"Well, stop listening." I sit up, pulling the blanket with me like armor. "I don't need you to—"
"To what?" He moves closer, and in the dim light from the window, I can see his expression. It isn’t cold like earlier, it’s softer. "To check that you're okay?"
"I'm not okay." The words burst out before I can stop them. "How could I possibly be okay? Everything in my life just... ended. My apartment, my job, my freedom. All of it. Gone. Because I walked through the wrong door."
He's quiet for a moment, then sits on the edge of the bed. He isn’t touching me, but is close enough that I can feel his warmth.
"I know," he says finally.
"Do you?" I swipe angrily at my tears. "Do you have any idea what this feels like? To have your entire future decided for you by someone else? To be trapped—"
"Yes."
The single word stops me cold.
He's looking at me with something so raw in his eyes that the words die on my tongue.
"You think I wanted this?" he asks quietly. "The mandate? Being forced to marry and produce an heir on someone else's timeline? I've spent eight years building my business, my reputation, my life exactly how I want it. And then one dinner, one announcement from my uncle, and suddenly none of that matters."
"That's not the same—"
"It's not," he agrees. "Your situation is worse. You didn't choose this world. I was born into it. But we're both trapped in it now."
I don't know what to say to that.
He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I don't, his hand settles on my shoulder, warm and solid through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
"I'm sorry," he says. "About all of it. About the lack of choices. About the fear. About taking your life and turning it upside down."
"Are you?" I look at him through tear-blurred eyes. "Sorry enough to let me go?"
His jaw tightens. "No."
At least he's honest.
"But I am sorry it had to happen this way," he continues. "If there was another option to keep you safe—"
"There isn't." I laugh, but it's brittle. "We both know there isn't. Valentin would kill me. And even if he didn't, I saw too much. I know too much. So my choices are to die or... this."
"Yes."
The word hangs between us, brutal and true.
Fresh tears spill over, and I hate myself for being this weak in front of him. For letting him see how completely shattered I am.
His hand moves from my shoulder to my back, slow circles that somehow ground me.
"I don't know how to do this," I whisper. "I don't know how to be what you need me to be. I was on a first date tonight for the first time in over a year…" I laugh, but it isn’t humor. “I have no idea how to even be a good girlfriend, never mind a wife and mother.”
"Then don't be any of those things." His voice is quiet but steady. "Not tonight. Tonight, just... exist. Tomorrow we'll figure out the rest."
Something about the way he says it, so matter-of-fact and certain, makes it easier to breathe.
I lean into him without meaning to. Just slightly, just enough that my shoulder presses against his chest.
He doesn't push. Doesn't take advantage. Just shifts to accommodate me, his arm coming around to hold me more securely.
And then I'm crying in earnest, face pressed against his shoulder, his hand moving in steady circles against my spine while I fall apart.
