7. Elena
Elena
I wake up in the same bed, in the same room, every day.
The air feels stale, even though the window’s open a crack.
I’ve learned that the small spaces—like the gaps between breaths, the silences in my own thoughts—are the worst. They fill up with things I don’t want to think about, and I can’t push them away.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Three days?
Four? It feels like weeks. The apartment is quiet, always too quiet.
I’m supposed to rest, which means no work.
No distractions. No purpose other than waiting.
Rest, they said. It’s for the baby, for the implantation to “take,” and to make sure I’m physically ready for whatever comes next.
That’s what they tell me every day.
Meals arrive at noon, like clockwork. I don’t ask for them; they just appear. The food is bland, pre-packaged, too perfect. It’s like someone decided what I need, and it’s all been laid out for me in a way I can’t escape.
I eat because I have to. But I don’t feel like it.
I didn’t ask for this control. I didn’t ask for anyone to make decisions for me.
But it’s happening, anyway. And the worst part is, I’m here, in this apartment, alone, waiting for a call, a knock, or an appointment that will remind me who’s really in charge.
I can’t avoid the thought anymore: I’m completely alone. Sure, there’s Dr. Walsh who shows up every day to monitor me, but it’s nothing like having someone who actually cares .
The reality of my isolation hits harder now.
I used to have Liam. At least that was something, even if it was a lie.
But the truth of it is, I’m just a person passing through a place I don’t belong.
This wasn’t supposed to be my life. I came here hoping to start over, to put things behind me.
But when Liam left, he took everything with him.
He left me behind, just like he always did with the rest of his responsibilities.
All those months of pretending we had a future here in Dublin, trying to fit into a life that wasn’t really mine, trying to convince myself that it could work.
I tried. I really did. But that kind of effort doesn’t leave you with friends.
It doesn’t leave you with anything except yourself, and the reality is, I’m terrible company for myself.
I never noticed how empty my life had become until now.
How every morning, I’d wake up next to Liam, and now I wake up to silence.
I was so focused on trying to make things work with him that I didn’t see how much I was losing.
It didn’t occur to me that friends—real friends—might have been more valuable than a man who wasn’t interested in sticking around. It didn’t matter then, but it does now. The only friends I have left are memories, and they’re not good ones.
I keep telling myself I’ll be fine—I always tell myself that.
I’ve been fine before. But there’s a sharp edge to loneliness when it’s no longer masked by the noise of survival.
When you’ve been doing everything you can just to keep moving forward, and you realize you’ve never once stopped to check if anyone is there with you.
Liam’s absence didn’t hurt as much when I was too busy trying to patch things up.
Now that I’m supposed to rest, now that my body is supposed to be the one thing that matters, the silence is suffocating.
It’s as though every part of me is surrounded by walls I didn’t even know existed, and I’m the one who built them.
The clinic is a ten-minute walk away. The only place I can go, and I’m not supposed to go anywhere else. Cormac doesn’t say it, but I know. The apartment’s rules, the schedule, the food—all of it is designed for one thing: control.
I hate it. But I don’t have a choice.
Luckily, the weather is quite nice today, so at least my walk to the clinic will be pleasant.
The sun’s out, and even though the air has that sharp bite of early spring, it feels good to be outside.
It’s a small, fleeting relief to have something other than the walls of the apartment pressing in on me.
I try to focus on the quiet hum of the city as I walk, the sounds of cars passing, people talking, life happening around me. It’s all so normal, and I’m... not.
I round a corner, heading toward the clinic, when I spot a woman walking toward me. She has striking red hair and a confident stride that catches my attention immediately. She stops a few steps away, and I’m caught off guard by her quick smile, sharp and confident.
“Hey,” she says, “I think I’ve seen you before.”
I blink at her. “You have?”
“Are you in the program, too?”
“Yeah, I am,” I answer slowly, still a little off balance. “I’m Elena.”
She nods, that same sharp smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Grace Malone,” she says, extending a hand. “I think we might be in the same boat, though I’m a little further along.”
