“Pay the rent or get out!”

Two days later she left through a side exit, moving slowly, still sore. Daniel picked her up, and the social worker made sure she wasn’t exposed in the main lobby. Outside, late sunlight stretched shadows across the parking lot.

“Your temporary apartment is ready,” Daniel said softly. “Small. Safe. As long as you need.”

“Safe,” Evelyn repeated, tasting the word like it belonged to someone else’s life.

That first evening in the one-bedroom unit, silence pressed in—wide, unfamiliar, almost loud. She stood by the window, watching a quiet street, trying to convince her body it didn’t need to brace for impact.

Daniel brought groceries, set them down, and didn’t crowd her. “You don’t have to be okay today,” he said. “Just breathe.”

“I’m trying,” she admitted.

A knock later made her jerk upright. Heart racing, she checked the peephole—then exhaled. A police officer.

“Miss Carter? We’re following up. Your father’s been issued a temporary restraining order. He’s been warned not to contact you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice shaky.

After he left, she sat very still on the couch. The fear wasn’t gone. But it wasn’t the only thing left in her chest anymore.

Then her phone buzzed again.

Unknown number.

One line:

“I need to explain. Just once. —Dad”

Evelyn stared until her eyes blurred, then set the phone down like it could burn her.

Daniel arrived minutes later with takeout and instantly read her face. “What is it?”

She handed him the phone. He read the message, jaw tightening. “You don’t owe him anything,” he said. “Not a reply. Not a chance.”

“I know,” Evelyn whispered. “But I still feel guilty.”

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