I’m breathing, but I don’t feel alive. – Liana
Liana
I woke up choking on air.
My body snapped upright before my brain caught up, and for a second—just one second—I didn’t know where I was.
The ceiling above me was wrong. Too high.
The blanket was too soft. Too warm.
And there was no chain on my ankle.
My heart pounded like it was trying to rip its way out of my chest.
My hands clenched the sheets.
I looked around in the dark, eyes wide, barely breathing.
Then—
A sudden shift beside me.
Elias
I felt her bolt up before I even opened my eyes.
The mattress jerked. Her breath was ragged, sharp.
I was already reaching for her.
“Babe?” I said, voice low, already awake.
She didn’t answer right away. Just sat there, fists clenched in the sheets, shoulders shaking like she was fighting something I couldn’t see.
“I dreamed I was still there,” she whispered. “But it wasn’t a dream. I could smell it. Hear the chains. I couldn’t get out.”
Fuck.
I slid behind her, wrapped my arms around her frame, kissed the back of her neck.
“You’re out,” I murmured. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
She shook her head. “What if next time you don’t? What if I break before you find me?”
“You won’t,” I said. “Because I’m not going to let go.”
Her voice cracked. “I don’t want to be like this forever.”
“You won’t,” I promised. “But even if you were… I’d still choose you. Every time.”
That’s when she finally leaned back into me, hands clutching my arms like I was the only thing tethering her to the present.
I held her tighter, kissed her shoulder.
“You don’t have to be okay right away,” I whispered. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight. Not ever.”
Liana
He was still here. He was with me.
The sun came up before I could fall asleep again.
But I still got out of bed.
Fed Miso. Changed his water bowl. Folded the blanket on the couch.
Everything felt normal and not, like I was playing house in someone else’s life.
The doorbell rang. Just as I reached for the front door—
“I’ll get it,” came a voice behind me.
I turned.
Elias stood in the hallway, shirtless but alert, eyes already scanning the entryway.
His hand hovered near the back of his waistband, reflex, even at home.
“It’s Alex,” I told him softly. She texted me.
He didn’t lower his guard until the door actually opened.
Then, with a quiet nod, he stepped aside.
A minute later, he walked into the kitchen with a muffin box.
Alex was behind him.
She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Still breathing?”
“Barely,” I muttered.
“I figured you probably didn’t sleep,” she said, already placing the coffees down on the kitchen counter. “And I know you’re too polite to text me at 3am.”
She sat like she always had. Like nothing changed. Like I hadn’t been missing for days.
“Here. Banana muffins. And you look like you need ten of them.”
I sat across from her. Held the cup. Didn’t drink.
Alex tilted her head. “How’s your heart?”
I stared at the cup. “Trying to feel safe. But my body doesn’t believe me yet.”
She nodded slowly. “That makes sense. You went through hell. Your body remembers. It’s just trying to keep you alive.”
I didn’t mean to cry. But I did.
She didn’t comment. Just let me wipe my face with the sleeve of Elias’s hoodie.
“You don’t have to rush to be okay,” she said softly. “You just need to show up for yourself every day. And let us show up for you too.”
Before she left, Alex pulled something out of her tote bag.
A small, softbound notebook.
“This helped me. You don’t have to look at it now. Just keep it nearby.”
I took it. Held it. Didn’t open it.
After Alex left, I curled up on the couch, knees tucked to my chest.
Miso lay beside me on the floor, breathing slow and steady.
I watched Elias in the kitchen, rinsing a glass.
The sunlight caught the edge of his jaw, the furrow between his brows, the way his shoulders moved with a kind of quiet focus.
My eyes followed him as he finished, dried his hands, and walked over.
He didn’t say anything.
Just pulled me gently into his arms, like he knew exactly where I needed to be.
I let myself fold into his warmth. Let my head rest against his chest.
And before I could even finish a thought, sleep took me.
After I woke up, I saw the notebook.
I opened to the first page. Picked up a pen.
Wrote: Day one. I’m still here.