I take her hand, feeling the firm but not overly warm grip. “Nice to meet you, Grace,” I say, my voice more guarded than I want it to be. I’ve been alone for too long, too isolated. The idea of someone else in this strange new world feels almost foreign.
“Likewise,” she replies, then cocks her head slightly, studying me. “I’ve seen you around, but we haven’t really spoken. You doing okay so far?”
I hesitate. Doing okay? I’m not sure what to say to that. I’m stuck in an apartment I didn’t choose, with a set of rules I didn’t ask for. But somehow, I’m surviving.
“I’m managing,” I say, keeping it vague. “Mostly resting.”
She nods again, like she understands more than I’ve said. “The program’s good at managing people,” she says with a wry smile, her eyes glinting with something I can’t quite read. “That’s the whole point, right? Keep you on track, give you everything you need. But there’s always a cost.”
I don’t say anything at first, just let the words hang in the air. I don’t want to think too much about the cost.
“Are you heading to the clinic?” she asks, breaking the silence. “I was just on my way to grab some lunch, but I could use a walk. We can chat a bit if you’ve got time.”
I look at her, unsure for a moment. I don’t know her, don’t know what she wants. But I can’t keep walking through this strange world alone. Maybe talking to someone would make the walls feel a little less confining.
“Sure,” I say after a beat, surprised at how quickly the words come out. “I’ve got time.”
We start walking together down the sidewalk, the quiet hum of the city filling the space between us. She moves with purpose, like she’s used to navigating spaces like this.
“So,” she starts, eyes flicking toward me as we walk. “How are you handling it? The whole thing? The bed rest, the appointments, all of it?”
I think about it for a second. Handling it? What does that even mean? It’s not like I have a choice.
“It’s... different,” I say carefully. “I’m not used to being told what to do. But I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
She gives a short laugh, but it’s not entirely light. “No, you don’t. Trust me, I know exactly what you mean. When I first got here, I thought I could just roll with it. Follow the rules, do my part, and get out the other side. But it’s not that simple, is it?”
I glance at her, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” she says, her tone shifting slightly.
“The program’s designed to make you feel like you’re in control.
Like you’re part of something. But the truth is, everything is chosen for you.
Where you live, what you eat, who you talk to.
.. it’s all part of the system. And the longer you’re here, the more you realize you don’t get to decide much. Dr. Brennan decides everything.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I feel a knot tightening in my stomach, something cold and heavy.
I don’t want to admit it, but Grace’s words land like a blow.
She’s right. I’ve been trying to tell myself I could handle it, that it was just a temporary situation.
But the more time passes, the more I realize how much of my life has been handed over to someone else.
I look away for a moment, gathering myself. “I’m not sure I like being controlled,” I murmur, more to myself than to her.
“None of us do,” she says, her voice softening slightly. “But if you want to stay in the program, you have to accept it. It’s not about liking it. It’s about surviving it.”
“So, what’s the deal with Dr. Brennan?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. “Is he... is he always like that?”
Grace glances at me, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Dr. Brennan... well, he’s a complicated man. But if you’re asking if he’s always in control, the answer’s yes. It’s his world, Elena. We’re just living in it.”
The words linger between us, and I can’t shake the feeling that she’s telling me more than she’s actually saying.
“Anyway,” Grace continues, her voice light again, “you’ll get used to it. I did. And I’m still here.”
I can’t tell if she’s trying to reassure me or herself. “Yeah,” I mutter. “I guess I will.”
We walk in silence for a while longer, the distance to the clinic growing shorter but the weight of Grace’s words heavier. I wonder how much of myself I’ll lose here, in this place where everything is decided for me.
Grace stops suddenly, and I turn to look at her. “I know this isn’t easy,” she says. “But don’t forget, this place might feel like a cage, but it’s also an opportunity. Don’t let the control make you forget that.”
“True,” I say. “I definitely need the money.”
Grace gives me a look, sharper than before, like she's trying to figure me out. “So, are you American?” she asks. The way she says it makes me feel like she’s read me already. Like my accent, my whole vibe, has already given me away.
I blink, a little surprised by the question. “Yeah,” I reply, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Born and raised in Boston. And you?”