Ethan arrived at Serena's dorm in twenty minutes. He burst through the door, chest heaving.
"Where are they?"
Serena threw herself into his arms. She was wearing a silk robe that slipped off one shoulder. "They drove away when you pulled up. Oh, Ethan, I was so terrified."
He patted her back awkwardly. His mind was still in the coffee shop. "You're safe now."
"Stay with me?" she pleaded, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes.
Ethan looked at her. He felt... nothing. No spark. No protective instinct. Just exhaustion. But he looked at the window. If there were paparazzi outside, leaving now would look like abandonment.
"I'll check the locks," he said, pulling away. "I'll sleep on the couch. For security."
Serena stiffened. "But... the bed is big enough."
"I have a headache," Ethan said, turning away. "Go to sleep, Serena."
He lay on the lumpy dorm couch, staring at the ceiling. He missed his bed. He missed the smell of lavender.
In Queens, Elara was scrubbing the floor. She was on her hands and knees, a bucket of soapy water beside her. Her back ached. Her nails were chipped.
She was sweating, her hair plastered to her forehead.
Knock. Knock.
She sat up, wiping her brow. "Who is it?"
"Landlord inspection," a voice called out. Amused.
She opened the door. Julian stood there. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, holding a red toolbox in one hand and a pizza box in the other.
"I figured you might need this," he said, lifting the toolbox. "And this." He lifted the pizza.
Elara smiled. It was the first genuine smile she had felt in days. "You are a lifesaver."
They sat on the floor, eating pepperoni pizza straight from the box. The window was open, letting in the sounds of the city.
"So," Julian said, taking a bite. "Shang's lab. That's intense."
"It's where the work is," Elara said. "I have a theory about protein folding stability in high-heat environments. If I can prove it, it'll change vector delivery."
Julian's eyes lit up. "Wait. You mean using heat shock proteins as a shield?"
"Exactly! But the sequencing is tricky."
They talked for two hours. They didn't talk about Ethan. They didn't talk about the divorce. They talked about RNA, CRISPR, and enzymatic decay.
Elara felt her brain expanding, filling the room. Julian listened to her. He challenged her. He didn't nod and tell her she was pretty. He told her she was right.
"I have a bed coming tomorrow," Elara said, looking at the empty space. "From IKEA."
"I hate IKEA," Julian laughed. "Call me when it arrives. I'm a surgeon; I have steady hands for those tiny screws."
He stood up to leave. "Get some sleep, Elara. You have a big day."
He hesitated at the door. "And Elara? You were amazing today. Standing up to him."
Elara blushed. "I was terrified."
"You didn't look it."
He left. Elara locked the door. She lay down on her pile of coats. The floor was hard, but she fell asleep instantly.
Ethan woke up at 3 AM. His phone was blowing up.
Daily Mail: TECH MOGUL ASSAULTS WIFE IN CAFE?
Twitter: #FreeElara trending.
"Dammit!" Ethan threw the phone across the room.
He called his PR crisis manager.
"Kill the story," Ethan demanded.
"We can't, sir. It's viral. We need a counter-narrative."
"Say she's crazy," Ethan said. "Say she's mentally unstable and I was trying to get her to return to her treatment facility."
"Sir... that's risky."
"Do it!"
The next morning, Elara walked into the Science Block. She was wearing her thrifted blazer. She felt good.
She walked into Lab 4.
A tall, lanky student with a sneer on his face bumped into her.
"Watch it, newbie," he muttered.
This was Henry. Finch's favorite student. The Golden Boy of the lab.
"Excuse me," Elara said politely.
"Are you the new cleaning lady?" Henry asked, looking at her plain clothes. "The mop is in the closet."
Elara looked at him. She saw the arrogance. It reminded her of Ethan.
"I'm the new research assistant," she said coolly. "And your fly is unzipped."
Henry looked down, flushing red.
Elara walked past him to her station. She put on her lab coat. It was stiff and white. It felt like armor.
