Elowen’s POV
He finally turned back to face me, his silver eyes shadowed, his expression a carefully constructed mask of indifference that didn’t quite reach the raw vulnerability I had glimpsed earlier. He ran a hand through his damp hair, the gesture betraying a hint of the inner turmoil he was trying to conceal.
“What do you want me to say, Elowen?” he asked, his voice strained, the words clipped and precise. “That seeing you with Alaric… that it doesn’t affect me? That it doesn’t feel like a knife twisting in my gut?” The carefully constructed mask finally cracked, revealing the raw hurt beneath.
My heart twisted at his words, a fresh wave of guilt washing over me. I hadn’t meant to cause him pain, but the complicated reality of my feelings seemed to inevitably lead to someone getting hurt.
“I didn’t… I didn’t mean for things to happen the way they did,” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.
He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Did you not? Because it certainly looked like you mea
