The golden clock didn't stop anymore.

It ticked softly through each hour of the night, like a heartbeat between two sleeping lovers. Since the fight, Elias and Amelia had begun to open the darkest doors between them, one hesitant confession at a time. He had told her about Lenka. About the hollow ache that never fully went away.

But there was something Amelia hadn't said. Not yet.

It haunted her - especially when the nights were too quiet and Elias's hand rested gently against her stomach as they slept.

This morning, the past came for her.

The letter arrived with no warning. A thick cream envelope, no return address, her name inked in perfect black cursive. She recognized the handwriting instantly.

She didn't open it.

She stuffed it in her coat pocket, shoved her shoes on, and told Elias she was going for coffee.

But she didn't go to the caf�.

She walked for hours - past Vltava's riverbanks, through alleys bursting with ivy and street art, until she ended up in the old Jewish quarter, where forgotten stones whispered old truths. She sat on a bench, heart racing, pulled the letter out, and opened it.

The first line was all she needed to read:

They released him last month. You have a right to know.

Her vision blurred. The wind bit at her cheeks, but she barely noticed.

That night, she didn't sleep. She couldn't. Elias lay beside her, one arm across her waist, trusting her completely.

And it made her feel like a fraud.

So she got up, went downstairs, and sat at the workbench where she'd first fallen for him.

He found her there at 3:12 AM.

"You okay?" he asked, voice thick with sleep, hair messy, shirtless.

"No," she said quietly. "And you need to hear why."

She didn't let him sit beside her. She needed the space. The separation.

"I told you my last relationship ended badly," she began. "But I didn't tell you what happened before that."

He said nothing, waiting.

"When I was twenty-one, I was engaged. His name was Daniel. He was charming, magnetic, brilliant - until he wasn't."

Her fingers trembled in her lap. "He isolated me. Made me think everything wrong in my life was my fault. He never hit me - but it was worse in some ways. He controlled me. My clothes. My food. My friends. He proposed when I was too tired to fight him."

Elias took a slow breath. His jaw clenched, but he still didn't interrupt.

"I tried to leave once," she said, voice cracking. "He locked me in our apartment for three days. No phone. No food. Just to teach me a lesson."

A long silence.

Then she whispered, "I pressed charges. He went to prison for five years."

Elias stepped forward, slowly, kneeling in front of her.

"You were twenty-one?" he asked gently.

She nodded.

He reached for her hands, but she didn't give them to him. Not yet.

"They just released him," she added. "I got the letter this morning. No name, but I knew who sent it. I think he's looking for me."

Elias's face darkened. Not with anger at her - but for her.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She looked away. "Because I didn't want you to see me differently. To think I was weak. Broken. Something that needs fixing."

He took her hand now - firm, unwavering.

"You're the strongest person I've ever met, Amelia."

She laughed bitterly. "No, I'm not. I've just learned how to survive."

He stood, pulled her gently into his chest. She went rigid at first - but then melted against him, body trembling. He held her like an anchor. Like he would not let her drift away.

Then he whispered into her hair:

"I don't care who he was. He doesn't get to own your story anymore."

She looked up at him, eyes raw. "What if he finds me?"

"Then he finds us."

The golden clock on the wall ticked louder than usual. Steady. Measured. Unafraid.

And for the first time, Amelia believed she wasn't alone anymore