Elliot stood in front of Olivia's door, his knuckles lightly tapping against the wood, a slight frown etched on his face. He'd knocked several times, but there was no answer. His hand hovered near the handle, a pit of unease in his stomach. Maybe she was asleep, maybe she was just being stubborn about not responding—but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
His thoughts raced. He knew he was being overprotective, maybe even a little irrational, but he couldn't help it.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out the key she'd given him, the key that had once felt like a harmless symbol of trust. Now, it seemed to carry a weight—a responsibility. He slid it into the lock, the click of the door feeling louder than it should.
Inside, the apartment was quiet. The living room was dimly lit by the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. And there, on the couch, lay Olivia, curled up in an awkward position, her head resting on the armrest, her body slumped in an uncharacteristic stillness.
He swallowed hard. This wasn't the strong, capable Olivia he knew—she looked...defeated. Her face was pale, her hair disheveled, and a faint line of drool had dripped from the corner of her mouth, dried on her cheek. He wanted to rush to her, shake her awake, make sure she was okay—but there was something that stopped him. He didn't want to startle her.
Instead, he knelt beside the couch, gently brushing a lock of hair away from her face. "Olivia," he murmured, his voice soft but insistent.
She jolted awake, eyes flying open with a sharp gasp. Her body stiffened, her eyes wild and panicked for a split second before they focused on him. A flicker of recognition passed through her, but it was quickly replaced by something darker, a flash of confusion and fear. She sat up abruptly, rubbing her face in an almost frantic motion.
"Elliot—what the hell?" she snapped, her voice hoarse, still heavy with sleep. "Why are you—"
He recoiled slightly, the fear he'd seen in her eyes registering with him like a punch to the gut. "Olivia, what's going on? You...I was worried about you."
She froze, her expression shifting from frustration to something else—a mix of discomfort and guilt, maybe. She glanced around the room, her gaze darting to the door as if trying to piece together what had just happened.
"Don't just let yourself in like that," she snapped, still ruffled, but her tone was less sharp now. "That's...that's not okay."
"I'm sorry," Elliot said quickly, hands raised in surrender. "I just...I knocked, and you didn't answer. I was worried. You weren't coming to the door, and I—" He stopped himself, unsure how to express the tight knot of anxiety he'd felt creeping up his throat. "I'm sorry. I just needed to make sure you're okay."
Elliot shifted from his crouched position in front of her and settled next to her on the couch, the cushions sinking slightly under his weight. Olivia scooted up into a sitting position to make room for him, drawing her knees toward her chest. She looked at him guardedly, her eyes still cloudy with sleep.
She sighed and leaned back against the couch, as though the effort of sitting upright was already too much. "I'm fine," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "It was just a long night."
Her words hit him like a slap, the way she said "long night" with a weariness that ran deeper than physical exhaustion. Elliot's eyes swept over her quickly, scanning for bruises or any other sign of injury. Seeing nothing obvious, a darker fear took root in his mind. Had Daniel pushed her to do something she wasn't ready for? The thought made his stomach churn; the way her shoulders hunched and her body seemed to curl inward, like she was trying to make herself smaller, suddenly set off alarms in his head. She avoided his gaze, and for a moment, he felt like he was pushing too far, prying into something she wasn't ready to share.
"You don't look fine, Olivia," Elliot said gently, his voice more insistent now. He wasn't buying it. Not with how rough she looked, how tired she seemed, how small she had become in that moment. There was something wrong, something more than just a long night. Her disheveled appearance, her jittery movements—he could tell. "What happened? What did Daniel do?"
Her eyes flickered up at him sharply, the briefest spark of something defensive flashing in her gaze, and then, just as quickly, she lowered her eyes. She swallowed, as though preparing for an onslaught of questions she didn't want to answer.
"No," she said quickly, shaking her head, her voice tight. "It wasn't like that. He didn't...it wasn't like that."
