"Continue then," Roman said softly.
Julie, finally given permission, lowered her gaze, lips trembling, then opened her mouth. Her voice came out like a broken whisper, raw with emotion.
"It started when I was very young… I never knew why, but there was always this coldness in the way they looked at me, Roman. No warmth, no love. Just… judgment."
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision as she recounted everything—every sharp word, every silent meal, every moment she was made to feel like an outsider in her own home.
Her voice cracked with grief, thick with sorrow and disbelief, until the dam finally burst.
The tears streamed down freely, painting her cheeks with grief as she tried to explain a childhood that was more survival than living.
Roman sat in front of her, his body eerily still, but every breath he took seemed heavier, more thunderous than the last. The tension in the air was thick, pulsing.
