The flat smelled a little bit like salt and fresh paint.
It was small, with only one bedroom, one narrow balcony, and a kitchenette that could only fit two people, but it was clean, quiet, and, most importantly, private.
I closed the door behind me and put my forehead on the wood. I took deep breaths until my hands stopped shaking.
No knocking.
There are no voices outside.
There are no cameras.
Nothing was after me for the first time in days.
I sat down on the floor, and my bags were next to me, where they were supposed to be. The silence closed in on me, strange and heavy, as if my body still didn't trust it.
This was it.
This was the place where I would disappear without a trace.
I didn't unpack right away.
I looked at the windows, tried the locks, and turned off each light one by one, moving through the apartment like someone who had learned not to be careless. I sat down at the small table and took out my phone as soon as I was sure no one was watching.
I shut it off.
After a short wait, I took out the SIM card and broke it in half.
The sound was loud and final.
The phone number vanished, along with all the individuals associated with it. The phone number vanished, along with all the individuals associated with it.
I stood up and threw the pieces away, hiding them behind crumpled receipts and plastic wrap. It felt like a ritual, like breaking the last link to the place I had left behind.
The woman who was said to be Lucien Drake's ex-wife was dead.
I left early the next morning.
At that time, the town was quiet. Fishing boats bobbed up and down in the harbor. A few business owners were just starting to open their doors, and they all looked worn out and familiar with each other.
No one looked at me twice.
That alone felt like freedom.
I paid cash for the food. I chose plain clothing. I paid rent under the name on my temporary documents, which I got through a secret service years ago when I learned that being prepared for anything is often necessary for survival.
I had no idea how important those documents would become.
I used the same name to sign up at a small clinic in my neighborhood.
The nurse looked over my papers. "Are you new here?"
"Yes," I said simply.
She smiled warmly. "Welcome."
There are no questions.
No recognition.
I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath, as if I had been holding it for weeks, when the doctor said the pregnancy was still viable.
She said softly, "You need to be careful." "Don't worry. There aren't any big moves. And no travel that isn't necessary.
I nodded.
"I won't be going anywhere," I said.
Not again.
Days have passed.
Then a week.
The town settled into a routine, and my body slowly followed suit. I found out which café was the first to open, which streets stayed quiet even during the busy tourist season, and which neighbor liked to water her plants at dawn.
I slept longer.
I ate better.
The bleeding has stopped.
I put my hands on my stomach and made promises I didn't know how to keep at night when the wind blew waves through my open window. I meant them with all my heart.
People in the big city I had left behind were not unaware of the silence I had caused.
Lucien Drake sat in his office, looking at the empty space where a name should have been.
His assistant said, "She paid with cash." "No phone use." We have only found one flight that has been registered. After she left the city, there were no hospital records in her name.
Lucien's fingers tightened around the pen.
"Nothing?" he asked.
"Nothing," the assistant said. "It's as if she disappeared."
Lucien leaned back slowly.
That wasn't possible.
Nobody just disappeared without help or a plan. And Elara had never seemed careless.
The assistant said softly, "She's pregnant." "That's what the doctor thinks, at least."
Lucien's jaw tightened.
He had not said for sure.
Not yet.
But the thought stayed with him like a heavy weight in his chest since the night of the divorce.
"Keep looking," he told them. "Look for more."
"Yes, sir."
"And don't get the family involved," Lucien said after a pause. "This stays contained."
The assistant was unsure. "Got it."
Lucien stood up and walked to the window when the door closed.
The city sprawled out under him, vibrant and indifferent.
The woman he had thought was unimportant had disappeared somewhere in or outside of it.
He also felt something with her that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
I got my last confirmation back in the coastal town.
The agency's message came through a secure channel.
The old records are sealed. The new identity is now active. No digital record.
I looked at the screen for a long time.
There was no turning back once I figured this out.
I typed one word.
Confirmed.
The screen became dark.
My past was officially dead.
I stood on the small balcony that night and watched the ocean change color from gold to blue to almost black as the sun set.
The world seemed bigger than it had ever been.
I thought about the big house I had left behind. The floors have been polished. The cold dinner. The man who had looked at me found nothing worth keeping.
I wasn't mad anymore.
It's just a matter of distance.
I put both of my hands on my stomach.
I said softly, "It's just us now." "And that's all."
My new, untraceable phone vibrated once inside.
A message from the clinic reminded me of my appointment coming up.
There's nothing else.
There are no threats.
There are no shadows.
Fear finally let go for the first time since the divorce.
Three weeks later, in a room full of executives, Lucien Drake made a mistake.
He forgot something.
It was a small thing, like a missed clause or a late response, but it was enough for the audience to notice.
It was strange that there was no sound after that.
A high-ranking director cleared his throat. "Is everything okay, Mr. Drake?"
Lucien stood up straight. "Go on."
But a crack had already formed.
He had a persistent and uncomfortable thought as the meeting went on.
It was too easy for her to disappear.
He poured himself a drink that night but didn't drink it.
The city seemed to be making more noise than usual.
Less full.
I fell asleep in a quiet apartment by the sea with the window open and the waves crashing all night.
Nobody knocked.
No one said my name.
Elara Drake is no longer around.
And the woman I was becoming didn't want to be found.