Her words were quick, almost too quick. Elliot could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he absorbed her response, and a cold sense of dread settled deep inside him. His mind raced, jumping to conclusions he hadn't wanted to entertain. He didn't want to assume, didn't want to overreact, but everything about her seemed to scream that something bad had happened.
"What do you mean, 'it wasn't like that'?" His voice was more forceful now, not angry, but frantic, laced with raw concern. "He didn't...hurt you, did he?" The words tasted bitter in his mouth as he said them, but he had to know. The image of Daniel's smug, entitled face flashed in his mind, and the idea of him pushing Olivia to do something she didn't want to do made a sickening knot coil in his gut. He hated the thought of Olivia being treated like an object for someone else's desires.
Her eyes snapped up to his again, a flicker of fear darting across her face, followed by the familiar flash of anger. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, as if choosing her words carefully.
"I—I don't wanna talk about it," she muttered, turning her face away slightly, her voice tight. The way she tried to shrink away from the conversation told him everything he needed to know.
Elliot's hands balled into fists in his lap, a surge of anger flooding his chest. His impulse was to storm out, confront Daniel, and deal with him right then and there. But he forced himself to take a breath, to try and control the rush of fury. His voice, though, still carried that edge of anger as he looked at Olivia. "Olivia, please..." He leaned closer, his gaze intense. "I just need to know if you're okay. Did he...did he touch you? Did he make you do something you didn't want?"
She flinched, her body recoiling like he'd slapped her. The look she gave him then—it wasn't fear of Daniel, but of him. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, and the guilt and shame in them were impossible to ignore. "No!" she said quickly, almost too quickly again. "He didn't...not in that way, okay? I told you, it wasn't like that. God, Elliot!"
But Elliot wasn't convinced. He could see it in her eyes, the hesitation, the way she kept deflecting his questions. She was scared—of him, of Daniel, of the situation, or maybe all three. And that unsettled him more than anything else. There was something deeper here, something that wasn't just about what Daniel did or didn't do. Olivia was clearly struggling with more than just a "long night."
He leaned in further, careful not to crowd her, but his voice was steady now, his gaze unwavering. "Then what was it, Olivia? I need to understand." His tone was softer, gentler now, but the underlying urgency was still there. "I'm not going to leave until I know you're okay."
At his words, something flickered in Olivia's expression—an involuntary tension that stiffened her shoulders. Her breath hitched, and her eyes darted toward the door, as though she was weighing an escape. The memory of Daniel's voice, his refusal to leave, echoed in her mind, and her heart began to race. She clenched her fists against the phantom sensation of his hands on her shoulders, a shiver running through her as she remembered his suffocating presence.
But Elliot wasn't Daniel. She knew that.
The difference was stark, like night and day. Daniel's refusal to leave had been about control, about asserting his dominance, about forcing his presence where it wasn't wanted. But Elliot...Elliot was here because he cared. He hadn't ignored her boundaries or pushed himself on her. He would never.
If she asked him to leave, she knew—deep down, without question—that he would honour her.
She exhaled shakily, unclenching her fists, and forced herself to meet his gaze again. There was no demand in his eyes, no expectation. Only concern. Genuine, unyielding concern.
"It was just...it was awkward. He was persistent. It wasn't about that, though, okay? He didn't... I don't know, he didn't make me do anything I didn't want to. But...but he was here, Elliot. He wouldn't leave. And I...I just didn't know how to get him to leave."
Her voice faltered on the last words, and she bit her lip as though trying to keep it together. Elliot could feel the weight of her admission pressing down on him like a heavy stone.
"God, Olivia," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. The dizzying relief he felt—knowing she hadn't been hurt in the way he'd feared—made him feel sick with guilt. It was still awful, still too much, but he couldn't stop the flood of gratitude that she was here, safe, telling him this. "You should've called me."
But even as he said it, a different part of him—something more primal—was still gnawing at him, still worried that Daniel's presence had left something more than just awkwardness behind. The way Olivia was holding herself, the way her voice cracked when she spoke about him, made him feel like there was more to the story that she wasn't ready to share. And he had to respect that, even if it killed him to let her keep her secrets.
