It’srisk.
It’s Julian standing in front of me and saying,I will not bind you to me through a contract. Even if it costs me everything.
The lawyer talks about implications, about rights, about what this means legally, about what I could claim if I chose to.
My stomach turns because I don’t want to claim anything.
I want to breathe.
I want my mother to live.
I want to stop feeling like love is a trap door.
I glance at Julian, and my anger sparks up again because he is capable of this... capable of this kind of choice, and he still left me alone in the storm.
He still let me believe I was nothing.
He still let Richard touch my life.
I sign where I need to sign to acknowledge receipt.
When the lawyer leaves, the penthouse feels too quiet.
Julian doesn’t move.
He doesn’t come around the table.
He doesn’t reach for me.
He sits there like he’s waiting for a verdict.
And I hate how much power that gives me.
Because I don’t want power over him.
I want a partnership.
I want safety.
I want the version of myself who whisperedI love youand fell asleep thinking that it was all real.
I stare at the table.
At my hands.
At the spot where my ring used to sit.
I finally whisper, “I need time.”
Julian’s jaw tightens like it hurts to accept.
But he nods anyway.
“Okay.”
It’s one word.
But it isn’t resistance.
