SAPHRA'S POVThe silence stretches for long. It presses against my ears like a physical weight.Lucien sits on the edge of the bed exactly where I shoved him, shoulders rigid, hands loose on his knees. His eyes are still on me dark, wounded, and searching in a way that makes something twist painfully in my chest.I hate that look.I hate what it does to me.Because for a moment earlier, those same eyes were soft and gentle. Close enough to see every flicker of emotion inside them.Close enough to kiss.My stomach turns.No.I shove the thought away violently.I push off the wall, my boots scraping the stone floor.“Don’t look at me like that.”Lucien blinks slightly.“Like what?”“Like you’re the victim.”The words slice out sharper than I intend, but I don’t pull them back.Something inside me has snapped.The dam holding back years of rage and grief finally breaks.“You don’t get to sit there and look hurt,” I continue, my voice rising. Lucien straightens slightly.“Saphra..”“No.”
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