*CHAPTER NINE* Tamar stopped going out. At first, it was subtle, like the shift of a season. She didn’t make a big announcement, nor a dramatic stop. She just stopped answering the calls, stopped replying messages, and ignored the knocks that used to draw her out into the night. She stayed home. Not because she was free, but because she was tired. And because of Manda. The girl barely spoke to her now. They moved like shadows around each other, avoiding eye contact and conversations that mattered. But Tamar still saw the pain in her eyes, the way her light dimmed more with every passing day. She knew the look too well. She wore it herself once. Still did, sometimes. So she stopped. She stopped being gloomy and moody. Not just for herself, but for Manda. Because someone had to stop the bleeding. Someone had to show that another way was possible, even though she didn’t know what that other way was yet. But something strange happened when she stopped giving herself away. She felt empty. Not clean. Not holy or sacred. Just... hollow. Like her body didn’t know what to do with itself anymore. Like her skin didn’t belong to her. Like her value—already cracked—had completely vanished. At least when she was out there, she knew what to expect. She knew how the night would go. Now? Everything was quiet. Too quiet. And that was when he showed up. His name was Elijah. Not the prophet kind. Not the fiery chariot kind. Just a man. A kind one, it seemed. With eyes too gentle for the city and a smile that disarmed her guard the first time they met. He was a customer. But not hers. They met at a corner store. She was buying instant noodles and he was asking the cashier about painkillers. Their eyes met briefly. He smiled. She didn’t. But the next time she saw him, he asked for her name. She almost didn’t give it. But something about him made her forget to be cautious. Or maybe she just wanted to feel seen. “Tamar,” she said quietly. He looked surprised. “Like the woman in the Bible?” She raised an eyebrow. “There’s more than one.” He chuckled. “Fair enough. I was thinking of the one who refused to be silent. Strong woman.” She didn’t smile, but she didn’t walk away either. And that was the beginning. He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t touch her too soon. Didn’t leer. Didn’t make her feel like a transaction. He asked questions. Real ones. About her favorite colors. Her mother. Her dream…she had none left to give. Tamar told herself it was nothing. Just conversation. But when he asked for her number, she gave it. When he asked to see her again, she said yes. She told herself he was different. That maybe, just maybe, love could be her way out. _ Their first date wasn’t really a date. Elijah called it a walk. He picked her up in an old, dented car that smelled faintly of peppermint, and they drove out to a park just on the edge of the city. The kind of place where families had picnics and couples held hands under tall, beautiful trees. Tamar hadn’t been to a park in years. She almost felt like she didn’t belong there. “You okay?” Elijah asked as they walked side by side, his hands in his pockets, hers folded tightly across her chest. She nodded. “Yeah. Just not used to… this.” He didn’t pry. He just smiled softly and kept walking. They talked. About music. About books. About how he was a mechanic by day, a guitarist by night. She laughed, really laughed, when he described how he once got shocked trying to fix a toaster he swore he could handle. “You don’t know everything, do you?” she teased. He smirked. “I know enough to know you haven’t laughed like that in a long time.” She looked away quickly, swallowing the lump in her throat. He didn’t press, just waited for her to come back when she was ready. And she did. Again and again. They met in cafes. Took walks. Talked on the phone late into the night until her eyes could no longer stay open. He never rushed her. Never asked for more than she offered. It scared her. Because it felt like kindness. And Tamar didn’t know what to do with kindness anymore. One night, while they sat in his car, parked outside her apartment building, Elijah looked at her like she was more than what the world had made her. Like she was worth something. “Why do you look at me like that?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Like what?” “Like I’m… good.” He tilted his head. “Because I see good in you.” She laughed bitterly. “Then you’re not looking hard enough.” “I’m looking exactly where I should.” She turned away, suddenly cold. “You don’t know me.” “I’m trying to.” “No,” she snapped. “You’re trying to believe a lie. You think I’m this broken girl who just needs a little love and then everything will be okay. But I’m not. I’m ruined.” His silence stung more than if he had shouted. She opened the door to leave, but his voice stopped her. “Tamar, I know you’ve been through things. And I’m not here to save you. But I am here. If you’ll let me be.” She didn’t respond. She walked into the building and closed the door behind her. And yet… she didn’t delete his number. She didn’t block his calls. Because deep down, a part of her still wanted to believe. Wanted to believe that maybe love could patch the holes in her. That maybe Elijah could be different. That maybe she could be different too. …