Ellen unlocked the door to her apartment and stood still in the doorway, her hand resting on the handle, her fingers trembling slightly as she pushed the door open wider. She let out a long, slow breath and hesitated, her eyes scanning the space as if she was seeing it for the first time. Somehow it felt strange, as though she’d returned to a life she barely remembered. A place she never thought she’d see again.
She finally walked in, each foot feeling heavy as she strolled through her small living room. Her eyes lingered on every detail: the worn-out couch by the window, the stack of books on the coffee table that she’d left untouched, and the framed pictures on the wall, all part of a life that once felt whole. Now, it all seemed distant, faded, as if these belongings were mere props for someone else’s story. Her fingers brushed over the edge of the table, and she closed her eyes, taking in a shaky breath.
The bus company—or the insurance, she wasn’t even sure which, anymore—had provided her with compensation for the accident. They’d paid off her hospital bills and given her enough to cover the rent for a few more months. It should have been a relief. The last thing she’d wanted was to end up on the streets, especially after losing her previous job, which had been her only hope. But relief was something she hadn’t felt at all. There was a hollowness in her chest that no amount of compensation could fill.
For the past few weeks, she had forced herself out of bed each morning, pretending she was ready to face each day. She’d told herself that she could pick up the pieces, start fresh, find a new job, and go back to the person she used to be. But who was she lying to? It felt like she was dragging herself along day by day. Her heart wasn’t in it, and every "no" she got only made her feel worse.
At night, when she lay in bed, she’d keep her phone on her chest, waiting—for what, she didn’t know. She’d scroll through the same online novel she had once read obsessively, even though she knew it might not have anything new. She kept hoping for... something. Another Chapter, a hidden note, a message from the author. She’d even tried leaving comments, as though her words could somehow reach him. Each night, she found herself opening that novel, scrolling through the familiar text, searching for any sign of connection to the world she used to live in.
In an odd way, she’d begun to document her days in a small journal, writing down her every thought, every small memory of her life as Ellen Winters. Maybe she feared forgetting, or perhaps she simply wanted to hold on to something real—her memories of that other world. She couldn’t explain it fully, but recording it gave her a strange sense of comfort, a reminder that what she’d been through wasn’t just in her head.
Outside, she found herself wandering around aimlessly most days, never truly feeling at home. Out of all the places she could go, she often ended up at the bus stop, sitting there quietly, as if waiting for some portal to open up and take her back. After all, it was a bus accident that had first taken her to that other world. Maybe, just maybe, if she waited long enough, something would happen again.
This evening, she was at the bus stop, seeing the streetlamps light up as the sun went down. The world was pretty quiet, with only the faint sound of cars driving by far away. She was just lost in thought, her eyes tracing the lines of the sidewalk, when she noticed a woman sitting down beside her.
The woman’s presence was oddly comforting, yet Ellen couldn’t shake a feeling of unease. She hadn’t even heard her approach. For a moment, they sat in silence, side by side, with only the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze.
Then, without turning her head, the woman asked, "Do you want to head home?"
Ellen’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, and she looked around to see if anyone else was nearby. But the street was empty, just the two of them at the bus stop. It became clear that the woman was talking to her. Ellen hesitated before answering, feeling slightly foolish. "Yeah... I suppose," she said softly, almost to herself, unsure why she was confiding in a stranger.
The woman nodded, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, as if watching something far in the distance. "But if you go home," she said quietly, "you’ll have to let go of everything you have here."
Ellen blinked, taken aback by the odd statement. She turned to face the woman fully, her brows knitting together. "What... what do you mean by that?"
The woman’s eyes met hers, full of depth and understanding, with a sadness that seemed to hold centuries’ worth of understanding. "He’s free now," she continued. "Because of you, he’s let go of the anger, the hurt. You saved him, Ellen."
Ellen’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt a cold shiver run down her spine. "Whose heart are you talking about?"
The woman gave her a small, sad smile. "He loves you very much. More than you know."
Ellen slowly rose to her feet, feeling her heart race as wave of dread settled around her. She took a step back, naturally distancing herself from the woman. "I... I need to go," she stammered, feeling the need to escape from this strange conversation. She turned, ready to walk away, but the woman’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
"It was nice talking to you, Ellen."
Ellen froze, a chill creeping through her veins. She hadn’t told the woman her name. How does she even know my name?!
Slowly, she turned back, but the seat was empty. The woman was gone, as if she’d never been there at all.