Chapter 2I had given up

That night, I was running a bath when Julian came home. I was undressing, my hand tracing the angry red line on my chest, when he wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips on the back of my neck.

"Darling," he murmured. "Still not in the shower? Were you waiting for me to wash you?" He gently turned me to face him, his fingers already working at the buttons of my shirt. "Your stitches… you shouldn't get them wet. Let me help."

His hands stopped when he saw it. The ugly, puckered scar on my chest.

I shoved him away. "Don't touch me!"

He looked surprised, then chuckled, thinking I was misinterpreting his intentions. "You have a dirty mind, you know that?" he teased. "I'm not a complete animal. I'll wait until you're healed. Then I'll collect my payment, with interest."

"I don't want you to wash me," I said, my voice flat.

He raised an eyebrow. "Still mad at me? Fine. Take it out on me. But don't blame Ivy. She's just a kid, Nora. Don't hold it against her. She's so sick. She's miserable."

I couldn't help but laugh, a bitter, broken sound. "In case you've forgotten, Julian, your 'kid' is the exact same age as me. She's miserable? What about me? Did it ever occur to you that when I fell down those stairs, I could have died?"

He frowned. "Don't be dramatic, darling. You're fine. And your wound… I stitched it up myself, didn't I?" He smiled, a flash of his old, confident charm. "You're healthy. You're not going to die. You just overthink things. Trust my work. I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

I looked down at the jagged, uneven line of stitches and fought back tears. "You made me ugly, Julian. You know how much I hate being ugly."

He sighed, a long, weary sound. "Ivy called me right before your surgery. She was hysterical, threatening to kill herself. I had to go to her. You know that, right? I don't regret it. If I had been one minute later, she would be dead." He cupped my face in his hands. "And you… you need to stay away from her. Don't provoke her. She's already been through so much. She has a temper. She could hurt you again, and that would break my heart." He stroked my cheek. "She's not like you, Nora. She's dying. She's pitiful. Just… let her have this, okay? If you need to be angry, be angry with me. Tonight, in bed, you can punish me however you want."

He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head away. The way he was with her… it was different. And in that moment, I had nothing left to say.