Chapter Twenty-One: Something With My Name On It
It was late.
Elena sat at the kitchen table, her own in her hand ,her notebook open but blank. Her fingers rested lightly on the page, unmoving.
She hadn't written a word in days.
It was the kind of silence she hated—one that came not from emptiness, but from holding too much inside.
She closed the notebook. Pushed it aside. Sipped her tea.
Then she heard it: footsteps. Slow, steady.
Aiden.
He didn't say anything at first. Just leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching her.
"I didn't know you still wrote," he said finally.
She glanced at the notebook. "I don't. Not really."
"That's a lie."
She raised an eyebrow. "You read minds now?"
"No." He stepped forward. "But I read this."
He held out a small book. Leather-bound. Worn at the edges.
Her notebook.
The one she thought had been lost weeks ago—probably during the move. She hadn't even thought to look for it.
She frowned. "Where did you get that?"
"It was in the car," he said. "Between the seats. I thought it was a planner at first. Then I saw your handwriting."
She took it slowly, fingertips brushing the cover. "You read it?"
"I read two pages."
"And?"
He swallowed. "I stopped. Not because it wasn't good. Because it felt like something sacred."
She looked at him,really looked at him and he looked too sincere she couldn't take it….
That wasn't what she'd expected to hear.
"I didn't know you wrote like that," he added, voice softer now. "It's not polished. It's raw. Honest."
"It wasn't for anyone else."
"I know," he said. "That's what makes it better."
---
She sat down, the notebook still in her hands.
He didn't move to leave.
"Why now?" she asked. "Why bring it to me tonight?"
"Because I wanted to remind you," he said, "that before all this—before headlines and rings and missing sisters—you were someone."
She blinked.
"And I see her now," he added.
"I'm still her."
"I know. But I think I forgot."
He stepped back.
"I'm not asking you to forgive anything. Or to stay. I just needed you to know—I'm not choosing you because she left. I'm choosing you because you're here. And because when I read your words... I felt something I haven't felt in years."
"What?"
"Honest."
---
She sat with that.
Let it settle.
Then, without meaning to, she flipped to a dog-eared page.
One she barely remembered writing.
"I want someone to know me and stay anyway."
Her throat tightened.
She closed the book.
"Aiden." she called even as her throat was all choked up.
She didn't want to hide anymore.
He looked at her.
No walls. No posture,just waiting— vulnerable
"I don't need promises," she said. "I don't even need answers."
He nodded. "What do you need?"
She looked down. Then back at him.
"Something that has my name on it. Just mine."
He held her gaze. "Then I'll give it to you."
He didn't touch her. Didn't reach for her hand.
He just said it—and meant it.
And that was more intimate than any kiss.
---
ELENA'S POV
Later, when she lay in bed, the notebook sat beside her pillow.
She didn't write.
But she didn't feel blocked, either.
Something inside her had shifted.
Not healed.
Not finished.
But maybe...
Maybe ready.