The room feels hollow when he finishes.
Callum lowers the letter.
Isla turns slowly.
Her expression isn’t grief.
It’s fury.
“So he knew,” she says flatly.“He knew, and he still didn’t come.”
Callum takes a breath.“Isla?—”
“He knew she was threatening him,” she continues, voice rising.“He knew she was controlling everything, and he stayed away anyway.”
“He was terrified,” Callum says, unable to stop himself.“Of hurting you.Of ruining you.”
“And instead he abandoned me,” Isla snaps.
“He didn’t abandon you,” Callum says.
Her eyes flash.“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”
“Because it’s true,” he replies, immediately wishing he’d chosen different words.
She steps closer, anger radiating.“It’s convenient.It makes his silence noble.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“It’s exactly what you mean,” she says.“You’re defending him.”
Callum holds her gaze.“Yes.”
All the hurt and anger she’d held onto since she was a child seems to bubble to the surface.
“He should have come,” Isla says.“He should have chosen me.”
Callum’s voice is low.“He thought choosing you meant staying away.”
“That was wrong,” she fires back.
“Yes,” Callum agrees.“It was.”
“Then why are you defending him?”
“Because I knew him,” Callum says.“And I know what fear does to men who already believe they’re dangerous.”
Her voice cracks.“And what about what it did to me?”
The question guts him.
She turns away, pacing the room, hands fisted.
“He watched my life from afar,” she says.“He read about me instead of showing up.He loved me like a stranger.”
Callum watches her, heart pounding.“He loved you the only way he thought he was allowed.”
“That’s not enough,” Isla says.“It was never enough.”
