Page 85 of Captured Heart

When we pull away from each other, he nods toward the house. “Ready to go.”

I nod, taking in a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

When we step inside, my heart sinks. The living room is a disaster. The couch cushions are slashed, their stuffing spilling out. The bookshelf is tipped over, its contents scattered across the floor. Shattered picture frames glint in the sunlightstreaming through the window, shards of glass crunching under my shoes.

I walk over to the mess of broken memories. My grandparents’ faces stare back at me from beneath the jagged glass. I crouch down, carefully lifting a piece of the frame, trying to piece it back together like it’ll somehow fix the ache in my heart. My eyes scan over the clutter, and there’s one thing I don’t see.

“Where is it?” I whisper to myself.

I glance around the room, tossing aside pillows and papers. It’s not here. I can’t find it, and I start to panic. The compass. The one my grandfather gave to guide me through my moral dilemmas. They took it.

Alex once told me that things are just things, and they can be taken away at any time, so it’s pointless to get attached to them. Somehow, I still can’t bring myself to think like that. Because things are not just things. That was his wisdom, a lesson he gave me, a piece of him I’ll never get back.

Tears blur my vision, but I blink them away, refusing to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of them.

“Katelyn,” Karmani says softly, rushing over to wrap her arms around me. “You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

Her words break something in me, but I still can’t let the tears fall. I just nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Let’s clean this place up,” she suggests. “It’ll help. I know you, so I know you’ll feel better once everything’s back in order.”

“Yeah, what a great idea. So therapeutic,” Zayn mutters, shoving a broken chair aside. “Because nothing screams healing like going through all this mess, knowing that her privacy was violated in such a heinous way.”

Karmani glares at him. “You could do us all a favor and just leave.”

“And miss this bonding time?” he smirks. “Never.”

Karmani smacks his arm, and they start bickering again. I don’t mind, though. Not at all. Their voices fill the room, and for the first time in weeks, I feel a flicker of normalcy. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them, missed this, until now.

But yet even in this bittersweet moment with my friends, Alex creeps into my mind. The guilt seems to escalate every time I think about him. He’s the reason I’m here, the reason I get to have this. He didn’t have to come back for me, but he did. He didn’t have to help me escape, but he did. He sacrificed everything for me.

I can’t forget him. I won’t.

But what can I do? I promised him I wouldn’t look for him. I promised to move on. All I can do is live, breathe, and soak up every moment of this freedom he gave me. Because that’s the only way to truly honor the gift he’s given me.

18. Katelyn

The shuffle of papers blends with the murmured conversations in the lecture hall. I sit near the middle, surrounded by a sea of students, my notebook open in front of me. I try to focus, scribbling notes to prepare for the lecture, but my grip on the pen is too tight, my movements jerky. Every time the door swings open, my heart leaps into my throat.

When a hand lands gently on my shoulder, I yelp, twisting around in my seat.

“Relax,” Corey says, his brow furrowing as he pulls his hand back. “It’s just me.”

I exhale slowly, my pulse pounding in my ears. It’s been six weeks, and I still react like this. I need to get a grip.

“Sorry. I didn’t hear you coming, and...and I’m just so edgy lately.”

Understatement. Every unexpected noise, every shadow, sends me spiraling. I sleep with the lights on. The sound of footsteps on the sidewalk outside makes me flinch. Even now, surrounded by people in this lecture hall, I’m scanning for exits, counting how many steps it would take to get to the door if I had to run.

Corey doesn’t push. He’s good that way, like he knows when I need space to pull myself together. I grip my pen tighter, willing myself to shake it off.

He offers me a soft smile, sliding into the seat beside me. “Given what you’ve been through, it’s perfectly understandable.”

The professor strides to the front of the hall, his voice cutting through the buzz of conversation. “All right, settle down. Today, we’re diving into the mechanisms of genetic recombination and how CRISPR-Cas9 technology is revolutionizing gene editing.”

I try to concentrate. I really do. But the words blur together, abstract concepts that seem to float just out of reach. I scribble half-hearted notes, forcing myself to stay present. This is precisely the reason I came back. I wanted to reclaim my life, to prove to myself (and to Victor) that he didn’t win. But as the professor’s voice drones on, all I can think about is how hard it is to act like nothing happened.

When the lecture ends, I follow Corey to the library. The familiar smell of old books and polished wood wraps around me like a blanket, comforting in its predictability. We find a quiet corner, spreading out our notes to finalize our project.

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