I woke to an empty bed. Caleb had already left. There was a note on the counter.

Working late tonight. Don't wait up. -C

I crumpled it and threw it in the trash.

My phone buzzed with a text from my mother.

Good morning, sweetheart! Just checking in about anniversary plans. Four years! So proud of you two. Call me when you can. Love, Mom.

I stared at the message, thinking about my mother, Claire Elliott, the famous author of the "Ellie's Adventures" series. She'd written thirty-two books about a perfect little girl who solved mysteries and always knew the right thing to do. That little girl was based on me, my childhood, my life, all of it packaged and sold to millions of readers who thought they knew me.

But they didn't know anything. I deleted the text without responding, then pulled out my journal and kept writing.

September 20th. He came home late again. Said it was a department meeting. But I know where he was. I know who he was with. He grabbed my wrist this morning when I asked him about it. Left marks. Then he apologized. Brought me coffee. Kissed my forehead. Like that makes it okay. Like I'm supposed to forget. But I'm not forgetting. I'm documenting everything. Every lie. Every bruise. Every moment he thought I was too weak to fight back. One week left. Then he'll see how weak I really am.

I closed the journal and hid it deeper in the closet this time. Behind the winter coats where he would never look.

Then I opened my laptop and kept researching. How to stage a disappearance, How to plant blood evidence, How to make it look real.

I read for hours. I learned about abandoned cars and missing person investigations also learned how to disappear.

By noon I had a plan and by evening I had a timeline. By the time Caleb came home smelling like perfume and lies, I had everything I needed.

He kissed me on the forehead. "Sorry I'm late, babe. You know how it is."

"I know exactly how it is," I said.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said.

I watched him walk away. Counted to ten. Then I pulled out my phone and took screenshots of his text messages to "M" that I'd found weeks ago when he left his phone unlocked.

Miss you. Can't wait to see you tonight.

She doesn't suspect anything. We're good.

I'll leave her eventually. Just need more time.

I saved every screenshot to my hidden folder. The one labeled "Tax Documents 2019" that he'd never open.

Evidence. I was building a case.

Caleb came home after midnight as usual. I heard his keys in the lock and I was already awake, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

He stumbled into the bedroom. His shirt was wrinkled. He smelled like perfume. Not mine.

"Hey babe," he said. His words were slightly slurred. "You awake?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry I'm late. Got caught up talking with some colleagues after the department meeting." He pulled off his shirt and tossed it toward the hamper.

I sat up. "Caleb."

"Hmm?"

"There was a photo posted today. You and some girl at The Riverside Tavern."

He froze for just a second. Then he laughed. A dismissive one.

"Oh that. Yeah, she's a student. We were discussing her thesis." He climbed into bed. "Why? Are you keeping tabs on me now?"

"People are talking."

"People always talk." He rolled toward me. His hand found my waist. "You know how small towns are. Everyone's bored so they make up drama."

"It's not made up, Caleb. I saw the photo."

His hand tightened on my waist. "What are you trying to say, Elara?"

"I'm saying it looks bad."

"Looks bad?" His voice changed. Got harder. "So you're accusing me of something?"

"I'm not accusing…"

"Because that's what it sounds like. You're calling me a liar." He sat up now. Loomed over me in the dark. "After everything I've done for you. I brought you here. I gave you a home. And this is how you thank me? By accusing me of…"

"I'm not accusing you of anything," I said quickly. My heart was racing. "I just think maybe you should be more careful about…"

"More careful?" He laughed again. Cold. "You know what your problem is, Elara? You're paranoid. You see things that aren't there. You always have been."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" He leaned closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. "You've been different lately. Distant. Cold. Maybe if you made more of an effort, I wouldn't have to spend so much time at work."

"That's not…"

"I'm tired." He lay back down. Turned away from me. "I don't want to fight about your insecurities. Goodnight."

I sat there in the dark. My hands were shaking.

This is what he did, Twisting everything. Made me doubt myself and made me feel like I was the problem.

I woke to find Caleb already up. He was in the kitchen making coffee. When I came downstairs he smiled at me, like last night never happened.

"Morning, beautiful." He handed me a cup. "Sleep okay?"

I took the coffee. "Fine."

"Listen, about last night." He touched my face gently. "I'm sorry. I was stressed and I took it out on you."

"You know I love you, right?" His thumb stroked my cheek. "It's just been a lot at work and sometimes I forget how lucky I am to have you."

