With Eleanor’s help, I stood up, still shaking from the cold. Her warmth felt like hope. “Are you alright?” she asked. “Not really… but I will be,” I admitted.
She took me to her home, a place of warmth and safety far from Michael. As we drove through the rain, my thoughts swirled—anger, sadness, and confusion.
“You don’t have to go back to him,” Eleanor said gently.
“I know… I just needed to hear it,” I whispered.
At her house, I was wrapped in dry clothes and given tea. Surrounded by warmth and quiet, the pain began to fade.
“We’ll deal with everything tomorrow,” she said.
For the first time in a long while, I felt safe—and strong enough to face whatever came next.