Sleep became a fragile thing.
Ava drifted in and out of it, waking at every unfamiliar sound, every creak of the building settling into the night. Fear had learned the shape of her thoughts now, slipping in quietly, disguising itself as caution.
By morning, exhaustion weighed heavy on her limbs.
Hazel was already awake, sitting at the small kitchen table with a mug of tea cradled between her hands. She looked up when Ava entered, offering a small, tired smile.
"You didn't sleep either," Hazel said.
Ava shook her head. "I kept thinking I heard something."
Hazel nodded. "Me too."
They shared a look an unspoken understanding that this was no longer about imagination or overthinking. The unease was real.
Later that day, Hayden arrived with news.
"I spoke to my lawyer," he said, setting his jacket over the back of a chair. "We can file for a restraining order. It won't stop everything, but it creates a record. Protection."
Hazel exhaled. "I don't want to live like I'm hiding."
"You won't be," Ava said. "We'll take precautions, not disappear."
The lawyer's office was quiet, professional, impersonal. Ava sat beside Hazel, her hand never leaving her friend's arm as they recounted events dates, sightings, the photograph. Saying it all out loud made it feel heavier, but also more real. Something that could be addressed instead of feared in silence.
When they stepped back onto the street, the city felt brighter than Ava expected. No sudden relief but a shift. Action had weight.
That evening, Hazel's mood changed abruptly.
She grew pale, her hand pressing firmly against her stomach. "Ava… something doesn't feel right."
Panic surged through Ava instantly. "Are you in pain?"
Hazel nodded. "Cramping. It's stronger than before."
The hospital was a blur of motion and noise. Nurses moved quickly, voices calm but urgent. Ava stayed by Hazel's side, gripping her hand tightly, whispering reassurances she hoped were true.
After what felt like hours, a doctor finally spoke.
"Stress can trigger these symptoms," she explained gently. "The baby is okay for now. But Hazel needs rest. Minimal stress."
Ava felt both relief and guilt crash over her. Stress. Fear. All of it tangled together.
"I'm sorry," Hazel murmured later, tears slipping down her temples. "I hate being the reason you're scared."
Ava shook her head fiercely. "You are not the reason. You are the reason I'm staying strong."
That night, Hayden brought food none of them touched. He stood awkwardly near the doorway, watching Ava tuck a blanket around Hazel.
"I don't know how to fix this," he admitted quietly.
Ava turned to him. "You don't fix it by making it disappear. You fix it by staying."
He nodded slowly. "Then I'm not going anywhere."
Later, alone in her room, Ava sat on the edge of the bed and finally let herself cry. Not from weakness but from release. The kind that comes when holding on becomes heavier than letting go.
She wiped her tears and reached for her phone.
I'm scared,she typed.
But I'm still here.
The reply came moments later.
So am I.
Ava set the phone down and stared at the wall, her breathing steadying.
Love wasn't the absence of fear.
It was choosing to remain again and again even when fear tried to push you away.
And for the first time since the photograph appeared, Ava felt certain of one thing:
She knew exactly what she was staying for.