This was the pattern. Cruelty followed by sweetness, hurt followed by apology. Over and over.

"I know," I said.

He kissed my forehead. "I have to get to campus. But tonight, let's do something nice. Just us. Okay?"

"Okay."

He left and I pulled out my phone and opened my photos, scrolled back to three days ago. There was a bruise on my upper arm, from when he grabbed me during our last argument and saved it to my hidden folder.

Then my phone buzzed, another message from the unknown number.

Saw Caleb this morning. He was smiling, probably thinking about last night. With me. Not you. When are you going to accept that you've already lost?

I stared at the message. Mila. It had to be Mila.

I took a screenshot and saved it.

Let her think she was winning.

I was in the bedroom when I heard Caleb come home early, I heard him downstairs.

My heart stopped. Caleb wasn't supposed to be home for hours, He told me he had evening classes until nine.

"Elara?" His voice floated up the stairs. "Babe, you home?"

I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to steady my breathing. Had he been watching the apartment? Did he know what I was planning?

"Yeah," I called back, my voice barely steady. "I'm upstairs." I heard him climbing the stairs. Each footstep like a drumbeat.

I quickly checked the closet one more time, the journal was hidden.

But then the corner of my laptop was still open on the bed. The screen dark, but not closed.

The screen I'd been using to research how to stage a disappearance. How to plant blood evidence, how to make it look real.

Had I closed those tabs?

I couldn't remember.

I lunged for the laptop, my fingers trembling as I reached for it.

The door opened, Caleb stood in the doorway, and he was smiling.

But his eyes weren't on me.

They were on the laptop in my hands.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

And in that moment, I realized I'd made a terrible mistake

"Just looking at some work stuff," I said, closing the laptop quickly.

Caleb's eyes stayed on me for a beat too long. Then he smiled. "Work stuff. On a Friday night."

"Yeah. You know how it is."

He walked over and kissed my forehead. "I brought dinner. Your favorite."

I looked at him. At this man who'd just hit me hours ago and was now standing here with takeout like nothing had happened.

"I'm not really hungry," I said.

"Come on. You need to eat." He touched my face gently, his thumb brushing over the cheek he'd slapped. "Please? For me?"

"Okay," I said quietly.

My mother called on Friday morning while I was getting dressed. I stared at the screen for four rings before answering.

"Hi, Mom."

"Elara! Finally! I've been trying to reach you for days." Her voice was bright. Cheerful. The same voice she used at book signings. "Your father and I are so excited about your anniversary. Four years! That's wonderful, sweetheart."

I walked to the kitchen and poured juice. My mother could talk for ten minutes without needing me to respond.

"We want to send you something special," she continued. "Maybe a dinner voucher? Or we could fly out and celebrate with you both. It would make such a lovely addition to the new book I'm working on. Ellie's getting older in this series and I'm exploring more mature themes. Romance. Commitment. Your relationship with Caleb has been such an inspiration."

Of course. Of course she was writing about my relationship.

"Mom, you don't have to…"

"Nonsense! The readers love hearing about your real life. They grew up with Ellie and now they get to see you living your own love story. It's perfect." She paused. "Everything is okay with you two, isn't it? You'd tell me if something was wrong?"

I looked down at my arm. At the fading bruise shaped like fingerprints. At the newer one on my cheek I'd covered with makeup.

"Everything's fine."

"Good, good! I knew it was. Caleb is such a wonderful young man. So dedicated. You're very lucky to have him."

Lucky. Right.

"Mom, I have to go."

"Of course, of course. We'll talk soon about those anniversary plans. Love you, sweetheart!"

She hung up before I could respond.

I stood there thinking about all the ways my mother had turned my life into stories, into something that belonged to the public instead of to me.

The "Ellie's Adventures" series started when I was nine. My mother had used everything. My messy hair became Ellie's "wild curls." My anxiety became Ellie's "thoughtful nature." My loneliness became Ellie's "independent spirit."

By the time I was thirteen, my face was on book covers. Kids at school knew who I was before I introduced myself.

Now she was selling my relationship too. I opened my laptop and searched for my mother's name.

Claire Elliott Talks About Her Daughter's Real-Life Romance: "Elara and Caleb Are Living Their Own Love Story"

I clicked it.

"My daughter Elara is in a wonderful relationship with a dedicated teacher named Caleb Hayes. They've been together four years now and watching them build their life together reminds me so much of the love story I wrote for Ellie. Sometimes real life really does imitate art!"

