elenaduarte

[elenaduarte]

closed starter for - @travmarshall

location— gym / boxing ring

The low rumble of Nyx’s engine echoed off the concrete walls as Elena rolled to a stop outside the gym, the bike’s purr fading as she killed the ignition. The night air was thick, heavy with the promise of rain that hadn’t come, and for a moment she stayed seated, gloved hands resting on the handlebars, watching the glow of fluorescent lights spill from the open bay doors.

She hadn’t planned on coming back. Not tonight. But after a day packed with work calls, paperwork that wouldn’t end, and juggling everything at home—still picking up the slack her siblings kept leaving—she’d needed an outlet. So here she was. And if she carried any of that weight, she wasn’t showing it. Not tonight.

Swinging her leg off the bike, Elena tugged off her helmet, letting her hair fall loose around her shoulders. This time she came ready—no stiff leather jacket, no boots too heavy for the mats. Just fitted joggers, a faded tee that clung from the humid ride over, and wraps already snug around her hands. Intentional. Comfortable.

Inside, the rhythmic thud of fists on a heavy bag filled the space, steady and familiar. She exhaled slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she stepped in, boots soft on worn mats.

Her gaze found him immediately. Focused. That same intensity she’d caught before—the one that had made her pause, made her walk out last time before she let herself get drawn in.

Not tonight.

She drifted toward the ring, arms draping casually over the ropes, watching him with that easy, steady calm she did so well. Then her voice cut through the space, light and edged with a hint of challenge.

“Tell me you’re not too tired to spar.”

[elenaduarte]

CAMILA QUEIROZ via instagram

[elenaduarte]

if you got way too drunk... who would you want to take care of you?

“Can I say nobody? I hate being taken care of when I’m drunk, hate being sick in front of people especially. But gun to my head, making me choose, I would probably say Gen, Leyla, or Livia. They’ve all had to hold my hair back at one point or another.” @genortiz @leylayilmz @liviachar

[elenaduarte]

Elena smiled softly, her eyes lighting up with that familiar warmth she reserved for small moments like this. “I get that,” she said, tilting her head thoughtfully as she watched Cass decide. “Matcha is definitely one of those things that’s either love it or leave it.” She shrugged, the edge of a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “But honestly? I think it’s kind of like people with coffee—some swear by it, some can’t stand it, and others only like it when it’s sweetened just right.”

She glanced at the muffins again, then back up. “If you want, I’ll split one with you. That way, you won’t feel like you wasted money if it’s ‘dirt’ tasting.” Her tone was light but genuine, and her eyes held that steady calm Elena was known for—always ready to share something simple, something honest. “Besides, I’d be curious to see what you think.”

Elena smiled warmly as Cassiá waved her over, the easy confidence in her friend’s gesture making her feel seen and appreciated. “You really didn’t have to do that,” she said softly, shaking her head with a small laugh. “But I won’t say no to a free muffin.”

She glanced toward the barista, then back at Cassiá with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Cass. You always know how to make my day a little better.”

Then, with a teasing sparkle in her eye, she added, “Now I just have to figure out if I want something sweet or if I’m feeling brave enough to try one of those crazy new coffee drinks.”

[elenaduarte]

TW: mention of memory loss (specifically Alzheimer’s)

Elena’s fingers tingled where Enzo’s had brushed hers—brief, but enough to remind her of all that remained unsaid. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered—not just for the papers, but for him showing up.

They fell into step side by side, the bright hospital corridor stretching ahead—a path neither imagined walking together again. For a moment, the past felt lighter, their shared concern for their mothers building a fragile bridge. Elena kept her eyes forward, wrestling with the ache of everything left behind and a cautious hope stirring inside.

The hallway opened into a quiet corner. Elena paused before pushing open the door marked 112. Inside, the sterile air mixed with the faint beeping of monitors. Elena’s breath caught as she saw her mother—smaller, fragile, hair tousled, eyes glassy with confusion, drifting without focus.

Elena stepped closer, voice steady despite the ache. “Mom.”

Her mother blinked, lips trembling. “Who… who are you?”

The words hit Elena like a cold wave.

She forced a soft smile. “It’s me, Mom. Elena.”

Her mother’s eyes searched her face, then drifted away—clouded, distant.

Elena’s chest tightened, but she held back tears, steeling herself to stay strong—for both of them.

Elena watched him gather the scattered papers, the simple, unhurried motion giving her just enough space to collect herself. She focused on the quiet shuffle of the pages, on the hum of fluorescent lights, anything but the tremble still working its way through her chest.

When he spoke about his mother—dialysis, donor, rough year—the words landed heavily in her chest. She knew that weight, the strain of long hospital days, the worry that clung like a shadow.

