Her voice sharpens. "That's not an answer!"
"I'll be back."
She hurls, "You're being shady. I don't like shady."
"You love shady," I say, but my tone doesn't carry humor. I can't soften this. Not when she's unraveling right in front of me, and the root of it is a man who has lived in the shadows of her life for far too long.
Her brows pull together. "Don't go over there, Brax."
"I'm not. I'll be back later," I lie.
"This isn't your problem," she declares.
I sarcastically laugh. "That became a false statement the day you decided you wanted to marry me."
He freezes. Her lip trembles.
"What?" I question.
"There it is. I've been waiting for it to come out," she says.
The hairs on my neck rise. "For what to come out?"
She turns her head, scrunching her face.
I step closer, lowering my voice. "What's going on now?"
She tries to reel in her emotions, but she can't. She's two seconds from falling apart and blurts out, "You don't have to stay married to me anymore."
Every cell in my body goes still. I bite out, "You want to run that by me again?"
A few tense moments pass.
"I'm waiting," I state, crossing my arms.
Her voice cracks. "You're allowed to go. No one is threatening to parade me into a ceremony and turn me into some breeding machine. You're not trapped in a marriage designed to save my life. You don't have to carry me anymore."
My chest tightens with something violent. "You think I'm here because Ihaveto be?"
She doesn't look at me. "Let's not sugarcoat it. I forced you to marry me. Now you can be free."
That sentence cuts deeper than anything she could've thrown at me. She says it calmly, like she believes and accepts it, which makes my blood run hotter. I bark, "You really think that's what I want?"
"Isn't it?" she challenges.
"Is that what you want?" I retort.
Her breath shakes. "It's not about what I want."
"Last time I looked, there were two of us in this marriage," I argue.
She sputters, "You deserve someone uncomplicated."
I scoff, "Uncomplicated? I would last ten minutes with uncomplicated before I chewed my arm off."
She doesn't laugh. Doesn't smile. Her gaze stays glued to the floor like she's bracing for impact. She murmurs, "You're allowed to want a clean start."
My breath leaves in a slow, controlled exhale. I order, "Valentina. Look at me."
