CHAPTER 36 – THE NIGHT THAT WOULDN'T END.
The apartment was too quiet.
The kind of quiet that pressed against your eardrums and made every thought sound louder, sharper, harder to escape.
Liora had already tucked the twins into bed, her voice soft as she hummed to them, but I hadn't moved from where I stood in the living room. I was still holding my bag, still staring at the floor, my heart still racing like I was back in that restaurant.
That man's face wouldn't leave me.
The way his gaze pinned me to my chair.
The way the twins had stared at him, identical wide-eyed curiosity written across their features.
The way Isla had said it Daddy? like she already knew.
"Rina."
I startled when Liora's voice broke through my thoughts. She was standing there, studying me with those calm, patient eyes of hers. She didn't come closer, just watched me like she always did when she knew I wasn't ready to talk.
"Tea," she said finally, and disappeared into the kitchen.
I sank onto the couch, my body feeling like it didn't belong to me anymore.
He was real.
Not a nightmare.
Not some shadow my mind had invented to torment me for five years.
He was real.
And he had been close enough to touch.
The panic crawled up my throat, and before I knew it, I was on my feet again, pacing, gripping my own arms so tightly my nails dug crescents into my skin.
I hated him.
God, I hated him.
Hated the way his existence tore open the wound I had worked so hard to stitch shut.
Hated the way some part of me had still noticed how tall he was, how controlled, how devastatingly composed he looked like nothing in the world could touch him.
How dare he get to look so untouchable when I had been the one left bleeding?
Liora returned, two steaming mugs in her hands. She didn't speak, just placed one in front of me and sat down.
I stared at the tea but couldn't bring myself to drink. My throat felt too tight.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.
"No," I said quickly, the word sharp.
She nodded like she expected that.
We sat there in silence, the clock ticking far too loudly, until my hands stopped shaking enough for me to wrap them around the warm mug.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to go to the twins' room and shake them awake and tell them they were wrong, that that man was not their father, could never be their father but I couldn't.
Because deep down, I knew they weren't wrong.
Hours later, the apartment was dark except for the dim glow of the lamp near the couch.
I sat in the twins' room, perched on the edge of their bed, staring down at their sleeping faces.
So small. So innocent.
And so terrifyingly his.
Their lashes fluttered against their cheeks, their tiny mouths relaxed, their breaths even.
They didn't deserve this.
Didn't deserve the ghosts I carried, the past I could never quite bury.
I brushed a curl back from Isla's forehead and exhaled shakily.
"I won't let him hurt you," I whispered.
My voice cracked.
"I won't let him take anything from us."
When I finally stood, dawn was a pale gray line behind the curtains.
My decision was made or at least as much of a decision as I was capable of making.
I wouldn't run this time.
But if he came closer, if he dared to step into this fragile little world I had built…
I would fight him with everything I had left.