I press a shaking hand to my mouth.
“I wanted it to be you.”
My pulse stutters.
The room feels too small.
Too loud.
Too silent.
“I’ve spent four years pretending I forgot you when all I did was fucking drown in you.”
The words spill before I can stop them.
“I loved you so much it felt like dying.”
My chest caves.
I laugh—a wet, bitter sound.
“No. No, that’s a lie.”
A breath.
Broken.
“I still love you.”
Silence swallows the room whole.
I curl my knees up, robe falling open even more, but I don’t care. I’m shaking too hard to fix it. Wine-soaked truth drips off my tongue like sin.
“I never told you why I did it.”
The world edges sideways.
My vision swims.
“I lied in that courtroom because I thought it would save you.”
A tear breaks loose.
I don’t wipe it away.
“I thought if I said what they wanted, they would be kinder to you.” A bitter laugh. “I thought it would shorten your sentence.”
My voice drops to a whispered confession. “I thought I was saving your life.”
A beat.
A breath.
My throat tightens until it hurts.
“But I ruined yours instead.”
The living room shifts out of focus again—sofa flickering, lights bending, shadows stretching.
