VII. Serena's Confession
For a long time, neither of them moved. The sound of the rain softened against the glass — no longer thunder, but a quiet grieving.
She drew in a shaky breath, her hands trembling at her sides. When she spoke, her voice was not angry, not even resolute. It was the sound of someone finally laying a ghost to rest.
"I didn't want to hurt you," she said. "I wanted to comfort you — to stay. I did. And it hurt every single time, because I kept giving myself reasons."
"Reasons?" he managed, the word barely a whisper.
"When you denied that you loved me, I told myself you were lying — that I could see through it. But I accepted your denial because it gave me an excuse to leave. To go back to Charlton. To pretend it was choice and not survival."
He blinked, wounded, the air between them trembling with something close to despair.
