Millhaven

(Sofia)

I woke up to Sunlight.

That was mistake number one.

Luca's apartment didn't have curtains. The whole wall was glass, and the morning light hit me straight in the face like it was trying to expose everything I had done last night.

I sat up fast with the sheet falling away, and immediately wished I hadn't. My head pounded. My body felt heavy in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

The bed was cold on his side as it was empty.

I swung my legs over the edge and found my clothes folded neatly on the chair. Even my underwear. Like this was a hotel and I was a guest checking out at 9 AM.

There was no sign of Luca and no note either. All I could spot was a glass of water and two painkillers on the nightstand.

I dressed up fast, not looking at myself in the mirror. I didn't want to see the version of me that had reached for his shirt like I had any right to.

I had to get out of here, I felt like a hooker.

When I opened the bedroom door, two men in black suits were waiting in the living room.

"Ms. Sofia," the taller one said. "Mr. Moretti asked us to take you home."

"I'm fine," I said. "I can get a cab."

"It's raining again," the other man said. "Mr. Moretti doesn't want you walking."

I walked past them both and headed for the door.

"Ms. Sofia—"

"I said I'm fine." My voice came out sharper than I meant it to. "Tell your boss thanks for the ride. I don't need a chauffeur."

Neither of them stopped me. They just stepped aside, like they had been told not to force it.

The elevator ride down felt longer than last night. I stared at the numbers, at my reflection in the metal, at the woman who looked like she had made the worst decision of her life and was trying not to cry about it.

Outside, the rain was light but cold. It soaked into my hair in seconds.

I didn't call a cab, no, I couldn't afford it so I started walking.

My phone was dead. My apartment was probably padlocked by now. I had ten dollars in my bag and a hospital shift in six hours but I would rather walk two hours in the rain than sit in the back of Luca's car feeling like I owed him something.

I could handle being broke. I could handle being scared. I could even handle my father disappearing and leaving me with debt I didn't understand.

What I couldn't handle was feeling like I had been easy.

Like one night of him looking at me like I mattered and I had forgotten every reason I should have walked away.

I was stupid, so stupid.

The city blurred past me. There were neon signs, closed shops, a guy asleep in a doorway with a cardboard sign. Nobody looked twice at me. That was fine. I didn't want to be seen.

By the time I reached my building, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. My building was a six-story walk-up that smelled like bleach and old curry. The elevator had been broken for three years.

I walked up the stairs panting, only to find someone at my door.

Mr. Ellis.

My father's creditor. The man who had been calling me twice a day for the last month, leaving voicemails that got shorter and angrier each time. He was in his fifties, sharp suit, cheap watch, face like he hadn't slept in a week.

He wasn't alone. A younger guy in a hoodie stood behind him, arms crossed. Intimidation 101.

"Ms. Rossi," Ellis said. He didn't look surprised to see me. He looked tired. Like this was just another Tuesday.

"What are you doing here?" My voice came out hoarse. I cleared my throat. "This is private property."

"This is a courtesy visit," he said. "You weren't answering."

"Because I don't have anything to say to you."

He stepped closer. Not close enough to touch. Just close enough that the hallway felt smaller. "Your father's account is 127 days overdue. Total outstanding: $48,300. With interest, it's $52,100."

I stared at him. "I told you, I don't have that money."

"No," he said. "You don't."

The younger guy shifted. I kept my eyes on Ellis.

"So what now? You break my kneecaps? That's illegal."

Ellis almost smiled. "We don't do that anymore, Ms. Rossi. Bad for business. We do paperwork."

He pulled an envelope from his jacket and held it out.

I didn't take it.

"Inside is a notice of foreclosure on your lease," he said. "The landlord filed this morning. You have 72 hours to vacate."

My stomach dropped.

"Also inside is an offer," he continued. "From Millhaven Collection Services. They've agreed to take over the debt. Freeze the interest for six months. No legal action if you comply."

"And what's the catch?"

"You move to Millhaven," he said. "Register the address. Check in monthly. Start payments in six months, minimum $400 a month. Miss two payments, and the freeze lifts. We go back to court."

"Where the hell is Millhaven?"

" It is upstate, about four hours from here. Population 8,000. One hospital, one high school, one diner that closes at eight." He said it like he had memorized it from a brochure. "It's a lot cheaper than New York, Ms. Rossi. You can work there. You can breathe there."

I laughed. It sounded broken even to me.

"You're sending me away."

"I'm giving you a way out," he said. "You don't take it, we file in civil court. Wage garnishment. Liens. Your credit's already shot, so that won't matter much. But you'll be unemployable in the city. Nobody hires someone with a judgment against them."

I looked past him to my apartment door. My home. The only place that still had my mom's photos, my nursing textbooks, the mug I had had since freshman year.

"Seventy-two hours," I said quietly.

"From now."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we do it the hard way," Ellis said. "But I don't think you want that. You're smart, Ms. Rossi. You know how this ends."

He dropped the envelope on the floor by my feet.

"You have until Friday to be gone. Millhaven Collection will contact you tomorrow. Don't make me come back."

He turned and left. The younger guy followed, giving me one last look like I was already a lost cause.

I stood there for a long time.

The envelope felt like it weighed fifty pounds.

When my legs finally gave out, I slid down the wall and sat on the cold tile. The rain outside was barely a whisper now. My hands shook as I opened the envelope.

Foreclosure notice. Legal jargon. A map of Millhaven circled in red.

Millhaven, NY.

Population 8,000.

I had spent my whole life trying to get out of small towns. My mom died in one. My dad's debt started in one and now I was being sent back.

I stood up with my legs unsteady, and picked up the envelope.

My apartment door was still locked. It was still mine for 72 hours so I let myself in.

The place was small, messy, lived in. Books stacked on the floor. Laundry over the chair. My mom's photo on the fridge, smiling like she didn't know what was coming.

I started packing.

What was the point of crying? It wouldn't stop the notice. It wouldn't pay the debt. It wouldn't bring my dad back to deal with this himself.

So I packed.

Two duffel bags. That's all that mattered. Clothes, toiletries, my nursing license, the photo of my mom. Everything else could burn.

I kept thinking about last night.

About how for ten minutes I had felt safe.

About how stupid that was.

I wasn't going to be another woman who mistook control for care.

He just slept with me and left without a word. Not even a note or his fricking number.

At 3 AM, my bags were by the door. The apartment felt empty already. Like it knew I was leaving.

I sat on the floor, back against the wall, and let myself feel it for the first time.

How I had let myself want him and now I was being exiled too.

New York chewed people up and spit them out. I just hadn't thought it would be my turn this fast.

Millhaven had one hospital. I could work there. I could keep my license. I could start over. It would be quiet and boring but safe.

No debt collectors on my doorstep. No men with dangerous eyes and expensive cologne.

That was the point, right?

I told myself that until my eyes burned.

At 5 AM, I set my alarm for six.

I had six hours to say goodbye to the only city I had ever called home and not a single person to say it to.