She looks at me like,Well?
I clear my throat. “It’s not the worst relationship ever.”
“Maybe not in the world. But it has been to you, hasn’t it?”
She studies me closely. Normally I’d deflect, lie. But like I said, I have no more flips to give.
“Yeah. Your entire relationship is why I never wanted to get married.”
“Why not?”
She’s really pushing, isn’t she? “Because I’ve watched him walk all over you, for years. Foryears, Ovie.” My voice gets louder. “And I’m expected to get married to save this family’s magic? I’m expected to give all my choice away to some man who might be as bad as Charlie? Cheat on me? Let the world see it, and I’m supposed to what? Just be a good little wife? Screw that.”
Ovie leans back like I’ve punched her. But her face doesn’t betray a single emotion. It’s like she’s simply absorbing everything I have to say.
“What else?” she whispers.
My mind races—what else? There’s so much more inside me. “And when I met Eryx, when he proposed, I thought, finally, someone’s giving me a choice. Sort of. He didn’t force me. He simply asked. And I did my part for this family, and I fell for him. Hard. And then he did the worst thing he could have?—”
“What was that?”
“He took my choice away. All at once. Just like this family has done. Just like your choice was stripped away.”
Ovie’s eyes narrow. “What makes you think my choice was taken away?”
I scoff. “Because you never left Charlie.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“You tell me.”
She exhales slowly. “My choice wasn’t taken, Chelsea. I stopped fighting for it. That’s different. Did Eryx take your choice, or did he make a terrible one because he was afraid of losing you?”
“He—” But I stop pushing back and let her words sink in—really sink in, all the way to the hollow place inside my chest, the place our magic used to live.
Ovie doesn’t rush to fill the silence. She sits in it. Watching me, waiting for me to respond.
“He was saving me,” I whisper.
The words taste different. Not sharp or defensive. Just tired.
“And were you saved?”
I swallow. “No.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “Then the question isn’t whether he was afraid, because he clearly was. The question is whether he’s strong enough to stand beside you without trying toprotect you from yourself.” She pauses, then adds quietly, “And whether you're strong enough to let him stand beside you. Even when he makes mistakes. Tell me, have you once put yourself in his shoes?”
The kitchen goes very still. A clock ticks. Outside, a bird lands on a railing and takes off just as quickly.
“What if I lose myself?”
“Don’t. Just don’t mistake someone else’s fear for your own cage.”
My fingers curl around the coffee mug. Heat seeps into my skin. So does something else, something deeper.
“I thought leaving proved I was strong,” I admit quietly.
She reaches over the counter and squeezes my hand. “Make sure whatever you choose, you’re choosing it.”
