I felt my body shiver slightly as I took a sip of my iced coffee, the cold rushing through me and making me shake for a second. Even something small like that felt refreshing after everything that had happened.

  Being able to walk around my own home again felt incredible.

  No hospital bed.

  No concrete floor beneath me.

  No sterile smell hanging in the air.

  Just my room. My desk. My space.

  I pulled the chair out and sat down, the familiar creak of it making me smile a little as I leaned forward and pressed the power button on my PC.

  The fans hummed to life and the monitors slowly lit up, the glow filling the room as the system began booting up.

  It felt strange seeing it again after so long.

  "I don't even know if I wanna stream..." I muttered to myself, taking another sip of the iced coffee while the computer loaded.

  The idea of turning the camera on and talking to thousands of people after everything that had happened felt... exhausting.

  Then another thought hit me.

  My eyes drifted toward the icon on the desktop as it appeared.

  Elden Ring.

  I stared at it for a moment before letting out a long sigh and leaning back in my chair.

  "I'm never completing that game, am I?" I mumbled to myself.

  "What a stupid game," I muttered under my breath.

  I moved my mouse across the screen and clicked open my browser instead, deciding to forget about it for now. The familiar homepage loaded, and a moment ter I logged into my Twitch account for the first time in what felt like forever.

  It only took a few seconds for everything to load.

  And when it did—

  My inbox was completely flooded.

  "Oh boy..." I let out quietly, leaning forward a little as I clicked on the inbox button.

  The page refreshed and a massive wall of messages appeared.

  One name immediately stood out.

  catlover666

  My eyebrows lifted slightly as I stared at the number beside the conversation. Over a thousand messages. The timestamp stretched across days and weeks, filling the entire message preview column.

  I rolled my eyes and clicked on the chat.

  The messages loaded instantly, filling the screen with a chaotic stream of text. As I scrolled, more and more appeared—confessions, desperate questions, angry accusations, random rambling.

  Some were supportive, others were unhinged.

  A few of them even crossed into threats.

  It was overwhelming just looking at it.

  The longer I stared at the screen, the heavier the whole thing felt. Whoever this person was... they clearly hadn't taken my disappearance well.

  My hands moved toward the keyboard almost instinctively.

  Part of me wanted to type something. Just a quick message. Something simple to let them know I was alive, that nothing terrible had happened.

  But my fingers hovered above the keys.

  Something about it didn't feel right.

  After everything that had happened recently, the idea of opening that door again didn't sit well with me. I just sat there for a moment, staring at the endless wall of messages, unsure if replying would make things better... or a whole lot worse.

  "Fuck... maybe a simple message wouldn't hurt," I muttered to myself.

  My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment as I stared at the screen. The wall of messages from catlover666 still filled the chat window, stretching endlessly up the page.

  Part of me hoped that sending something small would just settle things down. A simple expnation, nothing dramatic. Maybe it would calm whatever storm had built up while I'd been gone.

  But another part of me—the louder, more cautious part—kept whispering that replying at all might be a mistake.

  I exhaled slowly and leaned forward anyway.

  My hands started typing.

  "Hey... thanks for worrying, I'm fine, just dealt with some stuff, not sure if I'll be streaming soon. Hope this message finds you well."

  I read the message once over quickly. It was neutral enough. Not too personal, not too cold either.

  Just enough to acknowledge everything without opening a huge conversation.

  For a brief second I hesitated again, my finger resting over the mouse.

  Then I clicked send.

  The message appeared at the bottom of the chat.

  I leaned back slightly in my chair, watching the screen, half expecting nothing to happen.

  Part of me hoped it would just stay quiet... and things could slowly return to normal.

  But of course, that wasn't how things went.

  Almost immediately after I sent the message, three small dots appeared above the chat bar.

  Typing.

  I leaned back in my chair and rolled my eyes toward the ceiling.

  "Oh my god..." I muttered quietly.

  A second ter the message popped up.

