Kya sat at the edge of the bed, her phone resting silently on the nightstand. The urge to call Julian pressed against her chest, but memory was a cruel teacher. She remembered Sebastian’s sharp words, the way he accused her of suffocating him, of trying to control what could never be hers to hold. That sting had never fully faded, and tonight it whispered again, warning her not to repeat the past.
She drew a slow breath, steadying herself. Julian was not Sebastian. Their marriage was built on different promises—ones she had chosen with open eyes. He was a grown man, capable of deciding when to return, and she would not chase him into the night.
The dining room still smelled faintly of roasted herbs and wine. Plates sat untouched, candles burned low, their wax dripping like tears. She ros
