“I know what that feels like.”
I shot up, the words piercing me like shards of glass.
“No,” I insisted. “You don’t.”
His expression remained steady, but I could sense the weight shift between us.
“You think you do,” I snapped, pacing now, the wine forgotten. “But you couldn’t possibly know. You weren’t raised to be palatable. You weren’t molded into a weapon before you even learned how to laugh without seeking permission.”
“Liz—”
“My feelings were monitored. My choices were predetermined. I was trained to wield a fork in one hand and a knife in the other while knowing how to take a life in six seconds flat. I didn’t live, Noah. I was curated. Controlled.”
He rose to his feet, his voice low and steady.
“I’m not comparing. I’m trying to understand.”
“Don’t,” I said sharply. “Don’t try to relate just to feel closer. It doesn’t work that way.”
I saw the hurt flicker in his eyes before he could mask it, and that hurt me even more.
Because the closer he drew, the more the walls I’d constructed began to tremble—and I wasn’t ready for them to crumble.
“Liz,” he said softly once more. “Why are you running from this?”
“Because if you see me,” I said, my voice trembling, “truly see me, and still choose to care—I won’t know how to handle that. Because I won’t be able to pretend anymore.”
Before he could respond, I turned and headed for the door.
The storm had grown louder, thunder rumbling in the distance, rain crashing against the trees like a round of applause.
I stepped into the downpour without a second thought, the cold biting through my shirt, soaking my hair, my skin, my breath. I didn’t run out of anger.
I ran because I was scared. Scared that this—he—could make me feel human again, and I had no idea how to navigate being human. Not when I was shaped to be anything but.
Noah
(Authors note- Audra here! For this scene, please listen to Free by RUMI (HUNTR/X), JINU (Saja Boys) trust me)
She was gone.
One second, we were on the floor, telling our stories, the fire flickering between us. The next, she was gone — running into the storm like her skin couldn’t take being close to mine for one second longer.
Her eyes, when she looked at me — wide, blue and green and terrified — those were what stuck. She wasn’t angry.
She wasafraid.
And I couldn’t let her run from that. Fromme.
The front door slammed behind me as I sprinted into the downpour. The wind ripped across the hillside, rain hitting hard and fast, turning the dirt beneath my boots into slush. I couldn’t see her at first — just shapes in the dark, the hiss of water, my pulse crashing in my ears.
Then there — ahead of me. A dark figure in the middle of the storm, walking like she didn’t care where she ended up.
“Liz!” I shouted.
She stopped.
Didn’t turn. Just stood there, soaked through, fists clenched at her sides like she was holding herself together with sheer will.
