The bathroom door creaked open, and the steam spilled out like smoke curling into the dimly lit bedroom. Nikolai stepped into the room, his hair damp and slightly mussed, droplets of water running down the side of his neck to his collarbone. A towel was slung carelessly over his shoulders, another knotted around his waist. His movements were efficient, wordless, each step measured.
He didn't look at her. Not once.
Instead, he crossed the room to the walk-in closet, pulled out a set of silk pajamas—dark navy, smooth and immaculate—and slipped into them with the kind of precision that made Rose grit her teeth. He acted as though nothing had happened, as though her question hadn't cracked the air wide open, as though the silence hadn't stretched between them like barbed wire.
Rose lay stiff on the bed, facing the opposite side, her arms wrapped around herself. She could feel the dip of the mattress as he climbed back in, the weight of his presence looming beside her.
Her throat tightened. For a moment, she told herself to just let it go. To sleep. To pretend. But her chest burned too much for that.
She sighed audibly, rolling onto her back before pushing herself up to sit.
"Let's talk," she said firmly.
His voice was immediate, flat, unyielding. "I am tired."
Rose's jaw clenched. She huffed out a laugh—sharp, humorless. "I didn't know you were that weak."
That got his attention. Slowly, Nikolai turned his head toward her, his blue eyes narrowing like blades of ice.
"What?"
She shrugged her shoulders as though it didn't matter, though her pulse thudded like a drum in her throat. "Don't look at me like that. I'm just trying to figure out—are you tired from just one round of fucking me, or are you tired from being my fiancé?"
Nikolai's expression darkened. "Rose—"
She cut him off, her voice sharper now. "No. Don't. Don't you dare dismiss me again."
His jaw flexed.
"I don't know what your problem is," she continued, her words trembling with equal parts frustration and hurt. "All I did was ask a question. One question. Because I want to know you. I don't want to marry a man I barely know, Nikolai. I don't want to spend the rest of my life guessing what makes you shut down, what makes you snap, what makes you walk away when I say something as harmless as your mother."
Nikolai's shoulders rose and fell with a controlled breath. He turned his body fully toward her now, his presence suddenly suffocating.
"Rose… just stop."
"No!" Her voice cracked, but she didn't back down. "Stop what? Asking? Caring? Trying to understand you? Is that what you want me to stop doing?"
He didn't answer.
She stared at him, her eyes burning, searching his face for anything—remorse, hesitation, something. But all she saw was that wall again. The same wall she had seen the very first day she had net him.
"I'm not made of glass, Nikolai," she said, softer this time but no less insistent. "I can handle the truth. I can handle whatever ugly, painful thing you're keeping locked away. But what I can't handle is this. You shutting me out like I'm nothing more than your possession. Like I don't deserve to know the man I just agreed to marry."
Nikolai's lips parted as if to speak, but then he shut his mouth again, his jaw tightening. He looked away, running a hand through his damp hair.
Her chest caved with a shaky breath. "God, you infuriate me."
Still, silence.
Rose shook her head, her hands curling into fists against the blanket. "Do you even hear yourself? Do you even realize how unfair this is? You put your mark on me." She lifted her hand, showing him the ring. "You carved my name into your chest. You tell me I belong to you. But when I ask for one piece of you in return, you act like I'm stabbing you."
His eyes snapped back to hers, sharp enough to wound. "Because you are stabbing me, Rose."
The words hit her like a slap.
He exhaled, his voice dropping lower, rougher. "You don't know what you're asking for. You think you do, but you don't. You want to peel me open like it's safe, like I'm some story you can read in bed. But some things are better left buried. My past, my mother—none of it matters now."
"It matters to me!" she shouted, her voice breaking.
The air cracked between them.
For a moment, Nikolai stared at her, his chest rising and falling, his knuckles white where his hands gripped his knees. His eyes glinted with something dangerous, something raw, but he said nothing more.
Rose's throat closed up, hot tears stinging at the back of her eyes.
"Fine," she whispered, her voice trembling. She swung her legs over the bed, standing abruptly. The blanket fell from her body as she scanned the floor. Her dress was crumpled near the dresser. She snatched it up, yanking it over her head, her movements frantic, clumsy with anger.
"What are you doing?" Nikolai's voice was low, tense.
"What does it look like?" she snapped, smoothing the fabric down her hips with shaking hands. "I'm leaving."
He stood up immediately, towering over her. "Don't be ridiculous."
Rose laughed bitterly. "Ridiculous? No, Nikolai. What's ridiculous is me thinking I could actually have a relationship with you. What's ridiculous is me thinking you'd ever let me in."
She slipped her shoes on quickly, her breath hitching as she grabbed her purse and her phone from the nightstand.
Then, with deliberate finality, she slid the engagement ring off her finger. The diamond caught the light one last time before she threw it at him. The ring struck his chest and landed on the bedspread between them.
"You can keep it," she spat. "Give it to someone else. Someone willing to put up with your stuck-up, emotionally constipated self. Because I won't."
His face hardened, his jaw a sharp line of fury. "Rose."
She didn't stop.
"If you want a puppet to kiss your boots and never ask you anything real, then go find her. But don't expect me to sit here pretending I'm happy when you won't even let me see you."
She turned for the door.
"Rose!" His voice cracked through the room like thunder. "If you leave, then don't bother coming back. Do you hear me? You won't survive out there without me."
Her steps faltered for a fraction of a second. Her chest ached with the weight of his words, with the cruel truth in them. He was probably right—maybe she wouldn't survive without him. But right now, she didn't care.
She didn't look back.
Her hand gripped the doorknob so hard her knuckles whitened, and then she pulled it open.
Her vision blurred as hot tears burned their way down her cheeks. She walked out, the sound of her heels echoing down the hall like gunshots in the silence.
Behind her, the door clicked shut.
And in that moment, Rose didn't know if she had just freed herself—or doomed herself completely.