His hand fell away from her arm, leaving a cool emptiness that surprised her with how sharply it cut. For a second, she missed the anchor of his touch—the simple steadiness he’d always carried. She hadn’t realized she needed that.

“I didn’t know,” she said finally, voice low, an apology wrapped in quiet regret. “I’m sorry. I should have reached out.” She forced herself to look at him, meeting his gaze, trying to bridge the gap the years had left behind.

She nodded, the panic ebbing just enough for her to speak with a steadier voice. “Let’s go find her.”

They could carry the rest of this—what was old and what was new—later. Right now, her mother came first.

[elenaduarte]

Elena’s lips curved into a subtle, confident smile as she met Reina’s gaze, eyes sharp and steady like a hawk sizing up its counterpart. The challenge in Reina’s tone was clear, but Elena thrived on that kind of energy—no need to hide the thrill beneath the surface.

She extended her hand without hesitation, her grip firm but not overpowering. “Chaos-inspired front? Maybe,” she said, voice smooth, low, and deliberate. “But even chaos has a method. We’re not just throwing pieces around blindly.” Her gaze flickered with a touch of amusement, eyes narrowing just slightly as if inviting Reina to test that theory. “It’s about knowing the game well enough to bend the rules without breaking the board.”

Elena didn’t react to Reina’s jab right away — just let the silence stretch a second too long as she stared at the other woman perched on the desk, so comfortable in chaos she practically breathed it in like air.

Finally, she gave a slow blink, like she was filing the whole outburst under predictable.

“Do you think I don’t know how to be brutal?” she asked softly, almost curiously, stepping closer now. There was no heat in her tone, just something colder — something measured. “Reina, I was raised in a courtroom where men twice my age called me sweetheart while they tried to cut my legs out from under me. I learned to bleed them out with a smile.”

She stopped just short of the desk, eyes steady on Reina’s, her voice low and lethal. “So don’t mistake strategy for softness. I don’t have to scream to get what I want. I don’t have to throw punches when I can cut an artery with a sentence.”

Then — a breath. Not a retreat, but a shift. A reminder.

“You like to play God in the first round. I like to let them think they’re winning until the final bell. That’s not fear. That’s the long game. And it wins.”

She straightened just enough to square her shoulders, the air between them tight as wire. “But if you're convinced chaos makes the better case…” She let it hang there, eyes still locked with Reina’s. “Then I guess we’ll see.”

No smile this time. Just stillness, and the quiet flicker of something that looked a lot like daring.

[elenaduarte]

Elena let Vanna’s words hang in the air for a moment, as if giving them the space they deserved. She watched the subtle shifts in Vanna’s face—the polite smile that didn’t quite mask the storm beneath, the way her gaze dropped, the small sigh like she was trying to exhale the weight of it all. And God, how familiar that looked. How familiar it felt.

When Vanna tapped her shin, Elena’s lips tugged into a small, knowing smile. The kind that didn’t judge, just… saw her.

“I’ve been…” She paused, considering. No use pretending. Not with Vanna. “I’ve been figuring it out. Some days feel like standing still. Some days feel like running uphill in the dark. Work’s been work. My mom has good days and bad ones. I’ve had to learn to stop trying to fix everything for her.” She gave a small, dry laugh. “Turns out that’s harder than it sounds.”

Her gaze softened, warm but steady. “I get through it. Same as you.”

Elena tilted her head slightly, eyes meeting Vanna’s in that searching way she had—the one that didn’t let people hide so easily. “Now your turn. No polite smiles. No dodging. What’s really going on in there?” she asked, tapping lightly at her own temple, voice low and sure. “I want honest.”

Elena barely had time to stand before Vanna was wrapping her in a hug. It caught her a little off-guard—not because she didn’t want it, but because it had been so long since Vanna had reached for her like that. Like old muscle memory, Elena folded into it, arms curling around Vanna’s shoulders, warm and sure. She didn’t say anything at first. Just closed her eyes and let it be what it was: a reunion layered with everything they hadn’t said in years.

When Vanna pulled back and spoke, Elena gave a quiet laugh, one hand brushing a red strand of hair behind her ear.

“Only you would apologize for being five minutes late like it’s a mortal sin,” she said dryly, but there was a fondness there—real and rooted, not performative. Her gaze softened. “It’s good to see you too, V.”

She sat back down as Vanna eased into the seat across from her, and for a moment, she just looked at her. The years had refined Vanna in that subtle way time does—sharpened some edges, softened others. But the bones of her were still there. That quiet intensity. That restlessness beneath the surface.

