell.”
Her stomach dropped and she breathed a sigh of relief.
She sat up quickly, forcing calm into her voice. “Yeah I’m fine, Mom I just… startled myself.”
There was a brief pause, then, “All right,” her mother said. “Try to get some sleep.”
“I will,” Elara replied. “Good night.”
When the footsteps faded down the hallway, she exhaled slowly and leaned back against the pillows, staring into the darkness.
Ten minutes she whispered to herself.
As she glanced at the address again, her jaw tightening up with annoyance
- Writer
