"Being bossy isn't a flaw."
"You're also stubborn," she says. "And reckless. And apparently incapable of following basic medical instructions."
"Anything else?"
"You showed up at my door bleeding to death instead of going to a hospital like a normal person."
"Hospitals ask questions."
"So do I."
"You're prettier than the nurses."
Marina freezes. Her hand hovers over the cabinet door.
"That's—" She clears her throat. "That's not a good reason to almost die on someone's doorstep."
"It's the only reason I have."
She closes the cabinet. Slowly. Deliberately.
"You're delirious," she says. "From blood loss."
"Probably."
"And the pain meds."
"Those too."
"So you don't actually mean?—"
"I mean everything I say." I hold her gaze. "Even when I shouldn't."
The silence stretches between us. Thick. Heavy.
Marina breaks first. She always does. Not because she's weak—because she's smart. She knows when to retreat.
"I'm going to take a shower." She moves toward the hallway. "Try not to die while I'm gone."
"No promises."
Marina
I close the bathroom door behind me and lean against it.
My heart pounds against my ribs. Too fast. Too loud.
I didn't need a shower. I took one an hour ago. But I needed to get away from him. From those dark eyes watching me. From the way he saidI mean everything I say.
The bathroom mirror reflects a woman I barely recognize. Flushed cheeks. Parted lips. Eyes too bright.
I point at my reflection.
"Get it together," I whisper. "Get. It. Together."
My reflection doesn't listen.
I press my palms flat against the cool porcelain of the sink. Force myself to breathe. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. The way my therapist taught me before I stopped going.
