Cassian said her name again.
"Juliette."
The way he said it this time was different. Softer. Like he wasn't sure she would still answer if he raised his voice.
She didn't look at him.
The morning light spilled quietly across the sitting room, touching the edges of furniture, warming the air but none of it reached her chest. She sat very still on the couch, hands clasped tightly together, shoulders slightly hunched as if holding herself upright took effort she didn't have much of.
She was sick.
Still weak.
Still recovering.
And now he wanted to talk.
Cassian took another step closer.
"We said we would talk today," he said carefully. "And I don't want you carrying things alone anymore."
Something in her chest trembled.
She swallowed, nodded once, but still didn't look at him.
"I don't want misunderstandings between us," he continued. "I don't want you guessing what I mean, or why I do things."
Juliette let out a small breath that sounded too close to a laugh and too close to a sob.
"I've been guessing since the day we got married," she said quietly.
That made him pause.
She lifted her head slowly then, finally looking at him, and Cassian felt it how tired her eyes looked. Not just physically. Emotionally. Like someone who had been holding herself together for far too long.
"I learned very early," she went on, voice steady but thin, "that asking questions didn't change anything."
Cassian frowned slightly. "Juliette"
"I'm not blaming you," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I just… I want you to understand."
Her fingers tightened together, knuckles whitening.
"When we got married, I thought if I stayed quiet… if I behaved properly… if I didn't ask for too much, you would eventually see me."
Her voice wavered.
"So I tried to be easy," she whispered. "I tried not to take up space in your life."
Cassian felt something heavy settle in his chest.
She continued, words spilling now, like a door finally opened.
"I told myself it was normal that we didn't talk. That you were busy. Important. That love wasn't something everyone got." She let out a shaky breath. "I told myself I could survive on politeness."
Her eyes glistened.
"But some nights," she admitted, voice breaking slightly, "I would lie awake and wonder if I would disappear one day and you wouldn't even notice."
That did it.
Her voice cracked fully this time.
"And then I saw you at the boutique."
Tears welled up fast now, blurring her vision.
"I wasn't looking for you," she said hurriedly, like she needed him to believe that. "I just walked in. I swear I wasn't spying. I wasn't suspicious."
Her breath hitched.
"At first, I wasn't even jealous," she said. "I was just confused."
Tears spilled over then, sliding down her cheeks.
"Because you looked… comfortable," she whispered. "Like you belonged there. Like you were in a world where I didn't exist."
Her hands trembled as she lifted them to her face, but the tears kept coming.
"I didn't feel betrayed," she cried softly. "I felt… unnecessary."
Her shoulders shook.
And suddenly, the strength she had held onto since the beginning slipped completely.
"I kept asking myself what I did wrong," she sobbed. "Why you never looked at me like that. Why I always felt like I was borrowing space in your life."
Her breathing grew uneven, shallow.
Cassian moved instantly.
He was beside her in seconds, dropping to his knees in front of the couch, panic flashing across his face.
"Juliette His voice broke. "You're crying. You shouldn't you're still sick"
He reached for her, hesitated for half a second, then pulled her gently into his arms.
Careful. Protective. Immediate.
She gasped softly as he hugged her, like she hadn't expected it. Like her body didn't know what to do with comfort anymore.
Cassian held her firmly, one arm around her shoulders, the other hand coming up to cradle the back of her head.
"Hey… hey," he murmured urgently. "Please don't cry like this."
Her tears soaked into his chest.
"I don't ever want you to cry like this," he said, voice rough. "Not because of me."
She clutched his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric like she needed something solid to stay upright.
"I was tired," she cried. "So tired of pretending I didn't care."
Cassian's heart pounded violently.
Seeing her like this small, shaking, sick, crying because of him something inside him snapped fully into clarity.
This wasn't inconvenience.
This wasn't misunderstanding.
This was pain he had caused by absence.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her face, his hands immediately coming up to wipe her tears gently with his thumbs.
"Look at me," he whispered.
She did, reluctantly.
Her eyes were red. Wet. Beautiful in a way that hurt him.
"I should have seen this," he said hoarsely. "I should have asked. I should have been there."
She shook her head weakly. "You never came."
The words gutted him.
"I didn't marry you to ignore you," he said urgently. "I didn't marry you to make you feel invisible."
She let out a shaky laugh through tears. "But that's how it felt."
He nodded slowly. "I know."
He leaned his forehead gently against hers.
"The woman at the boutique," he said quietly. "She's a business partner. Nothing more. There was never anything romantic. Ever."
Her sobbing eased slightly.
"I should have told you immediately," he added. "Not explaining doesn't make me innocent. It makes me careless."
She sniffed softly, her grip loosening.
"I didn't imagine the distance," she whispered. "Even if I imagined the reason."
"I treated this marriage like an arrangement," he continued. "Like something that required logistics, not presence." His jaw tightened slightly. "I assumed that if I didn't ask for much… I wouldn't have to give much."
The words hung between them.
They were honest.
And they were uncomfortable.
Juliette absorbed them quietly. No sharp inhale. No flinch. Just a slow settling, like something she had already known finding its place.
"I didn't marry you for love," he said carefully. "But I didn't marry you to punish you either."
Her chest tightened anyway.
He went on, choosing each word with restraint. "Your father's debt… the timing… it all made sense on paper. I thought distance would keep things clean. Simple. I didn't think" He paused, then corrected himself. "I didn't consider what that distance would feel like to you."
Cassian shifted slightly, as though the stillness between them had grown heavier.
"The accident," he said, more slowly now. "That changed something."
Her gaze flickered.
"The thought of losing you," he continued, his voice lower, less controlled, "unsettled me more than I expected. I don't know what this is yet." He held her eyes now. "But I know I don't want to keep living beside you like you're temporary."
Silence followed.
Not empty silence.
Charged silence.
Juliette exhaled slowly, as though she had been holding her breath without realizing it.
"I don't want to be chosen because you're afraid of losing me," she said. Her voice was steady, but the honesty in it cut deep. "I don't want pity. Or obligation."
He nodded.
"Then let me choose honesty first," he replied.
Cassian held her again, tighter this time.
"I don't want us to live like strangers anymore," he said firmly. "I don't want silence. I don't want you swallowing your pain alone."
She rested her forehead against his chest, exhausted.
"I don't want to hope and be disappointed," she murmured.
He didn't promise love.
He didn't say forever.
But his arms tightened around her.
"Then let's start with honesty," he said. "And presence."
The house was quiet again.
But this time, it wasn't empty.
This time, something real had finally