Love,Written In Ruins-Chapter 22: This Is Not A Fantasy
Eloise woke the next morning to warmth pressed against her side. Soft breathing brushed her shoulder, a lazy puff of air that tickled her skin. When she blinked her eyes open, she was staring at the familiar, chaotic expanse of Jayla’s bedding, and Jayla’s arm was draped heavily over her waist like a protective blanket.
Eloise stared for a moment, the comforting weight easing some of the tension she’d carried for days. Then she chuckled under her breath.
Jayla slept exactly like she fought—dramatically, messily, and with full body commitment. One knee was thrown aggressively over Eloise’s thigh, half of the single blanket was strangled beneath her torso, and her gorgeous curly hair sprawled in every direction like a lion’s mane seeking sunlight.
Eloise gently untangled herself, carefully maneuvering the knee off her body and freeing the corner of the blanket from beneath her back. Jayla groaned, a deep, satisfied rumble, but didn’t wake, simply rolling over and hugging a pillow like she had been abandoned in the wilderness.
"Drama queen," Eloise whispered, smiling—only to feel that smile wobble immediately, replaced by a cold wave of exhaustion and dread she couldn’t hide.
She padded into the small washroom.
The moment cold water touched her face, memories of last night crashed into her like an icy wave, chilling her to the bone.
She was instantly back to standing outside Jayla’s apartment, her eyes hunted, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs, telling her: "Jay, please... come with me. There’s no time."
Jayla had just stared at the shimmering, impossibly expensive McLaren 720S parked on their curb, then back at Eloise’s pale face and designer clothes.
Then, without asking a single question, she’d grabbed Eloise’s wrist and dragged her inside the tiny, familiar apartment.
Inside, Jayla shoved a glass of water into her hands, cupping Eloise’s icy fingers around it as if trying to warm them back to life. Then she cut straight to the chase, her dark eyes demanding the truth.
"Talk," Jayla said, her voice firm and non-negotiable. "Where the hell have you been? I was going mad, El. I thought William had done something unspeakable."
Eloise had taken a breath that tasted like fear, iron, and heartbreak.
"You wouldn’t believe me," she’d managed to choke out.
"Girl," Jayla deadpanned, sitting back on the sofa, "I once dated a guy who claimed he was abducted by aliens when he didn’t text back for three days. Try me. There is nothing I haven’t heard."
Eloise took a breath—deep, shaky, frightened—and told her everything.
She told Jayla the whole, unbelievable truth: from the moment she was dragged into a black car on the day they were supposed to go clubbing, to the chilling realization that the estate she burned wasn’t William’s at all, but belonged to a man far, far worse. How the real owner was—
God.
She still couldn’t say his name, Luciano, without something shivering along her spine, a profound sense of doom and twisted excitement.
"And because I burned the wrong man’s estate," she’d whispered, her voice barely a thread, "I have to become his fiancée to pay the price."
Jayla had gasped, hands flying to her mouth—but the relief of seeing Eloise alive and mostly unharmed quickly overshadowed her shock.
"Oh. My. God. El—what—how—fiancée? As in ring? Vows? Death-do-us-part?" Jayla was already spiraling into theatrical disbelief. "I knew William couldn’t be trusted. Even after you dumped his sorry ass, he still finds new ways to ruin your life. Now you’ve got a dangerous kidnapper as a fiancé—girl, what is your life?"
"That’s not even the worst part, Jay," Eloise whispered, pressing her fingers over her churning stomach.
"What could possibly be worse than that, El?!"
Eloise stared at the floor, the memory sharp and nauseating. "Jay... he gave me William’s—" Her voice cracked. "—severed future... as a welcome gift."
Jayla blinked. Once. Twice. Then—
She whistled so loud Eloise thought the neighbors might complain.
"Damn, girl. You are living my dark fantasies."
Eloise had slapped her shoulder weakly. "Jayla!"
"What? William deserved it! And honestly? A man bringing your cheating ex’s severed testicles as a welcome gift? I like it." She shrugged, surprisingly practical. "Very dramatic. Very ’I own the night’ vibes. He clearly has an appreciation for poetic justice."
"Jayla!" Eloise repeated, horrified that her friend could find anything positive in this nightmare.
"What? I’m just saying! Honestly, kind of hot—"
"JAYLA!"
Jayla leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief and morbid curiosity, ignoring the seriousness entirely.
"Okay, okay, I’ll stop! But—real talk—is he handsome? Like... dark-romance handsome? Or like one of those brooding villains who need a hug and a serious therapist?"
Eloise had flushed so hard she thought she’d combust on the spot, the question cutting through her fear to an even deeper, more dangerous emotion.
She whispered. "Handsome. No—dangerously handsome. Like... ruin-your-life-by-accident handsome."
Jayla clutched her imaginary pearls. "Oh, I knew it! I read about these men in books, I manifested them for you! I like him already, El."
"This is not a fantasy, Jay!"
"Tell that to the severed testicles gift!"
"JAYLA!"
"Okay, okay! I’m listening!" But she was still grinning, processing the horror through humor.
