The Glow of Safety
By Olivia Salter
Word Count: 938
Sophia didn’t notice the man on her favorite park bench until she was close enough to read the title of his book: The Body Keeps the Score.
The title hit like a lightning bolt. She froze, the coffee cup in her hand trembling slightly. Why that book? Of all books?
“Sorry,” the man said, looking up. His voice was soft, calm. His face was open, kind. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t,” she lied.
He nodded toward the bench. “This is your spot, isn’t it?”
“It’s a public bench,” she said, gripping her coffee tighter.
The man offered a faint smile and shifted slightly, as if to give her space. After a moment’s hesitation, she sat at the far edge, the quiet between them stretching long but not uncomfortable.
Sophia had been coming to the park for weeks, escaping the suffocating quiet of her apartment. She thought of it as a no-man’s-land—a neutral zone where memories of Marcus couldn’t reach.
That day, the man on the bench became part of her ritual. His name was Ethan, and he seemed harmless, though she didn’t trust her instincts anymore. They spoke sparingly at first—small talk about the weather, a shared comment about an overzealous squirrel.
By the third week, he broke their unspoken rules.
“Do you come here to escape, or to find something?” he asked one crisp morning.
Sophia startled, her guard snapping back into place. “That’s an odd question.”
Ethan shrugged. “Maybe. But it feels like you’re searching for something when you sit here.”
She didn’t answer, but the question lingered long after he left.
Their casual exchanges turned into regular walks, coffee dates, and longer conversations. Ethan’s questions were disarming in their simplicity:
“What’s your favorite song?”
“When was the last time you laughed?”
“What’s your happiest memory?”
Sophia realized how hard it was to answer, her life with Marcus an endless stretch of pleasing, managing, and surviving.
When she finally asked Ethan about himself, his answer was unexpected. “I’m a work in progress,” he admitted. “I’ve spent too much time running from things. But I’m trying to stop.”
The words struck a chord in her, though she didn’t press.
One night, as they walked under the park’s flickering streetlights, Ethan asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re bracing for something bad to happen, even when things are fine?”
The question made her breath catch. “All the time,” she admitted quietly.
Two weeks later, Marcus showed up outside her office. He leaned against his car with his signature smirk and a bouquet of red roses.
“Sophia,” he called, his voice dripping with charm.
Her chest tightened, anger bubbling beneath her fear. “What do you want, Marcus?”
“To talk. I miss you.”
The flowers, the smile—it was all so calculated, so familiar. Once, she would’ve melted. Now, it made her skin crawl.
“I’m seeing someone,” she said, her voice steady.
Marcus’s smirk dropped, replaced by a dark edge. “That supposed to scare me off?” He grabbed her wrist, his grip firm but not hard enough to draw attention.
Before she could pull away, Ethan’s voice cut through.
“Is there a problem here?” Ethan’s tone was calm but firm as he approached.
Marcus scoffed, releasing her. “So this is the new guy? Doesn’t look like much.”
Sophia stepped between them, her heart racing but her determination to split them stronger. “Leave, Marcus. Now.”
For the first time, she saw uncertainty in his eyes. With a muttered curse, he walked away, tossing the roses into a trash can.
Ethan didn’t speak, just waited until she turned to him, her face flushed. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.
Sophia nodded, surprising herself with how steady she felt. “Yeah. I am.”
The next morning, Sophia opened her door to find a petite woman standing nervously on her stoop. Her dark eyes were tired, her hands gripping a small notebook.
“Hi,” the woman said, her voice trembling. “I’m Rachel. I think you’re seeing Ethan.”
Sophia’s stomach dropped. “I am. Who are you?”
Rachel shifted her weight. “I’m his ex. I’m not here to cause trouble, but... I think you should know something. He’s kind, but when things get serious, he leaves.”
Sophia’s throat tightened. “Why are you telling me this?”
Rachel hesitated, her eyes welling up. “Because I didn’t see it coming. And I wish I had.”
That evening, Sophia met Ethan at the park. They sat on the bench, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words.
“I met Rachel today,” she said, watching his reaction closely.
Ethan stiffened slightly, but he didn’t look away. “What did she say?”
“She said you leave when things get hard. Is it true?”
Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “It was. I didn’t know how to face things back then, so I ran. But I’m not that person anymore.”
Sophia studied him, the sincerity in his eyes clashing with the warning in Rachel’s voice. “How do I know you won’t run from me?”
“You don’t,” he said simply. “But I want to stay. And if you’ll let me, I’ll prove it to you.”
The raw honesty in his words startled her. For the first time, she saw him not as a savior, but as someone trying, just like her.
She looked away, her gaze drifting to the bench they shared. It wasn’t just her spot anymore—it was theirs.
“Okay,” she said softly. “But no running.”
Ethan smiled faintly and reached for her hand, his touch light but steady.
For the first time, Sophia felt something new: not just hope, but the kind of safety that let her finally begin to heal.
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