Unconventional

Tall

The train rattled beneath her, the rhythmic clack of the wheels on the tracks offering a strange kind of comfort as Jennifer sank into her seat. She had managed to board the late-night train just in time, her breath still heavy from rushing through the station. Her suitcase sat by her feet, and she clutched her stomach with both hands, her fingers resting protectively over the swell where her baby grew.

The train car was mostly empty, a few scattered passengers dozing off or staring blankly at their phones. Jennifer turned her face toward the window, her eyes tracing the dark shapes of the landscape as it rushed past. The city lights faded quickly into the distance, swallowed by the night, leaving only shadows and the occasional flicker of a passing town. She could barely make out anything in the foggy darkness, but she kept staring, her thoughts swirling as fast as the moving world outside.

Her hand instinctively rubbed her belly, the baby shifting softly under her touch. It was a small reminder of why she was doing this—why she was running. For the first time in what felt like forever, she had the smallest glimmer of hope that they might be okay. But that hope was fragile, hanging by a thread.

Jennifer leaned her head against the cold window, closing her eyes for a moment. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, but her mind wouldn't let her rest. She fumbled in her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone, unlocking it with shaky fingers. A tight knot formed in her stomach as she saw the barrage of notifications. **Emilio.**

Her pulse quickened as she scrolled through the messages—dozens of them, all from him. Each one more vicious than the last.

"Where the fuck are you?"

"You think you can hide from me?"

"You're nothing without me. You hear me?"

"When I find you, you'll wish you never left."

"You're ruining my life, you selfish bitch."

"Answer me!"

Jennifer's heart pounded, her breath catching in her throat as she read the angry, hateful words. Each message felt like a punch to the gut, a reminder of the control he still tried to exert over her, even from afar. The venom in his texts, the sheer anger and possessiveness, was everything she'd spent a week running from. And now, it was right here again, staring back at her from the screen.

She could feel the familiar fear rising, threatening to swallow her whole. Her fingers hovered over the phone, tempted to respond, to defend herself, to fight back. But she stopped.

Instead, she just stared at the screen for a long moment. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she locked the phone and set it down beside her, leaving his texts on read.

No response. No more control.

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words hurt. Not anymore. He could rage and scream and threaten all he wanted, but she was done.

The train rumbled on, carrying her farther away from him with every mile. Jennifer rested her hand on her belly again, feeling a small flutter of movement beneath her skin. It was the tiniest reminder that she wasn't alone, that she had something worth fighting for, something worth protecting.

She leaned back in her seat, her eyes drifting back to the darkness outside. The world beyond the window was uncertain, and so was her future. But for now, she was moving forward. Away from Emilio. Away from the fear.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt a small, quiet sense of peace.

————

Emilio sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. The inside of the car was eerily quiet, the only sound the low hum of the engine as he idled in the parking lot. His phone buzzed on the dashboard, the screen lighting up with another notification, but it wasn't what he wanted.

He had sent message after message, his anger escalating with each one. The first few had been demands for answers—"Where are you?" "Get back here."—but when she didn't respond, the tone of his texts had grown darker, more aggressive. He needed control. Needed her back. She couldn't just leave him like this, not when she was carrying his kid. She was his. She always had been.

His eyes darted back to his phone, impatience boiling over. He snatched it up, scrolling through the angry texts he'd sent, one after another, his thumb swiping rapidly across the screen. And then, he saw it.

Read

The small, gray word sat at the bottom of his last message, taunting him. She'd seen them. She had read every single one of his messages, and yet she still hadn't responded.

"Fucking bitch," Emilio muttered under his breath, his face twisting with fury. He threw the phone down onto the passenger seat, the impact causing it to bounce off the leather. His chest heaved as his rage grew, his mind racing. She was ignoring him. She had left him on read like he was nothing, like he didn't matter.

She thought she could just run? Just walk away from him?

He knew Jennifer wasn't smart enough to disappear without a trace. She didn't have the means or the brains for that. He was convinced she'd make a mistake sooner or later, and when she did, he would find her. He had ways of tracking people down—he knew people who could help if it came to that. But the fact that she had seen his messages, that she had *dared* to leave them unanswered, that cut deeper than he expected.

For Emilio, it wasn't just about the baby. It was about power. He had built his world around controlling her, and now, for the first time, she was slipping out of his grasp.

He grabbed his phone again, his thumb hovering over the screen as he contemplated sending more texts, maybe even calling her. But something stopped him. The fact that she had seen the messages was enough proof that she wasn't cowering somewhere in fear. She wasn't hiding from him like he wanted her to be. No—Jennifer was standing her ground, ignoring him, trying to shut him out.

His mind raced, a mixture of rage and disbelief swirling inside him. He had underestimated her. He thought he had broken her completely, thought that she would never have the courage to leave. But here she was, running away, reading his threats, and refusing to come crawling back.

Emilio's jaw tightened as he shoved the phone back into his pocket, his pulse pounding in his ears. Fine. Let her play her little game for now. She could ignore his texts all she wanted, but she wouldn't get far.

He would find her.

And when he did, she'd learn that leaving him was the worst mistake she had ever made.