RED NOTES AND KISSES-Chapter 13: FRIDA -

The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint hum of chatter around her, but it all felt distant, like background noise to the storm raging in her mind.

She sat motionless in the corner of the coffee shop, her fingers curling tightly around the edges of her phone, its screen dark and reflective, mirroring her troubled expression.

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The book lying open before her was nothing more than a prop, its words blurred and meaningless to her unseeing eyes.

She could call 911.

It would be easy, just three numbers.

A few spoken words could unravel it all, put an end to the tightrope she'd been walking for months, maybe years.

Her thumb hovered over the screen, trembling slightly.

The simple motion felt monumental, as though the weight of her entire life rested on this one decision.

But no. Her grip tightened around the phone. Her jaw set, her heart steadied, and a spark of something raw and defiant flickered to life in her chest.

She wouldn't let him win. If he wanted to play games, she would play too. The thought sent a shiver through her, half fear, half exhilaration.

She wasn't the same naive girl she'd been when this began. He thought he could break her, thought he could keep her under his thumb.

But he had underestimated her.

The air felt charged now, the coffee shop's ambient warmth a sharp contrast to the icy resolve hardening inside her.

She stared at the phone again, not with fear this time, but with determination.

If he wanted to test her, then she'd push right back.

The thought of outmaneuvering him, of flipping the game on its head, made her pulse quicken.

The door to the coffee shop swung open, letting in a gust of cold air that prickled her skin.

Her gaze flicked up, a reflex she hadn't yet unlearned, and her heart skipped before settling.

Not him. Just a stranger, their face unfamiliar. She let out a slow breath, steadying herself.

Her coffee sat untouched, its warmth fading, but she didn't care.

She didn't need comfort; she needed clarity. Her other hand slid to the book before her, its spine cracked from weeks of intense reading, a reminder of simpler times.

She traced the edges of the pages absently, her mind racing with possibilities.

If he wanted her to break, he'd have to try harder. She wasn't just surviving anymore; she was strategizing.

The game had shifted.

She leaned back in her chair, tilting her chin slightly, her lips curling into the faintest trace of a smirk.

For the first time in what felt like ages, the fear didn't grip her as tightly. Her phone sat on the table now, silent, a weapon waiting to be wielded.

Let him come.

Let him try.

She was ready.