  "Oh my god you're alive!! Holy shit I thought I was gonna have to go find you or something ??????"

  I stared at the screen for a moment, letting out a small breath through my nose.

  Before I could even begin typing a response, another message appeared.

  And then another.

  "By dealing with stuff do you mean that you broke up with your girlfriend? Can I have a chance?"

  I blinked slowly as I read the next lines.

  "I wouldn't break up with you, I'd spoil you and give you everything you'd want, hand bags, makeup, just say what you want! I'll be the best wife ever!"

  I leaned back farther in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose with my fingers as a headache began forming almost instantly.

  "Why do I even..." I started to say out loud.

  But the sentence trailed off before I finished it.

  My eyes drifted back to the chat window, the blinking cursor waiting for a reply while her messages sat there on the screen, desperate and overwhelming all at once.

  "Sorry, not happening," I muttered under my breath.

  I didn't bother typing it out. Instead, I moved the cursor up, clicked off the chat window, and after a brief pause hit the block button. The conversation instantly disappeared from my inbox.

  "Weirdo," I added quietly to myself.

  The tension that had been building in my shoulders loosened a little as I pushed my chair back and stood up from the desk. I stretched my arms up over my head, my joints popping faintly after sitting there for a while.

  The room suddenly felt smaller now that the screen was off.

  I walked toward the door and stepped out into the hallway, the familiar quiet of the house wrapping around me again. The soft lighting along the corridor cast warm reflections across the polished floor.

  "Hey Le," I said casually as I walked past her.

  She was still standing near the window where she usually watched the grounds outside, her rifle secured against the front of her vest. At the sound of my voice she turned slightly, giving a small nod and a faint smile in return.

  Seeing her there, standing guard like always, made everything feel strangely normal.

  I kept walking down the hallway, stretching my arms again as I moved.

  Even now it still felt a little unreal.

  After everything that had happened—the kidnapping, the hospital, the chaos—I was finally back home.

  Back where I belonged.

  ——

  (Elena pov)

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my hands resting lightly against my stomach.

  It had grown a little more every week, the curve becoming harder to ignore no matter what I wore. The fabric of my shirt stretched slightly across it now, a quiet reminder of the reality I woke up to every single morning.

  I watched myself for a long moment, my eyes drifting over the change.

  Yet even then... my mind refused to stay in the present.

  All I could think about was him.

  Miguel.

  His name alone felt heavy in my chest. The memory of his voice, his smile, the way he used to look at me like nothing else in the world mattered—it all came rushing back whenever I let my thoughts wander.

  And tely... they wandered all the time.

  Where was he now?

  Was he safe?

  Was he happy?

  Questions like those echoed through my mind constantly, looping over and over again like a song I couldn't turn off. Every day. Every hour. Every minute.

  No matter how much I tried to focus on the life growing inside me, my thoughts always drifted back to him.

  "Once you see our child... you'll be crawling back to me," I whispered softly.

  My hands rested protectively over my stomach as I spoke, my fingers slowly tracing the gentle curve that had begun to form there. The room around me was quiet, but inside my mind scenes pyed out so vividly they almost felt real.

  I imagined him in the living room, the soft light of the evening spilling through the windows. Miguel sitting on the couch with our child in his arms, carefully holding the tiny bottle while the baby fed.

  His expression focused and gentle the way it used to get whenever he cared about something deeply.

  I could almost see it.

  The way he'd look down at the little bundle, tired after a long day but still smiling softly. The way he'd rock them absentmindedly while talking to them under his breath.

  The thought made my lips curl into a small, dreamy smile.

  My hands tightened slightly around my stomach as if protecting the future I had already built in my head.

  "You're mine, Miguel Rodriguez..." I murmured quietly to my reflection.

  My fingers brushed across my belly again, almost soothingly.

  "Soon to be Miguel Smith," I cooed, my voice soft but certain, like it was already a promise waiting to happen.

  ——