“I don’t belong to either of you,” I say, louder now, my voice cracking against the tile.
The silence that follows is heavy. Judgmental.
My phone vibrates once more.
Pack light, Scarlett.
My heart stutters.
The island isn’t where this ends.
I drop the phone like it burned me.
It skids across the tile and comes to rest against the wall, screen still glowing, patient as a loaded gun.
I wrap my arms around myself, rocking slightly, the house too big, the future too close, my name caught between two men who both think they’re entitled to decide what happens next.
And somewhere deep, ugly, and traitorous—a part of me knows this was inevitable because cages don’t just appear.
They’re built slowly and I’ve been standing inside one for a long time already.
The phone keeps glowing on the floor.
I don’t touch it.
I can’t.
It feels like if I pick it up, something will lock—like a door slamming shut somewhere I won’t be able to reach again.
So I sit there instead, arms wrapped around myself, rocking just enough to keep my body from shattering apart completely.
My pulse won’t slow.
It’s too loud. Too fast. Like it’s trying to run without me.
The house exhales around me—expensive wood, stone, glass, all of it holding its breath the way Noah does right before he decides something for me. The smell of burnt oil still hangs in the air, acrid and sharp, curling into my lungs until my throat tightens.
I forgot the stove.
Of course I did.
I drag myself up, legs trembling, and run to the kitchen and turn it off with clumsy fingers. The pan is blackened beyond saving. Ruined. I stare at it longer than I should.
Another thing I destroyed by standing too close.
I lean forward, palms flat on the counter, and suddenly my vision tunnels. The edges of the kitchen blur, the centre pulsing like it’s about to cave in on itself.
Breathe.
I try.
My breath comes out wrong—too shallow, too sharp. I feel that awful, floating sensation start to creep in, the one where my body feels miles away from my head, like I’m watching myself from behind glass.
No.
Not now.
I dig my nails into my palm until pain sparks bright and real. It grounds me just enough to stay upright.
