Chapter 9
The apartment doesn't feel like it belongs to anyone anymore.
It's just... occupied.
Ava is finally down in the portable crib Chloe pulled out earlier in the night, curled small on her side, one fist near her face like she's still holding onto something even in sleep.
I set it up near the couch so Chloe could see her when she woke.
Assuming she would wake.
She hasn't.
Not yet.
I sit in the armchair again, same spot as before, but this time I'm not pacing and just watching.
Chloe is still on the couch, blanket half-draped over her shoulders, one leg bent slightly like she fell asleep mid-thought and never finished it.
Her face had softened when she first drifted off.
Now... It's changing.
Subtly at first.
A shift in her breathing.
A small tension pulls back into her jaw.
Her fingers twitch against the cushion like she's trying to grab something that isn't there.
I notice before I fully understand it.
Then her brow furrows.
"No..." she whispers.
Barely audible.
I sit forward slightly.
Chloe doesn't wake.
Her head turns just a fraction, like she's trying to look away from something only she can see.
Her breathing gets sharper.
Shorter.
Ava stirs in the crib at the sound but doesn't wake fully. Just shifts and settles again.
I keep my voice low.
"Chloe."
No response.
Her hand clenches tighter into the blanket.
Another whisper, more strained this time.
"Please..."
That lands differently.
My body's already moving before I decide to.
I stand slowly, careful not to make noise, and take a step closer to the couch.
I've seen enough people sleep through nightmares to know the difference between normal restlessness and something deeper.
This is deeper.
"Hey," I say quietly. "Chloe. You're alright."
Her breathing spikes.
Her shoulders tense like she's bracing for impact.
She shakes her head faintly, still asleep.
"No... don't-"
My jaw tightens.
I glance at Ava.
Still asleep.
Good.
I shift closer to the couch, lowering my voice even more.
"Chloe. It's Mason. You're safe."
That word again.
Safe.
It feels like it's becoming something I keep offering her without knowing if she believes it.
Her expression twists.
Not fully awake, but trapped somewhere in whatever her mind has dragged her into.
Her hand lifts slightly like she's trying to push something away.
"Stop," she breathes.
That's when I realise she's not just dreaming.
She's reacting.
Like her body thinks it's happening now.
My gut tightens.
I don't touch her yet.
Not without knowing how far gone she is.
Instead, I stay close enough that she can hear me.
"Chloe," I say again, firmer this time, steady. "Look at me. You're in your apartment. Ava's fine. You're safe."
Her breathing stutters.
A small sound catches in her throat-half panic, half something like fear she can't place.
And then...
Her eyes snap open.
She gasps hard, like she's surfaced from underwater too fast.
For a second, she doesn't move.
Doesn't speak.
Just stares at nothing.
Chest rising too quickly.
I don't step closer immediately.
Just give her space.
"Hey," I say softly. "You're here. You're okay."
Her eyes flick around the room.
Couch.
Crib.
Me.
Something in her face fractures slightly when she sees Ava still asleep.
Like she has to confirm it's real.
Her voice comes out broken.
"I-" she swallows hard. "I was-"
She stops.
Doesn't finish.
Her hand presses against her chest like she's trying to slow her breathing by force.
I watch her carefully.
Not pushing.
Not asking.
Just reading what I can.
Because I've been right about this since the first night, even without knowing the details.
It isn't random stress.
It isn't just exhaustion.
It's something that leaves a person expecting danger even when there isn't any.
Her gaze drops to the floor.
"Sorry," she whispers.
That word again.
Always that word.
I shake my head once.
"No," I say quietly. "Don't do that."
Her breathing is still uneven.
I take a careful step closer, then stop again-letting her set the distance.
"You had a nightmare," I say.
She doesn't answer.
Doesn't deny it either.
Her fingers curl into the blanket again, but they are weaker now. Less panic. More aftermath.
I keep my voice steady.
"You don't have to explain anything right now."
That gets a flicker of something in her expression.
Confusion, maybe.
Like she's not used to that option existing.
Silence stretches.
Ava makes a tiny noise in the crib, and Chloe flinches automatically-then immediately looks toward her, checking.
Reassuring herself.
I notice the way she does it.
Fast.
Constant.
Like her brain is always scanning for a threat.
My jaw tightens again, but I keep my expression neutral.
I've got theories.
Plenty of them.
A man doesn't move states suddenly with a baby and sleep like that unless something forces it.
And the way she reacts sometimes-small, subtle things-tells me enough without her saying a word.
But theories don't matter right now.
What matters is she's here.
And she's breathing.
Chloe swallows again, voice quieter now.
"I didn't mean to wake you."
"I wasn't asleep," I reply.
That earns a faint, almost broken huff of air from her.
Not quite a laugh.
But close enough that something in my chest loosens slightly.
She looks away again.
Embarrassed.
I recognise that too well.
"You want me to take her for a bit?" I ask gently, nodding toward Ava.
Chloe hesitates.
Too long.
Then shakes her head once.
"No. She's- she's okay."
"Yeah," I say softly. "She is."
A beat.
Then I add, quieter:
"You are too."
That lands heavier.
She doesn't respond immediately.
Just stares at the blanket like she's trying to figure out what to do with that information.
I stay where I am.
Not pushing closer.
Not leaving.
Just present.
Because I'm starting to understand something I don't think she's said out loud yet.
Whatever she ran from didn't just follow her in memories.
It followed her into sleep.