Olivia sighed again, rubbing her face with both hands as if trying to pull herself together. She looked down at the floor, then back up at him. "It wasn't...it wasn't a big deal," she said, but the words sounded forced, like she was convincing herself more than him. "He was just...persistent. Told me he wanted to take care of me, but I wasn't feeling it, and it was awkward. But that's all. I'm fine."
Elliot felt his jaw tighten, and his temper flared again. But before he could push harder, he caught himself. He knew this wasn't going to work. No anger, no blaming. Instead, he forced himself to breathe, and his voice softened, though it still held a sharp edge. "This is important. You can't just dismiss it. This is a big deal."
Olivia let out a sigh, the weariness in her voice palpable. "I'm fine. Really. I wasn't hurt. I wasn't...I wasn't hurt like that. He didn't do anything wrong. Not really." She almost sounded defensive, but it was more from exhaustion than anything else, her voice a little too high-pitched, too quick to shield herself from something she knew wasn't right but couldn't face yet.
Elliot's heart thudded painfully in his chest. He wasn't buying it. Not for a second. His voice dropped low. "Olivia, he made you feel like you had no other choice but to tolerate his presence. That's not okay. That's not something you just brush off. You have to know that."
Olivia let out a slow breath, the weight of her exhaustion evident in the way she rubbed at her temples. Her gaze drifted to the floor, then back up to him. Her eyes were wide, as if she were looking at him for the first time. She was trying to find the words, but they came out in fragments, her voice fragile yet steady.
"I don't know why I was so worried about hurting his feelings," she said, almost to herself. "I mean, why was I more concerned with how he'd feel than how I felt? That's...that's not me. But I couldn't shake it. He just kept saying he wanted to take care of me, and I...I shut down. I couldn't...push him away. And I hate that."
Her eyes fluttered shut, her chest tightening as the weight of it all sank in. I did say no, she thought, her mind replaying the moments over and over again. She had said it—again and again—when he asked to come over, when he wanted to stay the night. But Daniel hadn't listened. Not once.
The realization settled in like a cold pebble in her stomach. She hadn't wanted to fight anymore, hadn't wanted to keep pushing back. In the end, it felt easier to just... tolerate it. She had stopped saying no because it was the only way to make it stop. And once she did, it was as if her voice, her choices, had been silenced in that room. She wasn't allowed to assert herself, to protect her boundaries. She had no say.
A tear slid down her cheek before she could stop it, and she quickly wiped it away, but the sob that followed sounded foreign to her. It wasn't loud—it wasn't anything dramatic—but it was raw.
Without saying a word, Elliot moved toward her. His arms wrapped around her tightly, pulling her into a hug. At first, she stiffened, her body rigid against him, but after a long moment, she let herself soften, leaning into him.
Elliot vibrated with anger as he held her, his arms tense around her trembling form. His mind was spinning, rage bubbling just under the surface. How dare he? How dare Daniel not listen when she said no? He'd taken her kindness for granted, twisted it into something it never should have been. That was not okay. It would never be okay.
But what shook him even more was Olivia herself. Tears. Tears were not her thing. She had always been the strong one, the one who swallowed her pain and carried on like nothing could touch her. Seeing her like this—vulnerable, raw, the walls she always kept up crumbling in his arms—was a gut punch. It underscored just how deep the wound went. She wasn't just shaken; she was hurt, truly hurt, and Elliot didn't know how to fix it. He couldn't fix it, and that realization cut him almost as deeply as his anger burned.
He tightened his hold on her as if trying to absorb some of the pain she was feeling, his heart breaking at the thought of how much she'd endured alone. This wasn't just about Daniel ignoring her boundaries—it was about how someone as strong as Olivia had been pushed to a place where she felt powerless. Where she felt she had to let something happen because fighting against it had been too exhausting.
