His usual softness is gone. This voice has edges. It carries weight. It pushes into the space between Julian and me and refuses to move.
Julian’s head whips toward him.
Maeve steps closer, her grip tightening on the back of my chair. “Yeah,” she says, her voice cold, “and use that tone again, I’ll show you what this mop is really for.”
Julian glares at both of them—especially Kieran—rage simmering behind his eyes.
“Take a good look,” he says, jerking his chin at them. “This is who you’re working for. This is who’s been poisoning you against your own family. The ones putting all this garbage in your head.”
My truth is garbage to him. My survival is garbage. My voice is garbage.
He turns fully on them now. “What have you been telling her? For five years my wife was fine. She didn’t talk like this. She didn’t think like this. And now suddenly, after meeting you two, she’s confused? Saying things that aren’t true? What thefuckdid you do to her?”
I flinch.
It’s tiny. Barely a movement. Just my shoulders curling inward for a second.
Kieran’s voice is soft now. “Stop cursing.”
Julian looks like he’s about to explode. His face is red. His jaw is tight. His hands are shaking.
I breathe.
In.
Out.
Then I look at him. “Julian.” I wait for his eyes to meet mine. “That’s enough. No more talking. Now you listen.”
“Iamlistening—”
“No,” I cut him off. “You’re not. You’re just waiting for your turn to talk. You’re not listening to a single word I’m saying.”
My feet are flat on the floor. My spine is straight. My hands are folded in my lap, but they are not clenched. They are open. Relaxed. The hands of a woman who is not afraid.
“I’m not going back.”
He stares at me, stunned.
“And I don’t love you,” I say. “I never loved you.”
His mouth opens, then shuts.
“I don’t know why you thought I did,” I finish softly. “But I don’t.”
Julian stares at me like I’ve reached inside his chest and twisted something vital. All the blood leaves his face. His lips part, just barely. There’s wetness in his eyes. For one strange second I almost believe he’s heartbroken.
But there’s a difference between someone falling apart and someone trying to look like they’re falling apart.
“You’re being cruel right now,” he whispers, his voice trembling.
I frown. “How am I being cruel?”
“By saying you don’t love me! How can you say that? How can you just say something like that to hurt me?”
“I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m just telling the truth.”
“It’snotthe truth,” he snaps. “You’re saying it to punish me. To make me feel what you felt. Is this what you want? Are you happy now? Does this satisfy you?” His eyes fill with tears. Big, wounded ones he tries to blink back. “Look at what you’re doing to me, Nora. I’m crying because ofyou.”
