Elena didn't sleep that night.
Every creak of the walls, every gust of wind brushing against the windows made her flinch. Her eyes stayed fixed on the door, half-expecting it to burst open at any moment. Her body was still, but her mind ran wild. The shadows weren't just shadows anymore. They were threats. They were them.
She sat there the whole night—curled up in a corner like a scared child, knees tucked to her chest, one hand clutching the phone that she never dialed.
Because she didn't want to need help again.
Not now.
Not after everything.
Morning light seeped through the cracks of the curtains, dull and slow. She didn't feel relief. Just numbness.
Cautiously, she got up. She walked to the door, unlocked it with trembling fingers, and opened it just a little—eyes scanning every corner, every inch of the street. Nothing. Still, she didn't breathe easy.
She made her way to Kalix's house—their workplace. Her steps were fast but her heart was louder. Beating. Warning.
And once she entered, she switched off everything inside her.
She didn't look at him.
She didn't greet the child.
She didn't smile at the helpers.
She just walked to the study, picked up the files, and buried herself in numbers and reports like they could drown out the fear still sitting heavy in her chest.
She only spoke when necessary—to the manager, in short, clipped sentences. No emotion. No space for weakness.
And when it was time to leave, she didn't say goodbye.
But she quietly placed a small box of cakes on the kitchen counter—for the child.
She knew the little one would look for her today… would ask where she went, why she didn't smile or play or sit with them like usual.
And that thought?
It broke her a little more.
Because the truth was—
She shouldn't have let herself get this close to them.
She shouldn't have let herself feel like she belonged.
Because when the monsters returned… she realized just how vulnerable she'd become.
And the scariest part?
She missed them already.
But she couldn't afford to need anyone. Not anymore.