* Jana *
My chest rose and fell unevenly, the weight of his demand pressing down on me. His words scraped against every fragile wall I had built over the years.
"I'm not hiding," I whispered, but even to my own ears, it sounded weak, defensive.
His eyes narrowed, sharp and relentless. "You think I can't see it? The way you flinch at my name. The way Dianne's accusations tore through you last night. You're carrying something, Jana. And I won't—" he broke off, exhaling hard, dragging a hand through his hair. "I won't stand here pretending I don't notice."
I backed away, needing distance, needing air. The kitchen suddenly felt too small, the walls closing in around me. My hand throbbed where the water had cooled the burn, but it was nothing compared to the heat flooding through my chest.