My mom had no idea that the man she praised in interviews had hit me, gaslight me, cheating on me with a twenty-one-year-old student.

And I couldn't tell her. Because the moment I did, it would become another story.

I grabbed my purse and keys. I needed to get out of this apartment.

I drove to the small coffee shop on Main Street. I ordered a latte and sat by the window. Pulled out my phone and started scrolling through our bank statements.

September 10: $2200.43

September 15: $3400.00

September 18: $1500.00

Our shared account, money we were supposed to be saving, He was spending it on her.

I was so focused on the numbers that I didn't hear the door open and didn't hear footsteps approaching.

"Elara."

I looked up. Caleb stood there. His face was dark and angry.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I could ask you the same thing." He looked me up and down. His eyes lingered on my dress. A simple sundress, It was nothing revealing. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"What?"

He moved closer. Lowered his voice but the anger was still there. Sharp. "That dress. Who are you trying to impress? Who are you meeting here?"

"No one. I just wanted coffee."

"Bullshit." He grabbed my arm. Hard. "You get all dressed up and come to a coffee shop alone? You think I'm stupid?"

"Caleb, you're hurting me…"

"Are you trying to seduce someone? Is that what this is?" His grip tightened. "You think because I'm busy at work you can just…"

"Let go of me."

Then he slapped me, the slap echoed through the quiet coffee shop.

My head snapped to the side and my cheek exploded in pain.

Caleb grabbed my arm again. "We're leaving."

"Caleb…"

"Now."

He practically dragged me out of the coffee shop, I stumbled trying to keep up. My face was burning and my eyes were filling with tears.

He shoved me toward his car. "Get in."

He slammed the door. Walked around and got in the driver's side.

I pressed myself against the passenger door. Tried to make myself small. My cheek throbbed, I literally could taste blood in my mouth.

We drove home in complete silence. The only sound was my ragged breathing and the hum of the engine.

When we got to the apartment, Caleb finally spoke.

"Elara." His voice was softer now. Careful. "I'm sorry."

"I shouldn't have…" He ran his hand through his hair. "I saw you there and I just... I thought you were meeting someone. I thought you were…"

"I wasn't."

"I know. I know that now." He reached for me. I flinched.

"Elara, no one else would put up with you as I do. Your anxiety. Your insecurity. Your constant need for reassurance. But I do."

Like I should be grateful, I should thank him for staying.

"I'm going to take a shower," I said quietly.

"Okay." He touched my shoulder gently. "We're okay, right? You and me?"

I didn't answer.

I went upstairs. Locked the bathroom door. Looked at myself in the mirror.

My cheek was swelling again, so red.

I picked up my phone and went to my contacts, found my parents' names.

Stared at them for a long moment and then I blocked both numbers.

Not forever. Just for now.

Because I couldn't risk them calling. I couldn't risk my mother turning this into another chapter in Ellie's adventures.

I pulled out my journal and wrote.

September 22nd. He hit me in public today. In front of everyone at the coffee shop. Then he dragged me out like I was nothing, like I belonged to him. Told me no one else would put up with me. Like I should be grateful he stays. Like I'm the problem. But I'm not the problem. He is. Three more days. Three more days and then he'll see who the real problem is.

Then I pulled out expensive cardstock paper, the ones used for wedding invitations.

I sat at the desk by the window and stared at the blank page for a long time.

Then I started writing.

My pen moved slowly, carefully. Crafting words that looked like poetry, like romance, like riddles a woman in love would create.

But they weren't love letters.

They were accusations. and evidence. Proof that I'd known everything all along.

Four clues total, I wrote until each line was perfect.

Then I folded each clue carefully. Placed them in separate envelopes. Labeled them in my neatest handwriting.

Tomorrow I will plant them. One by one.

I heard Caleb's footsteps in the hallway, he was coming toward the bedroom.

I quickly gathered the clues and shoved them in my desk drawer just as the door opened.

"Hey," he said. He was holding something behind his back. "I wanted to apologize. Again. For today."

He brought his hand forward. Roses.

"I know I messed up," he continued. "But I love you. You know that, right?"

I stared at the flowers, at his face. At the man I used to love.

"Okay," I whispered.

He smiled. Kissed my forehead. "Good. I'm going to make it up to you. I promise."

He left the flowers on my desk and walked out. I waited until I heard him go downstairs.

I needed to finish something.