Alex’s POV
Her voice trembles with fury, but her words are carefully sharpened like blades, each accusation meant to cut deep, to wound me in ways I cannot ignore. She speaks of poverty, of hunger, of a life spent in shadows where I offered her nothing but bare survival, and for a moment, if I did not know her better, I might almost believe she has convinced herself of the story she is spinning. But I do know her, too well. I see the heat in her eyes, the restless shifting of her hands, the flush in her cheeks that has little to do with shame and everything to do with defiance. I cannot help the bitter laugh that rises in my chest, spilling into the heavy silence between us like smoke curling into the air.
“You say these things, Elsa, as though your life at my side was misery,” I begin,
