"Selene…" My voice trembled. "If you're lying—if you're just saying this to—"
She tilted her head slightly, as if weighing my fear.
"Would it hurt less if I lied?"
I didn't answer.
Nope.
I couldn't.
The silence stretched, raw and unbearable.
Finally, she leaned back, the air between us snapping like a drawn thread cut loose. Her smile returned—gentler now, but no less dangerous.
"Then draw again," she said. "Don't hide. Show me what you're so afraid of."
The ledger lay on the floor, closed and mocking. My hands itched to reach for it, to tear it open, to drown its blankness with the truth I'd buried. But I stayed frozen—back pressed to the wall, chest hollow.
She rose gracefully, her shadow spilling over mine.
"I'll be waiting," she murmured, and for the first time, her voice was entirely hers.
When the door clicked shut, the silence left behind was worse than any accusation.
I pressed my forehead against my knees, fists trembling.
