Chapter 9: "Breaking Point"
1191 Words
POV: Maya
"I was twelve," she said. "I heard him shouting and then there was silence."
3 AM. The worst of the storm.
Maya sat with her back against the hallway wall. Her knees were pulled to her chest with her arms wrapped around her legs. She was shaking.
Not from the cold.
The water was coming.
She could feel it. Not real water—the floor was dry, the roof was leaking but the hallway was still safe. Her body didn't know the difference because her body thought she was twelve years old again, standing at the top of the basement stairs, watching the water rise.
"Maya." Julian's voice is low and steady. "Look at me."
She couldn't look at him.
She couldn't look at anything.
The panic was rising in her chest like the flood had risen in her father's basement. Fast, unstoppable and dark.
"I can't breathe," she said.
"You're breathing."
"This isn't breathing. This is—" She gasped. "This is dying."
Julian moved closer. She felt his knee press against hers. His hand found her shoulder.
"Tell me what's happening," he said.
"The water."
"What water?"
"The basement my father. I was in the kitchen , I heard him shout and I ran to the door but the water was coming up the stairs."
She was crying now. She didn't remember starting.
"I opened the door," she said. "The water was at the third step, the fourth and then the fifth. I called his name but he didn't answer."
"Maya—"
"I stood at the top of the stairs and watched the water rise and I didn't go down. Julian ,I just stood there."
Her voice broke. Her whole body broke. The sob came from somewhere deep, somewhere she had been hiding since she was twelve years old.
"I didn't go down," she whispered. "I let him die."
Julian
He didn't offer platitudes this time around.
He didn't say "it wasn't your fault" or "you were just a child" or any of the things people said when they didn't know what else to say.
He moved to her.
His arms wrapped around her. His hand pressed her head against his chest and his chin rested on top of her hair.
"I've got you," he said.
"I couldn't save him."
"I know."
"I should have—"
"You were twelve years old."
"That doesn't matter."
"It matters."
She was shaking so hard he could feel it in his own bones. Her fingers gripped his shirt like he was the only thing keeping her from drowning.
"I hear his voice sometimes," she said against his chest. "In the middle of the night. Shouting my name, I wake up and the room is dry but I can still feel the water."
"The water isn't real."
"It feels real."
"I know."
They sat like that for a long time but Maya wasn't listening to the storm anymore.
She was listening to his heartbeat which was steady and strong ,nothing like the chaos outside.
"Julian," she said.
"Mm?"
"Why are you being nice to me?"
"I'm not being nice."
"You're holding me."
"That's not nice. That's necessary."
She lifted her head. Her dark eyes found his grey ones. The candle had gone out hours ago, but there was enough light from somewhere—the moon, maybe, or the lightning—to see his face.
"Why is it necessary?" she asked.
"Because you're falling apart."
"And you're the one who catches me?"
"I'm the one who's here."
She stared at him. He stared back.
Something hit the roof and didn't fall off.
"I never told anyone about my mother," Julian said.
Maya's breath caught. "What?"
"My mother. Vivienne. I told you she died by suicide. I didn't tell you the rest."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to."
He shifted. His arms tightened around her. She felt him take a breath.
"She was sad for years," he said. "Not the kind of sadness that goes away but the kind of sadness that lives in your bones. My father didn't believe in sadness. He believed in control."
"How do you control sadness?"
"You don't but hide and pretend it doesn't exist. You tell everyone your wife had a cardiac event and you never speak her name again."
Maya's hand found his. Her fingers threaded through his.
"When did you find out?" she asked.
"The truth? Alex told me. Two years ago. I was thirty-four years old and I found out my mother killed herself because my brother finally couldn't keep the secret anymore."
"That's—"
"That's my family."
He looked down at their hands. His thumb traced her knuckles.
"I've never said this aloud," he said. "To anyone, not even Alex , my therapist or myself."
"Why are you saying it to me?"
"Because you're the only person I've ever met who might understand."
Something changed in the room, not the storm.But the air between them was different.
Lighter and warmer like they had both been carrying something heavy and had finally put it down.
"Your father," Maya said. "The watch and the control is that why you're like this?"
"Like what?"
"Closed off ,Careful like you're afraid that if you feel anything, you'll drown."
Julian was quiet for a moment."Yes."
"And the clause? The document you made me sign?"
"What about it?"
"Was that control or fear?"
He looked at her. His grey eyes were bright and his jaw was tight.
"Both," he said. "I was afraid of losing you so I controlled you instead."
Maya's heart pounded. "You admit it."
"I've always known what I did. I just never said it out loud."
"Why now?"
"Because the storm is trying to kill us, you just told me about your father and I'm tired of being someone I don't want to be."
Maya leaned her head against his chest again. His arms wrapped around her again.
They didn't speak for a long time.
The storm raged ,The water dripped while the hours passed.
At some point, Maya stopped shaking, her breathing slowed and she fell asleep.
Julian woke first.
The storm had passed,The wind was quiet and The villa had stopped groaning.
Maya was still asleep against his chest. Her dark hair was tangled but her face was peaceful with her hand still tucked in his.
He didn't move.
He watched her breathe as her chest rise and fall. He watched the way her lips parted slightly, the way her lashes rested against her cheeks.
He had never watched anyone sleep before.
He had never wanted to.
He gathered her in his arms. She was lighter than he expected. Her head lolled against his shoulder ,She didn't wake up.
He carried her to the bed.
The master bedroom. The one with the view of the ocean and the one had never slept in because it felt too big, empty, much like something that belonged to two people.
He laid her down on the sheets and pulled the blanket over her.
Then he sat on the edge of the bed.
He did not leave.
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END OF CHAPTER 9
- Writer
