Chapter 11: The Fear of Losing Her

The first day Gwen didn’t show up, Elliott ignored the sinking feeling in his chest.

People got busy. Things happened.

Maybe she had other patients to check on. Maybe the asylum had given her a different shift.

It was fine.

But when the second day passed, and there was still no sign of her—it wasn’t fine anymore.

Elliott sat in the dim silence of his room, staring at the door, waiting.

Waiting for the sound of her footsteps.

Waiting for the familiar creak of the door opening.

Waiting for her.

But the door never opened.

The third day was worse.

By then, the fear had fully sunk its claws into him.

Because Elliott knew what happened to the people he let get too close.

They died.

They were ripped away from him.

His mother.

Lily.

Maggie.

And now—Gwen.

He couldn’t breathe at the thought.

Had his father found out? Had he seen the way Gwen was getting closer, the way she was pulling things out of Elliott that no one else had? Had he decided she was a problem—just like the others?

Elliott’s fingers trembled in his lap, his nails digging into his palm.

He should have known better.

He should have kept her at a distance.

He should have never let her get close.

Now she was gone, and it was his fault.

The thought shattered him.

His head dropped, his body curling in on itself as he pressed his face into his hands. His silent sobs wracked through his chest, sharp and violent, shaking him to his core.

There was no noise, no sound—there never was—but the pain was real.

He had let himself care.

And now he was alone again.

Just like his father wanted.

Just like he deserved.

Then—

The door creaked open.

Elliott barely registered it at first.

His body was still trembling, his mind still drowning in grief.

But then—

The scent hit him.

Soft. Faint. Familiar.

Flowers.

His breath caught.

Slowly, cautiously, he lifted his head—his vision blurred from the tears burning in his eyes.

And there, standing in the doorway, was Gwen.

Alive.

Whole.

And in her hands—

A bouquet of purple hyacinths.

Elliott froze.

For a moment, his brain refused to process it.

She was here.

She wasn’t dead.

His father hadn’t found her.

She was standing in front of him, her brows furrowing slightly as she took in the state he was in—his hunched posture, the redness around his eyes, the silent wreckage of emotions still raw across his face.

“Oh, Elliott…” Gwen’s voice was barely a whisper as she stepped forward, concern flooding her expression. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Elliott didn’t move.

He was still caught between relief and disbelief.

His heart was hammering so violently he thought it might break him apart.

She was alive.

She was here.

And she was holding his mother’s flowers.

Gwen knelt beside his cot, setting the bouquet gently on the bed between them. Her green eyes searched his face, her voice soft with guilt. “I didn’t mean to disappear. I—I had to take care of something, and they switched my schedule for a few days.” She swallowed, her gaze flickering with realization. “You thought—”

Elliott looked at her with wide, exhausted eyes, his chest still rising and falling unevenly.

Yes.

He had thought she was dead.

That she had been taken from him like the others.

That he had let himself care again only to lose her, too.

Gwen sucked in a quiet breath, something aching behind her expression.

Then, without hesitation, she reached out and took his trembling hands in hers.

Her fingers were warm. Steady.

She squeezed gently, grounding him, reminding him that she was real.

“I’m here,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Elliott just stared at her.

He could feel it happening again.

That pull.

That dangerous, terrifying, beautiful pull toward her.

And this time, he didn’t think he could stop it.

---

Elliott’s hands were still trembling in Gwen’s grasp.

She could feel the way his fingers twitched slightly, the way his breathing was uneven, as if he were still struggling to convince himself that she was really here.

Then, slowly, he pulled his hands away, only to lift them between them.

His movements were hesitant at first, his fingers slightly unsteady.

Then, he signed—

“Don’t leave me again.”

Gwen’s breath caught.

She hadn’t expected those words.

Not from him.

Not from the boy who had spent the past year keeping his emotions buried beneath silence and carefully placed walls.

She searched his face, taking in the subtle way his jaw tensed, the way his blue eyes held an intensity that sent a shiver through her chest.

He was serious.

This wasn’t just him saying, I missed you.

This wasn’t just loneliness.

This was fear.

Raw. Real. Unfiltered.

Elliott Delacroix was afraid of her being gone.

And Gwen didn’t understand why.

She swallowed, glancing down at their hands before looking back at him. “Elliott, I wasn’t trying to—” She hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I wouldn’t just leave you without a reason.”

Elliott’s fingers twitched before he signed again, quicker this time. “Promise me.”

Gwen inhaled slowly.

He was pleading with her.

Not demanding. Not asking for attention.

This was different.

Something in his voice—if he had a voice—would have cracked with emotion.

And she didn’t know why.

Didn’t know what exactly he was afraid of.

Didn’t know what he was hiding.

But she knew one thing.

Whatever it was—whatever haunted him so deeply that the thought of her leaving him had driven him to tears—it wasn’t something she could just push.

She couldn’t push him.

Because it was too great for him to simply explain.

So, instead, she did the only thing she could do.

She nodded.

“I promise.”

Elliott’s shoulders slumped, the tension in his body loosening just slightly.

But his eyes—his sharp, watchful eyes—still held something dark beneath them.

Something Gwen didn’t have the full picture of.

And she wasn’t sure if she ever would.

So, she reached for the bouquet she had brought and placed it in his lap.

“They’re for you,” she said softly. “Since you told me about them last time.”

Elliott stared down at the purple hyacinths, his fingers brushing gently over the petals.

And then—he smiled.

It was small. Fleeting. Almost unnoticeable.

But Gwen saw it.

And for some reason, she felt her own heart react in a way she didn’t quite understand.

She had promised not to leave him.

And somehow, somewhere deep inside, she had a feeling that keeping that promise would change everything.

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