Eloise pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to gather her spiraling thoughts. "Jay... I’m trying to run away. I need you to come with me. You are the only person I care about and I wouldn’t want him to hurt you for being associated with me."
Jayla had opened her mouth, but Eloise kept talking because if she didn’t, she’d break completely.
"Jay, I’m scared. For my sanity. For my life. What if I say something wrong and end up... worse than William? What if—?"
The tears had come fast and heavy, silent sobs that shook her thin frame. So heavy she couldn’t speak through them.
Jayla had simply held her. Tight. Firm. Unshaken.
What Eloise didn’t say—what she couldn’t say, even to her best friend—was the twisted attraction she didn’t want to admit. The truth that terrified her more deeply than anything else:
How she wasn’t horrified by William’s punishment—how a primitive, wounded part of her had savored the harsh, absolute justice.
How she remembered the way Luciano had yanked her hair—sharp, punishing—and the shame hit her like a wave because—
She liked it.
She liked how her body responded—traitorously—every time he stood too close. She wanted him. She wanted to kiss him until she ran out of air. She wanted to inhale him like danger made flesh.
The admission sat like a burning coal inside her chest. What kind of woman felt desire for the man who kidnapped her and threatened to ruin her life?
She’d loved William—she thought she had—but she’d only planned to give him her first time because she thought it was expected, because he waited, not because she wanted to.
With Luciano...
Her body reacted before her brain. Her thoughts weren’t innocent. Her pulse wasn’t calm.
It had only been one day, and she felt like she was losing her mind.
This attraction wasn’t normal. It wasn’t sane. It wasn’t safe.
That was why she had to run.
Before he ruined her the way he seemed to ruin everything he touched. Before she let herself want him. Before she forgot who she was entirely.
Jayla had pulled away, cupped her face, and wiped the tears from her cheeks with brutal honesty.
"I hear you. Run, El. Run far. But I’ll stay here."
Eloise had stared, shocked. "What? No. You’re coming w—"
"No." Jayla shook her head firmly. "You need distance and a clean getaway. But I’ll stay here to protect you, girl."
"What are you talking about?"
"You brought his car here, right?" Jayla pointed out, the pragmatism shining through her shock. "If there’s a tracker—and let’s be honest, there definitely is—it’ll show you’re still here. You can sleep here tonight. Run tomorrow. Leave the car. I’ll drive it across town and ditch it to buy you time."
Eloise stared at her. Her best friend. Her rock. Her beautiful, glorious chaos.
She burst into tears again—quiet this time. Because she didn’t deserve a friend like Jayla.
Now, in the present, that memory squeezed Eloise’s throat. She rinsed her mouth, then grabbed a towel, dried her face, and forced herself to breathe deeply.
She pulled on one of Jayla’s oversized hoodies, leaving the black designer dress she’d worn yesterday—in the laundry basket. The air felt heavier today, quieter, like the world already knew she was planning to disappear.
She stepped out of the washroom and headed to the tiny, cramped kitchen. Cooking helped her keep her hands busy, her mind focused. The simple rhythm of chopping, stirring, heating—normal things—felt like breathing again after days of suffocation.
Pancakes. Bacon. The sizzle and sweet smell of syrup and fat filled the tiny apartment like a spell against the encroaching darkness.
Jayla emerged from the bedroom moments later, hair a glorious, chaotic mess, eyes half-lidded with sleep. She sniffed the air dramatically.
"What am I going to do without you, El?" she whispered into Eloise’s shoulder, hugging her tightly. "Who’s going to cook me real food and yell at me for not seasoning the eggs right?"
Eloise laughed—broken, real—and hugged her back so hard her ribs creaked, then shoved her lightly. "Brush your teeth before you talk to me. Your morning breath could kill a plant."
Jayla cackled and ran to the bathroom. When she returned, they ate sitting on the floor, backs against the sofa, because the small kitchen table was far too small for the weight of everything unsaid.
Jayla drowned her stack of pancakes in syrup and talked a mile a minute—about the restaurant manager asking about Eloise, about Eric being sweet but maybe too sweet lately, about how she was going to tell everyone Eloise had a sudden family emergency up north and needed space.
Eloise nodded along, her throat tight, memorizing the sound of Jayla’s laugh, the way she licked syrup off her thumb, the exact shade of her dark eyes in the morning light.
When the plates were empty and the syrup sticky, Jayla reached across and closed her hand firmly over Eloise’s.
"Promise me something."
"Anything," Eloise whispered.
"When you’re safe—wherever you land—call me. Even if it’s a burner phone. Even if it’s just one word so I know you’re alive and he didn’t catch you."
Eloise’s eyes filled again, the fear momentarily eclipsed by love. "I promise, Jay. I promise."
jawline, a gentle curve to his lips, and a presence that was immediately calming.
"I couldn’t help but overhear your friend mention you are in quite a hurry," the man said, his voice thoughtful. "If you don’t mind me asking, where are you headed?"
Edward smiled fully now, his expression easy and flattering. "Nice name for a beautiful lady, even with the mysterious hood and baseball cap."
lungs completely.
