But I can't.
I need to know what she'll tell a stranger that she'd never tell me.
"And what happens to you?"
It comes out too soft. Too invested. A guard wouldn't ask like that.
She blinks, surprised by the question. That I'd even bother asking.
I want to know everything. Every bruise. Every tear. Every nightmare he's ever given you. I want to carve them out of you and carry them myself.
"Nothing worth discussing," she murmurs finally, shaking her head. Closing the door.
I know exactly what happens to her behind closed doors. I've seen glimpses. Heard whispers. Imagined the rest until it drove me half-mad.
But I can't tell her that.
"Mrs. Calder? The doctor will see you now."
The moment shatters.
Keira rises, smoothing her hands down her coat, and walks toward the hallway without looking back.
I watch her the whole way. At the door, she pauses. One hand on the frame. Then she turns, finding me over her shoulder.
"Will you be here when I come out?" she mouths.
She knows guards don't leave. That's not what she's asking.
She's asking if Henri will stay. The man she's allowed herself to notice. The one who looks at her like she's real.
This is a door cracking open. An invitation to trust, despite everything she's learned about what trust costs.
"Yes," I mouth back. No hesitation.
I hold her gaze and let her search. Let her look for the lie, the catch, the inevitable betrayal everyone in her life has taught her to expect.
She won't find it.
I give her the only thing I can offer right now—steadiness. A promise without words.
I'm here, Red. I'm not going anywhere.
Not this time.
She turns and disappears through the door, but I just sit there like an idiot, staring at an empty hallway.
What the hell is happening to me?
I've spent my entire adult life training myself to compartmentalize. Burying every feeling deep enough that it can't compromise an operation or get in the way of my success. I'm good at it. I'm excellent at it.
Attachments are weaknesses. Caring about someone—really caring, the kind that makes you stupid and reckless and willing to throw away everything you've built—was never something I wanted.
And yet here I am.
Coming undone because a woman with a broken heart asked me if I'd wait for her.
I didn't account for any of this.
