With Eleanor’s support, I stood despite still shaking from the cold. She guided me to her car, wrapping me in her steady presence as the storm raged on.
Inside, warmth slowly returned to my body. For the first time that night, I felt safe.
Eleanor told me I didn’t have to go back to Michael. The words broke something open in me—but also gave me relief.
“I just needed someone to say that,” I whispered.
She squeezed my hand. “You’re not alone.”
We drove to her estate, where her home glowed like a sanctuary in the rain. Staff helped me change into dry clothes and brought me tea.
Sitting by the fire, I finally began to breathe again. Eleanor promised we would handle everything in the morning.
And for the first time, I believed I could face what came next.