Chapter 8
The decision crystallized the next morning. Sunlight filtered through the blinds in uneven stripes across my bedroom floor as I dressed for campus.
Mom had already left for work, her note on the counter wishing me a good day.
Marcus was still at the apartment, reviewing more planning documents at the dining table when I emerged. The space felt intimate in the quiet daylight, the faint scent of coffee lingering.
I stopped in the doorway, backpack slung over one shoulder. “We need to talk about boundaries,” I said, voice low but firm.
My heart beat steadily, guarded but determined. “Avoid unnecessary conversations. Keep things respectful and surface-level. This is complicated enough without extra layers.”
Marcus set his pen aside, turning to face me fully. His expression r