His jaw clenched so hard it ached. This wasn't just disrespect; it was a violation of who Olivia was at her core. And the fact that Daniel had dismissed her "no"—not once, but repeatedly—made Elliot's blood boil. He was nothing but a coward, preying on her kindness, exploiting her patience. And if this was how he treated her now, what would he do next time, when the stakes were even higher?
Elliot's voice was thick with barely restrained fury when he finally spoke, his words cutting through the stillness. "This isn't okay, Olivia. None of this is okay. He didn't listen to you, not once. And if he won't listen now, what happens the next time you tell him no? What happens when he wants something more, and you don't?"
She didn't respond, just shuddered against him, her breath hitching. He loosened his grip slightly, giving her the space to pull away if she wanted, but she stayed. She melted further into his embrace, her forehead resting against his shoulder. For a moment, they stayed like that, the silence heavy with unspoken pain and simmering anger. Elliot's thoughts raced, but one thing was crystal clear: Daniel's behaviour wasn't just a warning sign—it was a pattern. One that couldn't be ignored.
Olivia pulled back finally, her fingers tightening on the throw pillow in her lap. "He...he said we've been dating for seven weeks, like there's some kind of timeline I'm supposed to follow." Her voice cracked, and she blinked hard, swiping her nose with the back of one hand. "He brought up my past, Elliot. Said I've been with men in less time before. Like I owed him that—like I owed him anything."
Elliot shot to his feet, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he snapped, his voice sharp and furious. The sheer audacity of Daniel's words, the way he'd tried to manipulate her, ignited a fire of anger that burned white-hot in his chest. "That piece of—" He stopped himself, pacing the room like a caged animal before turning back to her, his eyes blazing.
"You don't owe him a damn thing, Olivia," he said, his voice louder now, each word sharp with conviction. "You don't owe him an explanation, or the emotional labor of protecting his ego. And you sure as hell don't owe him your body. Kick his ass out if he ever comes near you again. You deserve better than this," he growled, his tone softening but no less fierce. "So much better."
Olivia blinked, stunned by the force of his anger, but it wasn't directed at her—it was for her. The intensity of his words hit her like a shock to the system, leaving her both shaken and unexpectedly comforted.
She exhaled shakily, her lips trembling as she looked up at him, searching his face. Slowly, she nodded, her throat tight with emotion.
Her tears spilled over again, but this time, she didn't stop them. Just a few, quiet and cathartic.
"I know," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just...I didn't realize I'd let it get that far. I didn't realize I was so willing to protect him. But I'm going to handle this. I can handle this." Her voice was quieter, a soft conviction growing behind the words as she spoke them aloud.
Elliot nodded, dropping to the couch beside her again. "You can," he said gently, his voice firm with support. "If you need me to be there when you tell him, I will."
Olivia leaned back, looking up at him, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes.
But then, without thinking, he blurted, "I looked him up. At work. Daniel. I—I just needed to know who he was, what kind of guy he is."
Olivia's eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in a mix of frustration and something else—hurt, maybe. She stood up this time, her hands pressing against the couch as if to steady herself. "You what?" Her voice was sharp, incredulous. "You can't just go around doing that!"
Elliot opened his mouth, but she wasn't done. "I'm not Kathleen or Lizzie, El! I don't need you to fix everything. I'm not..." She hesitated, biting her lip to hold back whatever was coming next. "You're acting like I'm helpless. Like I can't make my own decisions."
The words hit him harder than he expected, and his chest tightened. He'd crossed a line, and it stung. She's right, he realized. He had overstepped. He hadn't meant to, but he had. In that moment, he understood something deeper: by looking into Daniel's life without asking her, he had done exactly what Daniel had done—taken away her agency. It didn't matter that his intentions were pure; in that act, he'd treated her as if she couldn't handle it herself. Just like Daniel had disregarded her boundaries, he had disregarded her ability to make her own decisions. He couldn't do that, even out of concern.
Elliot stood too, his movements slow and deliberate, as though trying not to escalate the tension. Now eye to eye with her, he softened his stance, his hands loosely at his sides, ready but not imposing.
