The days that followed were a blur of restless nights and exhausting mornings. Elena had become a master at hiding the weariness that was eating away at her. On the outside, she had the appearance of someone who was moving forward, but on the inside, she was still reeling from the shock of everything that had transpired.
She spent her mornings trying to adjust to her new routine. Her tiny apartment, once a temporary haven, had now become a reminder of the life she'd lost. The walls, pale and devoid of any real personality, felt suffocating. Elena had never imagined she'd be here, in this place of loneliness, forced to rebuild from the ashes of her broken marriage.
Yet, as the days went on, something within her began to stir. A sense of purpose started to form, albeit hesitantly. The visit to the doctor had given her the cold dose of reality that she hadn't wanted to face. But it also gave her clarity. Her life was fragile. It was fleeting, and if she was going to make it through, she had to take control.
She had spent years catering to Damien's every need, adjusting herself to fit his world, always bending, always breaking, until there was nothing left of the woman she once was. That woman—confident, independent, and passionate—had been buried beneath layers of guilt, love, and fear. But Elena had seen the truth now. She was no longer going to be a shadow of someone else.
After that doctor's visit, her thoughts had turned to practical matters. The possibility of treatment weighed heavily on her, but more than that, she realized she couldn't waste time. Life had just slapped her in the face with the reality of mortality, and now was her chance to live for herself, to take control of her own fate.
Elena pulled herself out of bed each morning with a purpose. She hadn't shared the news with anyone—not yet, at least. The only thing she allowed herself to express was the determination to move forward, no matter the cost.
She decided to return to work. At first, the thought of facing her old colleagues, people who had known her when she was still "Mrs. Ashford," terrified her. But she couldn't sit in her empty apartment and wallow in misery any longer. The fear of judgment, the whispers of pity, all of it seemed so irrelevant now.
Elena had been a designer for a local firm before her marriage to Damien. Her career had been her passion—something that had brought her joy before she'd become consumed by the world Damien had built for them. As she slipped into her old office, the familiarity of it brought back memories of a time when she had dreamed of making it big in the fashion industry. She had worked tirelessly to build a reputation, and though she had let it slip during her years with Damien, she knew that part of her life was still there, waiting to be revived.
The office was quiet when she entered. Only a few of her colleagues were there, and none of them seemed to notice her arrival at first. Elena stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the view—the clean lines of the workstations, the hum of the printers, the familiar scent of fresh paper and coffee. It was comforting, in a way, but it also reminded her of all that she had lost.
Finally, her assistant, Jenna, looked up from her desk. "Elena? You're back?"
Elena gave a small, uncertain smile. "I needed to be. I'm ready to get back to work."
Jenna stood and approached her, her eyes full of curiosity, but also concern. "Are you sure? You've been through so much lately. If you need time—"
"I don't have time," Elena said softly, cutting her off. "The world doesn't stop, and neither should I."
Her words seemed to echo in the room, and for the first time in weeks, Elena felt like she was speaking to herself as much as she was speaking to Jenna.
She settled into her old workspace and began going through the designs she had left behind. The sketches, the fabric swatches, the unfinished projects—they were all still there, waiting.
It was strange, looking at the life she had once worked so hard to build. The same designs, the same fabrics, the same goals—yet the person she had been was so different now. She was a woman broken, betrayed, and left with nothing but a past she couldn't erase.
But she didn't want to erase it.
Elena had spent enough of her life trying to escape her reality, trying to smooth over the pain of her marriage with Damien, trying to pretend that everything was fine when it wasn't. Now, she was done pretending.
That afternoon, she sat in a meeting with her team. They had projects to discuss, designs to finalize. Elena hadn't lost her touch—her ideas still flowed effortlessly, and the team responded to her vision. They hadn't forgotten the designer she used to be. The passion she had for her work, the fire in her eyes, all of it was still there.
As the meeting progressed, Elena found herself getting lost in the work again, the pressure of deadlines, the excitement of creating something beautiful. It was almost like a different world, one where she could forget the pain for a little while. And for those few hours, she did.
By the end of the day, Elena was exhausted but also oddly fulfilled. The emptiness inside her had not disappeared, but it had been pushed aside, buried beneath layers of work and the rush of creativity.
When she returned home that evening, she felt a sense of accomplishment. The apartment was still small, still cold, but it was hers. And that thought gave her strength.
But that night, as she sat alone on the couch, the weight of everything came crashing back. The betrayal. The hurt. The uncertainty of her future.
She hadn't yet told anyone about her diagnosis. She couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud. She was still processing it herself, still fighting to make sense of what had happened.
But she would tell them soon. She would tell them when she was ready.
Elena closed her eyes, resting her head against the back of the couch. Her thoughts drifted to Damien, as they often did, though she hated herself for it. She had once thought that their love was unbreakable, that he was the one who would always be there for her. But now, all that was left was the bitter taste of betrayal.
For a moment, she let herself feel the sadness—the raw ache of a love lost. But then she wiped the tears from her eyes and stood up.
She wasn't going to be his victim anymore.
Elena had a new plan now. A plan for herself, for her future, for the woman she was going to become. No one—not Damien, not anyone—was going to take that from her.
"I will survive this," she whispered to the empty room. "I'll do it for me."
And with that, she stepped forward, ready to face whatever came next.