Evangeline’s POV:
"Too late," I whisper.
My heart twists violently in my chest, as though something inside me is tearing—splitting apart beneath the weight of what I’m doing.
My fingers tremble, betraying the war happening inside of me. Every instinct I have is at war with itself. I should be hardened by now, right? Numb. I’ve survived this long.
I’ve escaped, fought, endured, raised two children on my own. Yet standing here, facing Orion—the man who once consumed every inch of my heart and soul, the man who also broke me down to my bones—why does this still hurt so much?
Why do I still care?
Why do I hate myself for the confusion growing in his eyes? For the part of him that still doesn’t understand exactly why I said what I said?
My throat tightens. I can’t let him figure it out