"I just wanted to make sure you were safe," he said quietly, trying to ease the tension, but it didn't quite reach her. The words felt weak now, empty against the weight of what he had just realized. He had acted impulsively, driven by fear. He had wanted to protect her, but in doing so, he had made her feel small—like she couldn't handle things herself. And that was the last thing she deserved: another layer of control, another attempt to undermine her agency. He couldn't do that to her, not even with the best of intentions.
Olivia sighed, running her hands through her hair, her frustration still evident but a little softer now. "I know you care, Elliot, but I don't need you playing detective with me."
The words hung in the air for a moment before the unintended humour of the phrase hit them both. A flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth despite herself, and Elliot caught it, his own lips quirking upward in response.
"Playing detective?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "You do know that's literally my job, right?"
She rolled her eyes, but the tension between them eased just slightly. "I'm not one of your cases, Elliot. I don't need you interrogating my...love life," she said, the words coming out with a mix of exasperation and dry humour.
Elliot chuckled, though there was still an undercurrent of guilt in his tone. "Okay, fair point. But, for the record, I wasn't interrogating. Just...fact-finding."
Olivia huffed out a laugh despite herself, shaking her head. "See? This is exactly what I mean. It's not your job to fact-find me, either."
He raised his hands in mock surrender, his smile softening. "Alright, alright. No more playing detective. I promise." Then, after a beat, his smile turned sly. "But I gotta admit, it's a good triple entendre."
She tilted her head, mockingly curious. "Oh, yeah? And what are the three?"
"Well, there's the obvious one: me being an actual detective," he said, holding up a finger. "Then there's the whole 'playing detective' like snooping where I shouldn't. And the third..." He paused, clearly enjoying himself. "The connotation. You know, playing detective with you."
Olivia groaned, but her lips twitched upward again. "God, you're insufferable."
Elliot grinned, some of the earlier heaviness lifting as they shared the moment. "Yeah, but I made you smile. That's gotta count for something."
His expression turned serious again. "I am sorry," he said quietly, his voice low with regret. "I didn't mean to overstep. I just...I was worried."
Olivia's eyes met his, still guarded but less sharp now, the edges of her frustration dulling. She exhaled slowly, some of the weight lifting from her shoulders. "I get it," she said, her voice softer, though a hint of weariness remained. "I do. But I need you to trust me, okay? I've got this. I can handle it."
His protective instincts, the ones that had driven him to cross lines without thinking, were still there—still screaming for him to do something. But her steady gaze told him all he needed to know: she wasn't asking for a saviour. She was asking for support. For trust.
Elliot gave a small nod, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to step back emotionally. "I know you can," he said finally, his voice low but sure. "I do. I just... It's hard for me to see you go through something like this and not want to fix it. But you're right. It's not my job to step in."
Her lips curved into the faintest smile, tired but genuine. "Thanks, El," she said quietly, even as she guided him to the door.
Still, he lingered, unable to stop himself from adding one last thing. "But if he doesn't fuck off," Elliot said, his tone darkening as his jaw clenched slightly, "if he keeps pushing past boundaries, you let me know. I mean it, Liv. This guy's got a pattern, and patterns like that don't stop on their own."
Olivia raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "I'll handle it," she replied firmly, though her voice softened just a touch as she added, "But if I need backup, I'll call. Deal?"
Elliot held her gaze for a long moment before nodding. "Deal."
Olivia shifted, rubbing her hands over her arms, her earlier defences slipping away entirely. She looked tired, drained. But he saw something else in her, too: resolve.
"Okay," he said. "Then I'll get out of your way. But seriously, Liv—if you need anything, anytime—"
"I know," she interrupted softly, her eyes meeting his. "I know."
Elliot hesitated, then gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before heading toward the door. As he reached it, he glanced back. "You've got this," he said, his voice filled with quiet conviction.
She gave him a small, tired smile in return. "I do."
And with that, he left, letting the door click shut behind him.