When Vanna mentioned her visit—her mom—the tension that had coiled up in Elena’s spine from habit started to dissolve. She leaned her elbow on the table, chin resting in her palm.

“She probably didn’t like the flowers,” Elena admitted with a crooked smile. “But I promise you she put them in water and kept them where everyone could see. That’s how she is. She likes having you in the room, even when you’re not.”

There was a pause, and then Elena’s voice dropped a little, gentler.

“My mom misses yours. A lot. But I think she misses you more.”

She didn’t say it to guilt her. She said it like truth—simple and unadorned. Then she tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly in that quietly observant way she had.

“And for the record, my mom adores your mom. No overwhelming. Just… stubborn women doing things their own damn way.”

A beat. Then her expression shifted—something unreadable flickering behind her eyes.

“Feels like everything’s changed, but being across from you again… doesn’t.”

[elenaduarte]

seb or mateo?

“…Seb’s the hometown easy button—familiar, safe, and pretty damn good when I want zero drama. Mateo? He’s the wildcard who keeps things interesting—and honestly, sometimes that chaos is exactly what I need to feel alive. Picking between them? That’s like asking if I want fries or a salad. Some days, you just want the fries—and some days, you want a salad. And other days, well, you need a girl dinner of both fries and salad - maybe a Diet Coke too. If you get what I mean.”

@sebolivar @mateosal

[elenaduarte]

👐 do you think you'd ever get back together with enzo?

“…I think about it. More than I should. Seeing him again—God, it was like no time had passed and every damn second had passed all at once. I tell myself it’s just nostalgia, or stress, or—whatever. But the truth is, part of me wants to know what it’d be like if we tried again. If we could get it right this time.” @enzoadeluca

[elenaduarte]

Seb or Enzo?

“…Depends what you’re asking. Seb was who I ran to when I didn’t want to think. Enzo’s who I think about when I’m trying not to feel. So… you tell me.” @enzoadeluca @sebolivar

[elenaduarte]

👐Who's a better colleague, Alex or Reina?

“…Alex and I? We butt heads constantly. He’s stubborn, thinks he knows everything, and never backs down. Drives me up the wall—but I respect the hell out of his persistence. Reina? She’s sharp, always three steps ahead, and somehow manages to get under my skin without even trying. With her, it’s less noise, more chess. I can’t decide which is more exhausting.” @alex-caldwell @reinayourparade

[elenaduarte]

 👐+ would you like to rekindle things with enzo again?

“…Would I like to? I don’t even know if he’d want to. It’s been so long, and maybe we’ve both moved on in ways I can’t even see yet. But that doesn’t stop the part of me that wonders what it could be—if the past still has a say in the future.” @enzoadeluca

[elenaduarte]

What is the biggest thing you learned during your time in Charleston?

“…That control is an illusion. No matter how hard I planned or pushed, life has a way of throwing curveballs you can’t predict. I learned to hold tight to what matters—and let go of what I can’t change. That was hard. But necessary.”

[elenaduarte]

👐 what's your biggest regret?

“…I think the biggest mistake I’ve made is trying to do everything on my own. Thinking I had to be invincible, that asking for help was a weakness. It wasn’t. It just took me too long to realize that sometimes strength comes from letting others in.”

[elenaduarte]

If you could have a ONS with anyone, no consequences, just for pure fun, who are your top three? 😉

“…Top three? Okay, there’s Seb—easy, hometown charm, no complications. Then Enzo—complicated, messy, but impossible to forget. And Mateo… well, he’s the wildcard I didn’t expect, the one who keeps me guessing. Honorable mention? Reina. Because when two fiery personalities clash, you either burn or you spark—and with her, it’s always a spark.” @enzoadeluca @sebolivar @reinayourparade @mateosal

[elenaduarte]

If your mother disapproved of the person you wanted to be with, what would you do?

“…If Mom disapproved, it’d hit harder than it should. Especially now, with everything she’s dealing with—the illness, the fragility of it all. I know she’s trying to protect me in her own way, but sometimes it feels like I’m walking on eggshells around her. I’d listen, because her opinion matters more than anyone’s. But I’m not a kid anymore. I have to make my own choices, even if that means disagreeing with her. It’s complicated.”

[elenaduarte]

Who's a better lawyer? Reina or Alex? Or you?

“…Better lawyer? That’s a loaded question. Reina’s got the strategy and sharp instincts—she always thinks five steps ahead. Alex is relentless, no-nonsense, and knows how to push every angle. Me? I’m the one who’s willing to do whatever it takes, even if it means bending the rules a little. So… depends on how you define ‘better.’” @reinayourparade @alex-caldwell