All Chapters of She was never his to own: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The bedroom was dark, the kind of dark that came just before dawn, when the city was still asleep and the only sound was Sofia's soft breathing through the monitor. Elena lay curled on her side, her hand tucked under her pillow, her face peaceful in the dim light from the window. She was dreaming of something gentle—the sea, maybe, or the horizon she had been painting.Alexander lay beside her, still as stone. He had not slept.His eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling. The ceiling was white, ordinary, the same ceiling he had stared at for hours. But he wasn't seeing it. He was seeing another ceiling. Another room. Another morning.The morning he woke up in the hospital.---The memory came without warning, the way memories always came now.He was lying in a narrow bed, tubes in his arms, a bandage around his head. The room was white, sterile, smelled of antiseptic and fear. His mother was in a chair beside him, her face drawn, her eyes red. She was holding his hand."Alexander," she w

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. Sofia was asleep down the hall, Mr. Fluffy tucked under her arm, dreaming of whatever six-year-olds dreamed about. The city lights glowed beyond the window, the same view Elena had looked at for years. But tonight, everything felt wrong.She sat on the couch, her legs tucked under her, a book open in her lap. She wasn't reading. She was watching Alexander.He was in the armchair across from her, his phone in his hand, his thumb scrolling through nothing. He had been scrolling for twenty minutes. The screen hadn't changed. He wasn't reading anything. He was pretending.He had been pretending for days.Elena set the book down. "Alexander."He looked up. His face was pale, his eyes red. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. "Yeah?""What's going on with Marcus?"---The question hung in the air.Alexander's thumb stopped scrolling. His jaw tightened. He set the phone down on the arm of the chair, faced her."What do you mean?""Don't do that." Her v

The studio smelled like oil paint and turpentine, the familiar scent that always settled Elena's nerves. But today, nothing settled her. She had been here for hours, standing in front of the new canvas, the empty one, the one she couldn't seem to fill. Her brush hovered over the white expanse, searching for the first stroke. Nothing came.Her mind was elsewhere. At Rosa's house, where Sofia was playing in the backyard. In the kitchen, where she had left Alexander standing alone. On the rooftop, where Marcus had whispered secrets she didn't understand.She set the brush down. Rubbed her temples.The door opened."Elena? You in here?"Marcus's voice. She turned. He stood in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee, a tentative smile on his face."I brought you something." He held out the cup. "Thought you might need it."She took it. "How did you know I was here?""Sarah mentioned you were working this afternoon." He walked into the studio, looked around at the paintings leaning against

The drive to Rosa's house took twenty minutes. Elena didn't remember any of it. The city blurred past—streets she knew, lights she had seen a thousand times—but her mind was blank, frozen, the way a computer freezes when it tries to process too much at once. Her hands were steady on the wheel. Her face was dry. She had stopped crying somewhere on the highway.Sofia sat in the back, Mr. Fluffy tucked under her arm, watching the world pass."Mama, where are we going?""To Grandma's.""For how long?"Elena glanced in the rearview mirror. Her daughter's face was curious, not worried. She didn't know. She didn't understand. She was six, and her world was still simple."A few days," Elena said. "We're going to have a vacation.""With Grandma?""With Grandma."Sofia smiled. "Can we make cookies?""We can make cookies."The rest of the drive was quiet. Elena's phone buzzed in her bag. She didn't look. She knew who it was. She knew what he would say. I'm sorry. I love you. Please come home.Th

The room was gray with dawn. The curtains were thin, and the parking lot light had faded, replaced by the soft, cold light of early morning. Elena lay still, her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. She had not slept. Not really. Her body had been there, in the bed beside Alexander, but her mind had been somewhere else. Replaying the night. The fight. The fury. The desperate, angry sex that had felt like goodbye.Beside her, Alexander was asleep. His breathing was slow, even. His face was soft, the lines of worry smoothed away. He looked younger like this. He looked like the man she had fallen in love with, before the lies, before the secrets, before everything.She watched him for a moment. Then she sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and began to dress.Her clothes were scattered on the floor—her shirt, her jeans, her underthings. She picked them up one by one, put them on. Her hands were steady. Her heart was not.Alexander stirred behind her."Elena?"She didn't turn. "